Bloom
the weekend
January
There was no door separating the conservatory from the sitting room, but the moment I stepped beneath the glass ceiling I felt a lot warmer. Dad was sitting on a loveseat, red pen stuck between his teeth as he read over an assignment. There were two stacks on the table next to him, one pile marked up by his pen. Dad looked up, setting the clipboard on his knee, and fixed me with those hazel eyes.
“Imogen,” he greeted.
“Can I, uh, sit?”
“By all means,” Dad said, gesturing to the armchair on his right. I sat down, glancing through the glass at the front garden and hedge beyond, over top of which I could see Harry’s Range Rover. “Did you get settled all right?”
It felt too formal. Which was fair enough, really, considering we hardly knew each other at all. But sitting here, looking at this person who was supposed to be my father, and not knowing what to say next just to continue the conversation made me feel even more uncomfortable than I already was.
“What are you marking?” I asked, figuring that if anything, we’d be able to talk about science.
“Lab reports,” said Dad, handing the paper on his lap over.
The formulas were vaguely familiar, but I knew immediately that they were ones I’d only seen before, and never actually learned. When I saw the course code at the top, it made a lot more sense that I had no idea what I was looking at, because they were for a third year course.
“I haven’t done any of this yet.”
“It’s Aerodynamics,” he explained. “But you’re reading Astrophysics, yes? They’re quite different.”
I knew that he taught in the School of Mechanical, Aerospace, and Civil Engineering at Manchester University, and had simply assumed that he was in the Aerospace part of that, but since I knew nothing about Aerospace Engineering (except that it had something to do with space flight) I already had a dozen questions ready in my head. This was my in, how I’d get to know this person who had the same eyes as me.
“Do either of you want a cup of tea?” asked Sarah, standing where the hardwood floor ended and the tiles on the floor of the conservatory started. “I’ve just put the kettle on.”
“Definitely,” said Dad. “Imogen?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll tell Harry to take out two more cups then,” she said, turning on her heel.
“Wait, what? Harry?”
Sarah smiled pleasantly. “Such a sweetheart, he is. Came right down and asked if I needed help with dinner. I put him to work chopping veg.”
Once she was gone, Dad looked back to me. “What were you going to say just then?”
“I was gonna ask what sort of stuff you’ve done in your field. R&D, contracting — whatever it is Aerospace Engineers do.”
“I worked on several projects before I got into teaching, I even led a few, but I’ve not done very much outside the university and its facilities since,” Dad said, setting down the clipboard on one of the stacks of paper. He folded his hands in his lap, fixing me with a curious stare. “Have you got a plan for after you graduate?”
“Well, it’s still a few years off, but I’ll probably do more school. If I get a job offer, I’ll go for it of course, but who knows.”
It felt less like I was talking to my dad, and more like I was being interviewed by an academic advisor. The whole room was stiff and uncomfortable, but I was determined to push through and not follow my instincts (running away very quickly). All of my momentum of earlier had been brought to a screeching halt with Sarah coming in, leaving me with a bunch of questions that didn’t really seem relevant anymore and no idea of what to say next.
Dad was looking at me with this expression, somewhere between amused and…proud? that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, so I looked back outside and watched the wind rustle the branches of the trees that lined the street.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes?” My head whipped back toward him, relief flooding through my system. If he’d waited for me to say something, we would’ve been sitting her a while.
“Why Astrophysics?”
There were not many people I was comfortable talking to about Astrophysics, aside from professors and other students in my program. My mom was one (though I think most of my rants about theories and formulas went over her head when we talked on the phone), then Matt, and sometimes Jillian, but usually when I so much as mentioned the word she’d call me Queen of the Nerds and I’d drop it immediately. I liked to think that someday I’d tell Harry about stars and planets and the universe and why I found it all so fascinating, because in the back of my mind, I knew he’d actually sit there and listen, but after hearing him say all the things he’d already figured out about me just by paying attention I felt like I needed to keep something for myself. It was my saving grace before, and giving it up to somebody who was so close to having everything wasn’t something I’d let happen this easily.
But I was looking at my dad and seeing the pure curiosity on his face, realizing that if there was anybody I could tell, it was him. It had everything to do with him, after all.
“When I was a kid, I’d see you every few years for a weekend or even just a day. I didn’t know you, you were just this guy who’d come around and say you were my dad. But back then, I was desperate for some sort of connection. Something substantial that I could hold on to when you went back to your regular life again. When you took me to Coney Island and you talked about how all the rides worked, stuff about momentum and gravity, you made me curious about something I’d never really thought of before. Mom always wanted me to be more like her, she signed me up for art classes and pottery and all this stuff but I never got it.
“After you’d left, I asked Mom what it was you did. She said you were an Aerospace engineer. Now, I was ten, so I had no idea what that was. All I heard was ‘space.’ In New York there’s so much light pollution that you can’t really see anything, but I stared at those faint glimmers in the sky and I thought: this is it. I made Mom take me to the library the next day and checked out a bunch of books on space. The second I started reading I knew that it was for me. I’d always been better at math than drawing, so I figured that had to be why. Of course, I found out what Aerospace Engineering actually was a few years later, but I was too far gone by then.”
There was a creak to my right, and I turned to see Harry standing there, a cup of tea in each hand. I could tell immediately that he’d heard some, if not all, of what I’d said, and I kept my eyes away from his when he stepped further in to hand Dad his cup. So much for secrets.
“Hey,” Harry said in a quiet voice, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He was leaning down, the cup between his large hands, rings clinking against it whenever he moved. “I had to guess whether or not you take milk.”
The liquid in the cup was amber and clear. I grasped the handle, avoiding Harry’s hands as best I could, and finally met his gaze. “You guessed correct.”
A smile quirked at the edges of his mouth, but Harry didn’t say anything before he headed back to the kitchen.
That same look was back on Dad’s face. “I never thought…” he began, shifting the cup in his hands. “It always seemed obvious that you would turn out like your mother. I guess I just assumed you would. In the few times we have spoken over the years, you never told me about what sort of things you were interested in, so I had nothing to go on. But then when Marianne called me and said you were planning on going into sciences when you graduated, and that you wanted to study space, I was utterly shocked. I wanted to reach out to you then, but it did seem a bit presumptuous that you would actually want to talk to me, considering our lack of a relationship. I want you to know that I do regret not making more of an effort with you, Imogen, because I would have loved to talk to you about planets and space travel when you were young.”
“It’s my fault too,” I said, before he could get another word in. “I’d finally found something we could connect with but I never actually tried to talk to you about it. The next time I heard from you was Christmas, and I don’t know, I guess it just seemed like you didn’t really care when I needed you to.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
When our eyes met, something was different. There was an understanding between us now that would never have worked before. We were both in the right state of mind for it to be happening, for him to be my dad and not just some guy who sent postcards twice a year.
The next morning, I was woken by the sound of Harry puttering about the room. He’d slept on the too-short air mattress with no complaints, but I could see by the way he held himself that it hadn’t been a particularly comfortable night. By comparison, I’d slept wonderfully. I sat up and stretched, letting out a wide yawn.
“Morning,” Harry said in a groggy voice, putting on his belt. When I came upstairs last night, he was already getting into bed wearing nothing but a pair of tiny black boxer briefs. It took all of my self-control not to stare at the v-lines that disappeared beneath the waistband. While I normally slept sans-pants, I decided not to follow Harry’s example, and wore a pair of cotton shorts and the rowing sweatshirt.
“Mmm,” was all I could manage, sliding out of bed and going straight for my duffle. I pulled out a striped shirt and a pair of jeans, tucking fresh underwear and a bra underneath my arm, and headed to the bathroom.
He’d already gone downstairs by the time I returned, tangled hair twisted into a bun and sleep washed from my face, and I quickly followed suit. The smell of bacon hit my senses like a wave, and I went straight to the kitchen. Sarah was the only one in there, though, and she was quick to offer me a cup of coffee.
“They’re in the conservatory,” she said, once I’d taken the mug from her hands.
“Thanks,” I said. “Did you need a hand with anything?”
Sarah smiled. “I’ll be just fine, thanks, love.”
Mae and Dad were on the love seat and Harry occupied the chair I’d sat in yesterday, leaving the chair on the other side of the couch for me. I pulled it closer to Mae, who had a book in her lap and was paying attention to nothing else. I didn’t listen to whatever Harry and Dad were talking about, curious to see what the young girl was reading.
The book was one of those children’s encyclopaedia things, and she was reading an article on stegosauruses. “I don’t know anything about dinosaurs,” I said, sitting back in my chair.
Mae glanced up at me. “I don’t either, really, I just like to read about things.”
“This one’s never without a book,” Dad said, reaching over to pat his daughter’s head.
“Daaad,” she whined, attempting to smooth the mess he’d made of her hair. He just smiled at her, and they shared this look that made my insides twist. It woke up this ache that I hadn’t felt since I was a little kid when I saw other children and their fathers, knowing I’d never have that.
A pair of eyes had been on me since I came into the room, and they burned holes in the side of my head now. I met Harry’s gaze, his eyebrows knit together and his lips curved into a frown, concern swimming in the depths of his avocado eyes.
“Breakfast!” Sarah called from the kitchen.
I let Mae and Dad go through first, feeling that Harry wanted to say something to me without anyone else around. First he reached out, hand hovering halfway between us, but then he seemed to rethink the movement and let his hand fall back to his side.
“All right?” he asked quietly.
Instead of answering, I gave him a thumbs up. I was just waiting for the moment he would bring up what he’d overheard me telling Dad yesterday. The thing I’d avoided since we met, that I was keeping to myself above everything else, that I would’ve told him in my own time had he not stepped into the room and precisely the wrong moment. Harry knew that, and I figured he was biding his time, trying to figure when and what he would say.
We were sat around the table, enjoying the variety of breakfast food Sarah had prepared. Harry happily ate his cereal next to me, opening his mouth as wide as it could possibly go despite the spoon not being all that big. Like with everything else he did, it was completely distracting, and I found myself staring in fascination at the way he ate instead of listening to Sarah tell us about the plan for the day.
“Honestly, it’s like I’m something in a petri dish, the way you look at me sometimes,” Harry said suddenly, tilting his head toward me and raising his eyebrows.
“Wrong discipline,” I replied immediately. That only made him grin.
Sarah, who’d stopped talking when Harry spoke up, looked between us with her lips pursed, fighting off a smile. I was doing the same, not wanting to let Harry’s contagious grin infect me.
“Right,” she continued. “As I was saying, we realize that just walking around isn’t something you can do, Harry, which—“
“You don’t need to change your plans because of me,” he interrupted, serious mode switched on. “Have a family day, yeah? I can go see some friends of mine. But I would like to take you all for dinner, if that’s all right.”
It was decided, after a lot of (polite) demanding on Harry’s part, that we would go to a quiet restaurant just south of the neighbourhood for dinner. He only had to send a few texts before his day was booked up, and was going to leave as soon as he finished eating.
Everyone helped clear the table, then Harry ran upstairs to get his beanie and coat, having left his boots by the door. I waited in the foyer with my arms folded across my chest, half-listening to Dad and Sarah talking in the other room about whether or not some museum they liked would be open. A few seconds later Harry was back, shrugging on his coat, pink beanie covering up his curls.
“See you later,” he said, once his boots were on. “Try to enjoy today, yeah?”
I nodded, tucking my chin to my chest. “Text me if things get boring.”
“I’ll text you even if they don’t.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone in the house with three people I still wasn’t used to calling family, and I realized why Jillian had suggested that somebody else come along this weekend. Harry was like a buffer, even when he wasn’t in the same room, because there was somebody else there to keep things normal, to stop me from freaking out. But now he wasn’t, and I could still hear Sarah and Dad talking, and I felt at a loss for what to do.
“Imogen?”
I spun around, seeing Mae standing a few feet away, encyclopaedia tucked under one arm. “Hey,” I smiled.
“D’you wanna see my room? I’ve got lots more books up there. And I still need help with my maths, if you wanna look at it.”
Mae and I hung out in her room until Sarah came to tell us it was time to go. Since I didn’t pay attention during breakfast, Sarah reiterated the day’s plan as we left the house. We would drive into the city, do a bit of wandering around, then Dad wanted to show me the university. It seemed like a fairly easy, low stress day, and I kept repeating Harry’s words to enjoy myself in my head.
The university was by far the most interesting part of the day. Dad could get in almost anywhere, and showed me his office, the lecture halls, and some of the research labs. Since it was the weekend, there weren’t any classes, but a few of Dad’s colleagues were at work in the labs, and were happy to explain to us what they were working on. As the day went on, I started to hold my head a little higher, the heaviness in my chest and the twisting in my stomach slowly disappearing. I still looked away whenever Dad and Mae had one of their moments, because it was too late for me, but it hurt less and less with every hour.
Why didn’t I decide to be an engineer
stars are great, but this stuff is really fucking awesome
What stuff? Where are you?
In a lab at MU
there’s all these diagrams and stuff of how they build planes
THIS IS SO COOL
So it’s going well? You haven’t texted me all day
It was weird at first
like I didn’t know what to say and stuff
but it’s ok now
:)
There was no door separating the conservatory from the sitting room, but the moment I stepped beneath the glass ceiling I felt a lot warmer. Dad was sitting on a loveseat, red pen stuck between his teeth as he read over an assignment. There were two stacks on the table next to him, one pile marked up by his pen. Dad looked up, setting the clipboard on his knee, and fixed me with those hazel eyes.
“Imogen,” he greeted.
“Can I, uh, sit?”
“By all means,” Dad said, gesturing to the armchair on his right. I sat down, glancing through the glass at the front garden and hedge beyond, over top of which I could see Harry’s Range Rover. “Did you get settled all right?”
It felt too formal. Which was fair enough, really, considering we hardly knew each other at all. But sitting here, looking at this person who was supposed to be my father, and not knowing what to say next just to continue the conversation made me feel even more uncomfortable than I already was.
“What are you marking?” I asked, figuring that if anything, we’d be able to talk about science.
“Lab reports,” said Dad, handing the paper on his lap over.
The formulas were vaguely familiar, but I knew immediately that they were ones I’d only seen before, and never actually learned. When I saw the course code at the top, it made a lot more sense that I had no idea what I was looking at, because they were for a third year course.
“I haven’t done any of this yet.”
“It’s Aerodynamics,” he explained. “But you’re reading Astrophysics, yes? They’re quite different.”
I knew that he taught in the School of Mechanical, Aerospace, and Civil Engineering at Manchester University, and had simply assumed that he was in the Aerospace part of that, but since I knew nothing about Aerospace Engineering (except that it had something to do with space flight) I already had a dozen questions ready in my head. This was my in, how I’d get to know this person who had the same eyes as me.
“Do either of you want a cup of tea?” asked Sarah, standing where the hardwood floor ended and the tiles on the floor of the conservatory started. “I’ve just put the kettle on.”
“Definitely,” said Dad. “Imogen?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll tell Harry to take out two more cups then,” she said, turning on her heel.
“Wait, what? Harry?”
Sarah smiled pleasantly. “Such a sweetheart, he is. Came right down and asked if I needed help with dinner. I put him to work chopping veg.”
Once she was gone, Dad looked back to me. “What were you going to say just then?”
“I was gonna ask what sort of stuff you’ve done in your field. R&D, contracting — whatever it is Aerospace Engineers do.”
“I worked on several projects before I got into teaching, I even led a few, but I’ve not done very much outside the university and its facilities since,” Dad said, setting down the clipboard on one of the stacks of paper. He folded his hands in his lap, fixing me with a curious stare. “Have you got a plan for after you graduate?”
“Well, it’s still a few years off, but I’ll probably do more school. If I get a job offer, I’ll go for it of course, but who knows.”
It felt less like I was talking to my dad, and more like I was being interviewed by an academic advisor. The whole room was stiff and uncomfortable, but I was determined to push through and not follow my instincts (running away very quickly). All of my momentum of earlier had been brought to a screeching halt with Sarah coming in, leaving me with a bunch of questions that didn’t really seem relevant anymore and no idea of what to say next.
Dad was looking at me with this expression, somewhere between amused and…proud? that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, so I looked back outside and watched the wind rustle the branches of the trees that lined the street.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes?” My head whipped back toward him, relief flooding through my system. If he’d waited for me to say something, we would’ve been sitting her a while.
“Why Astrophysics?”
There were not many people I was comfortable talking to about Astrophysics, aside from professors and other students in my program. My mom was one (though I think most of my rants about theories and formulas went over her head when we talked on the phone), then Matt, and sometimes Jillian, but usually when I so much as mentioned the word she’d call me Queen of the Nerds and I’d drop it immediately. I liked to think that someday I’d tell Harry about stars and planets and the universe and why I found it all so fascinating, because in the back of my mind, I knew he’d actually sit there and listen, but after hearing him say all the things he’d already figured out about me just by paying attention I felt like I needed to keep something for myself. It was my saving grace before, and giving it up to somebody who was so close to having everything wasn’t something I’d let happen this easily.
But I was looking at my dad and seeing the pure curiosity on his face, realizing that if there was anybody I could tell, it was him. It had everything to do with him, after all.
“When I was a kid, I’d see you every few years for a weekend or even just a day. I didn’t know you, you were just this guy who’d come around and say you were my dad. But back then, I was desperate for some sort of connection. Something substantial that I could hold on to when you went back to your regular life again. When you took me to Coney Island and you talked about how all the rides worked, stuff about momentum and gravity, you made me curious about something I’d never really thought of before. Mom always wanted me to be more like her, she signed me up for art classes and pottery and all this stuff but I never got it.
“After you’d left, I asked Mom what it was you did. She said you were an Aerospace engineer. Now, I was ten, so I had no idea what that was. All I heard was ‘space.’ In New York there’s so much light pollution that you can’t really see anything, but I stared at those faint glimmers in the sky and I thought: this is it. I made Mom take me to the library the next day and checked out a bunch of books on space. The second I started reading I knew that it was for me. I’d always been better at math than drawing, so I figured that had to be why. Of course, I found out what Aerospace Engineering actually was a few years later, but I was too far gone by then.”
There was a creak to my right, and I turned to see Harry standing there, a cup of tea in each hand. I could tell immediately that he’d heard some, if not all, of what I’d said, and I kept my eyes away from his when he stepped further in to hand Dad his cup. So much for secrets.
“Hey,” Harry said in a quiet voice, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He was leaning down, the cup between his large hands, rings clinking against it whenever he moved. “I had to guess whether or not you take milk.”
The liquid in the cup was amber and clear. I grasped the handle, avoiding Harry’s hands as best I could, and finally met his gaze. “You guessed correct.”
A smile quirked at the edges of his mouth, but Harry didn’t say anything before he headed back to the kitchen.
That same look was back on Dad’s face. “I never thought…” he began, shifting the cup in his hands. “It always seemed obvious that you would turn out like your mother. I guess I just assumed you would. In the few times we have spoken over the years, you never told me about what sort of things you were interested in, so I had nothing to go on. But then when Marianne called me and said you were planning on going into sciences when you graduated, and that you wanted to study space, I was utterly shocked. I wanted to reach out to you then, but it did seem a bit presumptuous that you would actually want to talk to me, considering our lack of a relationship. I want you to know that I do regret not making more of an effort with you, Imogen, because I would have loved to talk to you about planets and space travel when you were young.”
“It’s my fault too,” I said, before he could get another word in. “I’d finally found something we could connect with but I never actually tried to talk to you about it. The next time I heard from you was Christmas, and I don’t know, I guess it just seemed like you didn’t really care when I needed you to.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
When our eyes met, something was different. There was an understanding between us now that would never have worked before. We were both in the right state of mind for it to be happening, for him to be my dad and not just some guy who sent postcards twice a year.
##
The next morning, I was woken by the sound of Harry puttering about the room. He’d slept on the too-short air mattress with no complaints, but I could see by the way he held himself that it hadn’t been a particularly comfortable night. By comparison, I’d slept wonderfully. I sat up and stretched, letting out a wide yawn.
“Morning,” Harry said in a groggy voice, putting on his belt. When I came upstairs last night, he was already getting into bed wearing nothing but a pair of tiny black boxer briefs. It took all of my self-control not to stare at the v-lines that disappeared beneath the waistband. While I normally slept sans-pants, I decided not to follow Harry’s example, and wore a pair of cotton shorts and the rowing sweatshirt.
“Mmm,” was all I could manage, sliding out of bed and going straight for my duffle. I pulled out a striped shirt and a pair of jeans, tucking fresh underwear and a bra underneath my arm, and headed to the bathroom.
He’d already gone downstairs by the time I returned, tangled hair twisted into a bun and sleep washed from my face, and I quickly followed suit. The smell of bacon hit my senses like a wave, and I went straight to the kitchen. Sarah was the only one in there, though, and she was quick to offer me a cup of coffee.
“They’re in the conservatory,” she said, once I’d taken the mug from her hands.
“Thanks,” I said. “Did you need a hand with anything?”
Sarah smiled. “I’ll be just fine, thanks, love.”
Mae and Dad were on the love seat and Harry occupied the chair I’d sat in yesterday, leaving the chair on the other side of the couch for me. I pulled it closer to Mae, who had a book in her lap and was paying attention to nothing else. I didn’t listen to whatever Harry and Dad were talking about, curious to see what the young girl was reading.
The book was one of those children’s encyclopaedia things, and she was reading an article on stegosauruses. “I don’t know anything about dinosaurs,” I said, sitting back in my chair.
Mae glanced up at me. “I don’t either, really, I just like to read about things.”
“This one’s never without a book,” Dad said, reaching over to pat his daughter’s head.
“Daaad,” she whined, attempting to smooth the mess he’d made of her hair. He just smiled at her, and they shared this look that made my insides twist. It woke up this ache that I hadn’t felt since I was a little kid when I saw other children and their fathers, knowing I’d never have that.
A pair of eyes had been on me since I came into the room, and they burned holes in the side of my head now. I met Harry’s gaze, his eyebrows knit together and his lips curved into a frown, concern swimming in the depths of his avocado eyes.
“Breakfast!” Sarah called from the kitchen.
I let Mae and Dad go through first, feeling that Harry wanted to say something to me without anyone else around. First he reached out, hand hovering halfway between us, but then he seemed to rethink the movement and let his hand fall back to his side.
“All right?” he asked quietly.
Instead of answering, I gave him a thumbs up. I was just waiting for the moment he would bring up what he’d overheard me telling Dad yesterday. The thing I’d avoided since we met, that I was keeping to myself above everything else, that I would’ve told him in my own time had he not stepped into the room and precisely the wrong moment. Harry knew that, and I figured he was biding his time, trying to figure when and what he would say.
We were sat around the table, enjoying the variety of breakfast food Sarah had prepared. Harry happily ate his cereal next to me, opening his mouth as wide as it could possibly go despite the spoon not being all that big. Like with everything else he did, it was completely distracting, and I found myself staring in fascination at the way he ate instead of listening to Sarah tell us about the plan for the day.
“Honestly, it’s like I’m something in a petri dish, the way you look at me sometimes,” Harry said suddenly, tilting his head toward me and raising his eyebrows.
“Wrong discipline,” I replied immediately. That only made him grin.
Sarah, who’d stopped talking when Harry spoke up, looked between us with her lips pursed, fighting off a smile. I was doing the same, not wanting to let Harry’s contagious grin infect me.
“Right,” she continued. “As I was saying, we realize that just walking around isn’t something you can do, Harry, which—“
“You don’t need to change your plans because of me,” he interrupted, serious mode switched on. “Have a family day, yeah? I can go see some friends of mine. But I would like to take you all for dinner, if that’s all right.”
It was decided, after a lot of (polite) demanding on Harry’s part, that we would go to a quiet restaurant just south of the neighbourhood for dinner. He only had to send a few texts before his day was booked up, and was going to leave as soon as he finished eating.
Everyone helped clear the table, then Harry ran upstairs to get his beanie and coat, having left his boots by the door. I waited in the foyer with my arms folded across my chest, half-listening to Dad and Sarah talking in the other room about whether or not some museum they liked would be open. A few seconds later Harry was back, shrugging on his coat, pink beanie covering up his curls.
“See you later,” he said, once his boots were on. “Try to enjoy today, yeah?”
I nodded, tucking my chin to my chest. “Text me if things get boring.”
“I’ll text you even if they don’t.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone in the house with three people I still wasn’t used to calling family, and I realized why Jillian had suggested that somebody else come along this weekend. Harry was like a buffer, even when he wasn’t in the same room, because there was somebody else there to keep things normal, to stop me from freaking out. But now he wasn’t, and I could still hear Sarah and Dad talking, and I felt at a loss for what to do.
“Imogen?”
I spun around, seeing Mae standing a few feet away, encyclopaedia tucked under one arm. “Hey,” I smiled.
“D’you wanna see my room? I’ve got lots more books up there. And I still need help with my maths, if you wanna look at it.”
Mae and I hung out in her room until Sarah came to tell us it was time to go. Since I didn’t pay attention during breakfast, Sarah reiterated the day’s plan as we left the house. We would drive into the city, do a bit of wandering around, then Dad wanted to show me the university. It seemed like a fairly easy, low stress day, and I kept repeating Harry’s words to enjoy myself in my head.
The university was by far the most interesting part of the day. Dad could get in almost anywhere, and showed me his office, the lecture halls, and some of the research labs. Since it was the weekend, there weren’t any classes, but a few of Dad’s colleagues were at work in the labs, and were happy to explain to us what they were working on. As the day went on, I started to hold my head a little higher, the heaviness in my chest and the twisting in my stomach slowly disappearing. I still looked away whenever Dad and Mae had one of their moments, because it was too late for me, but it hurt less and less with every hour.
##
Why didn’t I decide to be an engineer
stars are great, but this stuff is really fucking awesome
What stuff? Where are you?
In a lab at MU
there’s all these diagrams and stuff of how they build planes
THIS IS SO COOL
So it’s going well? You haven’t texted me all day
It was weird at first
like I didn’t know what to say and stuff
but it’s ok now
:)
##[/center[
Harry woke me up again Sunday morning, but on purpose this time. I groaned and rolled over, meaning to bury my face in the pillow and forgetting that I was on the air mattress, and landed on the hard floor. Harry laughed, a high-pitched giggle that made his entire body shake, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“All right there, Imogen?”
“Fuck you,” I mumbled, sitting up. My back was a little sore, but it seemed a little unfair to subject Harry and his extraordinarily long limbs to the floor for two nights. I struggled to my feet, yawning, and threw a bleary expression toward Harry. “When are we leaving?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “It’s only a forty minute drive to Holmes Chapel from here.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “Then I’m having a shower. You should too. Your hair is gross.”
“It is not,” Harry objected, lifting a defensive hand to his head. He pushed the hair back from his forehead, only for it to fall back over his eyes. I raised an eyebrow at him, but left it at that.
Over breakfast, Dad asked us how long we planned to stay. Harry explained that we were going to see his mum, and that he wanted to get there some time between lunch and dinner. We ended up spending the rest of the morning sitting around the house, me helping Mae with her homework and Dad and Harry talking about the football matches on this afternoon. Sarah had gone out to see a friend, and wouldn’t be back until after we’d gone, so she hugged both of us and made us promise we’d visit again soon before leaving.
Mae and I soon went and joined Dad and Harry in front of the TV, having finished an entire section in her math book. When we sat down, I caught Dad look at us with a small smile on his face. Mae saw it too, her eyes narrowing.
“You’ve got one of those ‘dad’ smiles on your face,” she said with suspicion.
“I just never thought I’d see this. You two, together,” he said. “Doing maths, of all things.”
“Congratulations, you’ve got two daughters who are even bigger nerds than you are,” I said in a dry voice. Harry snorted.
“What is it Jillian calls you? Queen of the Nerds?”
I scowled at him, only making Harry grin wider. I was hit with the sudden urge to kiss him, right there, the desire pulling so strongly that I had to shift my entire body away from him, tear my eyes from his, and stick my hands between my knees to stop from reaching for his collar. I tried blinking rapidly to clear my head, but every time my eyes shut I saw Harry standing in my dorm room with no shirt, hands fumbling with my belt, curses tumbling from his lips as they moved against mine.
“I’m gonna, um, get some more coffee.”
I was dreading being back in that car. It was a wonder that the past two days had been as easy as they were, considering I’d slept in the same room as Harry without thinking twice about it. But I’d had other things to think about then, like how I was going to connect with my dad, Sarah and Mae, and I’d spent most of yesterday without him there.
When it came time for us to leave, I’d calmed down for the most part, having pushed the thoughts of Harry to the back of my mind. But he’d caught onto my behaviour, how I put an extra foot of space between us at all times and kept my hands busy, my eyes avoiding his face as much as possible. He didn’t say anything, because he never did unless we were alone, for whatever reason.
Mae hugged me tight and asked if she could come to London for a visit, but I had to explain to her that it wasn’t my choice, it was up to her parents. I watched as she didn’t hug Harry but waved instead, offering a bright smile that he returned happily. The only thing left was to say goodbye to Dad, which I’d done several times before, never knowing whether or not I’d see him again. It was different this time, because I knew that I would, and for what felt like the hundredth time this weekend, I didn’t know what to do.
It seemed like he didn’t know either. For a long moment we stood there, staring at each other, hands at our sides. But I told myself to stop thinking and just do something, and took a step forward to wrap my arms around the man who was finally starting to feel like my dad.
As soon as we were out of the house, Harry’s happy demeanour dropped. He frowned, deeply and thoughtfully, as we walked toward the car. Harry took my bag and tossed both into the back seat, then climbed in and fired up the engine, pulling away from the curb right after I shut the passenger door. I knew the questions were coming, he’d held back ever since we arrived in Manchester.
But all the way to Holmes Chapel, Harry stayed surprisingly quiet. His frown remained, leaving me as confused as ever, just waiting for something to happen. I suppose I could just ask him what was making him think so much, but I knew better than to poke Harry when he was in this sort of mood. He’d just snap at me, sending us three steps backward.
The house Harry pulled up to was big, but not in an intimidating way, with a garden that was probably gorgeous in the warmer months, but brown and bare this time of year. We didn’t talk as we walked up to the door, bags slung over our shoulders. A woman with long dark hair opened the door, a smile spreading across her face when she saw Harry. He stopped frowning to smile back, easing the crease between his eyebrows that bothered me endlessly.
“You didn’t say you were coming to visit,” she said in that mildly accusatory tone that only mothers can pull off.
“M’sorry,” said Harry, ducking his head.
“Dude, you’ve had since Wednesday to tell your mom we were stopping here,” I couldn’t help but interject. I wanted to hit his arm, because showing up announced wasn’t cool, but kept my hands in my pockets.
Then Harry’s mom saw me, standing just behind his lanky frame, her expression going from surprised to confused to curious. “Hello,” she said, briefly throwing an exasperated look towards Harry. “I don’t think Harry’s brought a girl ‘round since—“
“This isn’t like that,” Harry interrupted in a strained voice, far from his usual low drawl. “We’re just friends.”
“I’m Imogen,” I said, when it became obvious he wasn’t going to introduce me.
“Anne,” she replied, shaking my hand. “Do come in, you two. You’ll catch a chill if you stay out there any longer.”
We left our bags in the foyer, and headed to the kitchen. The house itself was gorgeous, which I guess wasn’t all that surprising, and I had to stop myself from wandering off to peek in the open doorways. There wasn’t anyone else home, and Harry inquired after his step-father, Robin, who appeared to be out for the day. Anne put on the kettle and we sat around the island, Anne on one side and Harry and I on the other.
It wasn’t a large countertop, and our elbows bumped together, causing both Harry and I to flinch back. I’d been doing it all day, but now that he was doing just the same thing, I started to wonder what was really going on in his head.
“So, Imogen, how is it you know Harry?”
“She’s friends with Matt,” Harry said before I could even open my mouth.
Anne shot him a look. “I don’t recall your name being Imogen.”
He frowned into his tea, and stayed quiet. Anne turned back to me, smiling, waiting for my own response to her previous question.
“I am friends with Matt,” I confirmed. “We go to the same university.”
“Oh! What are you reading?”
I could feel Harry look at me, probably expecting a lie or vague answer, which I was definitely about to give. “Um, I’m in sciences. Physics. I study Physics.”
“Astrophysics. Space and stuff,” Harry said helpfully. I didn’t look at him, smiling tightly at Anne instead.
“Sounds complicated,” Anne replied. “You must be very intelligent, dear.”
“Not really.”
“She hates talking about it,” Harry said. “She doesn’t understand that begin smart isn’t something you should be shy about.”
“I’m sitting right here,” I informed him, since he’d been talking like I wasn’t next to him for the last five minutes.
Anne looked between us. “I think perhaps I should give you a tour of the house now,” she said, breaking the tense silence between Harry and I.
Dinner was quiet, with Anne and I providing the majority of the conversation. Harry picked at his food in stony silence, eyebrows drawn together. Still, he helped with the dishes and didn’t forget to thank his mother for the meal. I left them to do some catching up and went into the guest bedroom, changing into a tank top and cotton shorts. It was only eight, but I was sitting in bed braiding my hair, ready to fall asleep. Considering we had to leave early in the morning to get back to London in time for my first class, it probably wasn’t a bad idea to go to sleep early. Maybe not this early, but not as late as we had been for the last couple nights, where we lay in our respective beds and talked about nothing.
After watching a few terrible cooking shows, Anne went to bed and left Harry and I sitting in the living room. “I think I’m gonna head to bed now too,” I said.
“Okay.”
“Night, Harry.”
“Night.”
I lay awake for what felt like hours, but was probably less than ten minutes. I’d put on my sweater, but that soon got too hot, so I threw it aside and lay back down. Then my shorts started to bug me, and since I was alone, I took them off too. But I still couldn’t sleep. My body was restless, not ready to be still on the mattress. I pulled a pillow over my head and groaned into it, trying to will myself to sleep.
There were three soft raps at the door. I sat up quickly, adjusting the blankets around my legs so that they were covered, and made a noise to let the person know they could come in. It was dark, but it couldn’t really be anyone else, and that tall frame with a messy head of hair was unmistakable.
“Were you asleep?” he asked, stepping further into the room.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
The light of the hallway cast Harry in shadow, but I could see that his torso was bare, and guessed that he was wearing another pair of those terrible boxer briefs.
“Can I come in?”
“You’re already standing in the room.”
Harry sighed. “Imogen.”
“Yes, fine, whatever,” I waved a hand. “Do you…want something?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, hunching forward, hair obscuring his face. The door was closed now, so I could just make out his outline, but the tattoos on his shoulder were darker than everything else, and I traced the lines running along his skin with my eyes.
“I just—“ he started, voice shutting off suddenly. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?”
“You.”
I leaned closer, the sheet bunching around my hips, and tried to see his face. “What about me?”
“We’re friends,” Harry said.
“Duh.”
“We’re friends,” he repeated, ignoring me. “But we’re not.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s been bloody difficult, being around you. I just want to—“ He stopped, finally looking at me in the darkness. “And I know it’s bothering you too. But I don’t want things to change. They can’t. We’re just friends.”
I swallowed, hardly able to bear the strain in his voice. “We’re just friends who’ve made out,” I reminded him.
Harry let out a breathy laugh and bit his lip. “Fucking hell, Imogen, really?”
“Badly timed jokes are my forte, you know that.”
“But—yeah,” he said. He moved closer to me, eyes finding mine in the dark. His knee bumped against mine, the sheet separating our skin, and we both moved. “D’you mind if I stay? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anywhere else.”
With that, the conversation was over. Whatever he’d been trying to say wasn’t going to be said tonight. I slid over, lying flat on my back, and tried not to watch Harry slip under the blankets next to me. There was a space between us that I was very aware of, but not as aware as I was of Harry, who’d already fallen asleep. I stared at his face in bewilderment, wondering how tired he must’ve been to fall asleep just like that. All that frowning must be exhausting.
Harry woke me up again Sunday morning, but on purpose this time. I groaned and rolled over, meaning to bury my face in the pillow and forgetting that I was on the air mattress, and landed on the hard floor. Harry laughed, a high-pitched giggle that made his entire body shake, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“All right there, Imogen?”
“Fuck you,” I mumbled, sitting up. My back was a little sore, but it seemed a little unfair to subject Harry and his extraordinarily long limbs to the floor for two nights. I struggled to my feet, yawning, and threw a bleary expression toward Harry. “When are we leaving?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “It’s only a forty minute drive to Holmes Chapel from here.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “Then I’m having a shower. You should too. Your hair is gross.”
“It is not,” Harry objected, lifting a defensive hand to his head. He pushed the hair back from his forehead, only for it to fall back over his eyes. I raised an eyebrow at him, but left it at that.
Over breakfast, Dad asked us how long we planned to stay. Harry explained that we were going to see his mum, and that he wanted to get there some time between lunch and dinner. We ended up spending the rest of the morning sitting around the house, me helping Mae with her homework and Dad and Harry talking about the football matches on this afternoon. Sarah had gone out to see a friend, and wouldn’t be back until after we’d gone, so she hugged both of us and made us promise we’d visit again soon before leaving.
Mae and I soon went and joined Dad and Harry in front of the TV, having finished an entire section in her math book. When we sat down, I caught Dad look at us with a small smile on his face. Mae saw it too, her eyes narrowing.
“You’ve got one of those ‘dad’ smiles on your face,” she said with suspicion.
“I just never thought I’d see this. You two, together,” he said. “Doing maths, of all things.”
“Congratulations, you’ve got two daughters who are even bigger nerds than you are,” I said in a dry voice. Harry snorted.
“What is it Jillian calls you? Queen of the Nerds?”
I scowled at him, only making Harry grin wider. I was hit with the sudden urge to kiss him, right there, the desire pulling so strongly that I had to shift my entire body away from him, tear my eyes from his, and stick my hands between my knees to stop from reaching for his collar. I tried blinking rapidly to clear my head, but every time my eyes shut I saw Harry standing in my dorm room with no shirt, hands fumbling with my belt, curses tumbling from his lips as they moved against mine.
“I’m gonna, um, get some more coffee.”
I was dreading being back in that car. It was a wonder that the past two days had been as easy as they were, considering I’d slept in the same room as Harry without thinking twice about it. But I’d had other things to think about then, like how I was going to connect with my dad, Sarah and Mae, and I’d spent most of yesterday without him there.
When it came time for us to leave, I’d calmed down for the most part, having pushed the thoughts of Harry to the back of my mind. But he’d caught onto my behaviour, how I put an extra foot of space between us at all times and kept my hands busy, my eyes avoiding his face as much as possible. He didn’t say anything, because he never did unless we were alone, for whatever reason.
Mae hugged me tight and asked if she could come to London for a visit, but I had to explain to her that it wasn’t my choice, it was up to her parents. I watched as she didn’t hug Harry but waved instead, offering a bright smile that he returned happily. The only thing left was to say goodbye to Dad, which I’d done several times before, never knowing whether or not I’d see him again. It was different this time, because I knew that I would, and for what felt like the hundredth time this weekend, I didn’t know what to do.
It seemed like he didn’t know either. For a long moment we stood there, staring at each other, hands at our sides. But I told myself to stop thinking and just do something, and took a step forward to wrap my arms around the man who was finally starting to feel like my dad.
As soon as we were out of the house, Harry’s happy demeanour dropped. He frowned, deeply and thoughtfully, as we walked toward the car. Harry took my bag and tossed both into the back seat, then climbed in and fired up the engine, pulling away from the curb right after I shut the passenger door. I knew the questions were coming, he’d held back ever since we arrived in Manchester.
But all the way to Holmes Chapel, Harry stayed surprisingly quiet. His frown remained, leaving me as confused as ever, just waiting for something to happen. I suppose I could just ask him what was making him think so much, but I knew better than to poke Harry when he was in this sort of mood. He’d just snap at me, sending us three steps backward.
The house Harry pulled up to was big, but not in an intimidating way, with a garden that was probably gorgeous in the warmer months, but brown and bare this time of year. We didn’t talk as we walked up to the door, bags slung over our shoulders. A woman with long dark hair opened the door, a smile spreading across her face when she saw Harry. He stopped frowning to smile back, easing the crease between his eyebrows that bothered me endlessly.
“You didn’t say you were coming to visit,” she said in that mildly accusatory tone that only mothers can pull off.
“M’sorry,” said Harry, ducking his head.
“Dude, you’ve had since Wednesday to tell your mom we were stopping here,” I couldn’t help but interject. I wanted to hit his arm, because showing up announced wasn’t cool, but kept my hands in my pockets.
Then Harry’s mom saw me, standing just behind his lanky frame, her expression going from surprised to confused to curious. “Hello,” she said, briefly throwing an exasperated look towards Harry. “I don’t think Harry’s brought a girl ‘round since—“
“This isn’t like that,” Harry interrupted in a strained voice, far from his usual low drawl. “We’re just friends.”
“I’m Imogen,” I said, when it became obvious he wasn’t going to introduce me.
“Anne,” she replied, shaking my hand. “Do come in, you two. You’ll catch a chill if you stay out there any longer.”
We left our bags in the foyer, and headed to the kitchen. The house itself was gorgeous, which I guess wasn’t all that surprising, and I had to stop myself from wandering off to peek in the open doorways. There wasn’t anyone else home, and Harry inquired after his step-father, Robin, who appeared to be out for the day. Anne put on the kettle and we sat around the island, Anne on one side and Harry and I on the other.
It wasn’t a large countertop, and our elbows bumped together, causing both Harry and I to flinch back. I’d been doing it all day, but now that he was doing just the same thing, I started to wonder what was really going on in his head.
“So, Imogen, how is it you know Harry?”
“She’s friends with Matt,” Harry said before I could even open my mouth.
Anne shot him a look. “I don’t recall your name being Imogen.”
He frowned into his tea, and stayed quiet. Anne turned back to me, smiling, waiting for my own response to her previous question.
“I am friends with Matt,” I confirmed. “We go to the same university.”
“Oh! What are you reading?”
I could feel Harry look at me, probably expecting a lie or vague answer, which I was definitely about to give. “Um, I’m in sciences. Physics. I study Physics.”
“Astrophysics. Space and stuff,” Harry said helpfully. I didn’t look at him, smiling tightly at Anne instead.
“Sounds complicated,” Anne replied. “You must be very intelligent, dear.”
“Not really.”
“She hates talking about it,” Harry said. “She doesn’t understand that begin smart isn’t something you should be shy about.”
“I’m sitting right here,” I informed him, since he’d been talking like I wasn’t next to him for the last five minutes.
Anne looked between us. “I think perhaps I should give you a tour of the house now,” she said, breaking the tense silence between Harry and I.
Dinner was quiet, with Anne and I providing the majority of the conversation. Harry picked at his food in stony silence, eyebrows drawn together. Still, he helped with the dishes and didn’t forget to thank his mother for the meal. I left them to do some catching up and went into the guest bedroom, changing into a tank top and cotton shorts. It was only eight, but I was sitting in bed braiding my hair, ready to fall asleep. Considering we had to leave early in the morning to get back to London in time for my first class, it probably wasn’t a bad idea to go to sleep early. Maybe not this early, but not as late as we had been for the last couple nights, where we lay in our respective beds and talked about nothing.
After watching a few terrible cooking shows, Anne went to bed and left Harry and I sitting in the living room. “I think I’m gonna head to bed now too,” I said.
“Okay.”
“Night, Harry.”
“Night.”
##
I lay awake for what felt like hours, but was probably less than ten minutes. I’d put on my sweater, but that soon got too hot, so I threw it aside and lay back down. Then my shorts started to bug me, and since I was alone, I took them off too. But I still couldn’t sleep. My body was restless, not ready to be still on the mattress. I pulled a pillow over my head and groaned into it, trying to will myself to sleep.
There were three soft raps at the door. I sat up quickly, adjusting the blankets around my legs so that they were covered, and made a noise to let the person know they could come in. It was dark, but it couldn’t really be anyone else, and that tall frame with a messy head of hair was unmistakable.
“Were you asleep?” he asked, stepping further into the room.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
The light of the hallway cast Harry in shadow, but I could see that his torso was bare, and guessed that he was wearing another pair of those terrible boxer briefs.
“Can I come in?”
“You’re already standing in the room.”
Harry sighed. “Imogen.”
“Yes, fine, whatever,” I waved a hand. “Do you…want something?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, hunching forward, hair obscuring his face. The door was closed now, so I could just make out his outline, but the tattoos on his shoulder were darker than everything else, and I traced the lines running along his skin with my eyes.
“I just—“ he started, voice shutting off suddenly. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?”
“You.”
I leaned closer, the sheet bunching around my hips, and tried to see his face. “What about me?”
“We’re friends,” Harry said.
“Duh.”
“We’re friends,” he repeated, ignoring me. “But we’re not.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s been bloody difficult, being around you. I just want to—“ He stopped, finally looking at me in the darkness. “And I know it’s bothering you too. But I don’t want things to change. They can’t. We’re just friends.”
I swallowed, hardly able to bear the strain in his voice. “We’re just friends who’ve made out,” I reminded him.
Harry let out a breathy laugh and bit his lip. “Fucking hell, Imogen, really?”
“Badly timed jokes are my forte, you know that.”
“But—yeah,” he said. He moved closer to me, eyes finding mine in the dark. His knee bumped against mine, the sheet separating our skin, and we both moved. “D’you mind if I stay? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anywhere else.”
With that, the conversation was over. Whatever he’d been trying to say wasn’t going to be said tonight. I slid over, lying flat on my back, and tried not to watch Harry slip under the blankets next to me. There was a space between us that I was very aware of, but not as aware as I was of Harry, who’d already fallen asleep. I stared at his face in bewilderment, wondering how tired he must’ve been to fall asleep just like that. All that frowning must be exhausting.
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there's a lot in this one, so if you'd like to talk about it, drop me a comment on here or over on tumblr. I'll be replying to them in the morning :)marigoldcafe.tumblr.com