He takes a big deep breath and looks at me. "It’s fine," he tries to say, and I snap.
"It’s not fucking fine." I slap my hand on my mouth, the calm, cool, collected Harlow is gone. The one who was always trying to sugarcoat shit is gone. The last phone call was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I didn’t even have time to process it before he called and I’m not sure it would make a difference. "It’s not fucking fine!" I shout again. "Nothing about this is fine. Not one fucking thing." I throw up my hands. "I hate that I haven’t seen you in over a week. I hate that the last time I saw you I spent three hours with you. I hate that I haven’t been able to fall asleep beside you. I fucking hate it!” I shout and then finally take a breath.
"Are you done?" he asks calmly, making me glare at him.
"Does it look like I’m done, Travis?" I hiss at him.
"You’re sexy when you are mad," he states with his smile that makes me forget everything I was thinking about before.
"Stop trying to make me feel better," I snap at him, and if he was in front of me, he would probably pull me to him and just hold me, which makes me even madder. "You were right," I admit. "This long distance is." I stop talking before I say it’s not working out. "It’s a lot."
"It’s a learning curve." He tries to be the voice of reason. "I wish I could swing coming to see you, but Micehlle just gave birth early and Roy just took off on vacation." He mentions his two partners.
"It’s fine," I say, ignoring the panging in my chest. "Besides, knowing our luck, you get here and I’d be called away for ten hours and then what?”
There is a beep on his side and he looks down. "I have to go," he says and all I can do is look at him. "I’ll call you in a bit." I don’t answer him because there is a lump stuck in my throat. "Hey," he says when I look down. "Harlow." He says my name so I look up at him. When my eyes meet his, he just smiles sadly. "We’ll work it out," he assures me softly and I want to argue with him but another beep goes out.
"Go," I say and I press disconnect before he does. "Fuck," is all I can say as I turn my chair and look outside at the sun that is slowly setting. When I stand from my chair, my body feels like it’s been run over by a Mack truck. Every single step hurts, and when I get home, I barely make it up the steps before turning and just sitting in one of the chairs.
I feel the phone buzz in my pocket, and when my hand reaches for it, I see it’s him. I let it ring until it goes to voice mail and then hear the sound of rocks and I look up. The black truck stops right behind mine and I watch my father step out.
He takes two steps up and stops when he spots me sitting in the dark. "What in the Sam Hill are you doing sitting outside in the dark?" He walks over to me and then stops when he sees me. I probably look like a wreck; tears are smeared all down my cheeks for sure. "Who died?" I try to laugh but instead a sob just comes out of me and I put a hand to my mouth. He squats down in front of me, grabbing the other hand in his. "Harlow," he whispers in a plea. "I’m not going to lie, you are really freaking me out right now." He looks around and I can imagine he’s wondering how he can call someone without leaving me.
"I’m fine," I say and then sniffle. "I mean, I’m not really fine."
"What is it?" he says, pushing away the hair from my face. "Whatever it is, we can get through it. Are you sick?" he asks and I shake my head.
He puts his head down on my legs. "Thank God," he utters. "I thought you were going to tell me that you’re dying." He laughs uncomfortably. "Gotta say you took a million years off my life."
I laugh and wipe the tear off my cheek. "I’m not sick," I reassure him. "But I’m not happy, Dad." I say the words I’ve been scared to say out loud in the last four years. "I tried to be happy, I did." I smile at him but the tears come. "But it’s just my heart is empty here."
"Harlow," he whispers and I can see his own tears in his eyes. "Honey." He cups my cheek.