I take the tissue from his hand and wipe my eyes. I haven’t dreamt of Mason in months and never like this. They’ve always been about the accident and how it plays out in my mind. This dream… it means something else, but what?
“Thank you,” I say, clearing my throat. He stands and nods, heading back to the chair he was sitting in until he woke me. I look out of the window, the passing fields flying by as we travel down the highway. I don’t know where we are, but all I can see is a random farmhouse every now and again.
Harrison clears his throat loudly. My kneejerk reaction is to look over. He rubs his hand over his black beanie. It slides back and forth slightly. I watch intently, waiting for the tiniest hint of his hair. I wish he’d take the hat off, but he never does. If I had any nerve, I’d rip the sucker from his head and run. Burn the thing when he’s not looking.
The beanie moves only inches, nothing telling. He glances over, catching me staring. I can’t look away, even though I should. I look over my shoulder for anyone to rescue me. There’s no one. I’m alone with him.
I’ve known this man for months. We’ve had dinner. Work together almost daily. When we aren’t working, we are around each other, so why for the love of God can I not sit in the same general vicinity without needing someone else in the room? I’m a professional. He’s a professional. We can be adults.
Right?
I turn back, catching his eye. He shakes his head, turns and looks out the window. I open my mouth to say something… anything, but nothing comes out. I don’t understand why I can’t talk to him. It makes no sense, this way I’m acting toward him. I’m sure he’s a decent human being, regardless of the tattoos on his arms. It’s not just his arms though, his leg too. He has something on his calf, but unless I bend down to look or ask him, I’ll never know what it is.
I could drop a pen the next time I’m standing near him and get a good look. How long does it take to pick-up a pen and mentally take a picture? Longer than I have, because he’s always aware of me. It’s like he’s a magnet and I’m the piece of metal he wants to attach to, which is just silly because magnets are attracted to other magnets and I’m not a magnet.
When he gets up I jump, dropping the book I have resting in my lap. My gaze follows him down the aisle. He enters the girls’ room, and before I can get up and find out what the hell he’s doing in there, he’s out and holding Elle in his hands. She’s clinging to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Her face squished into the front of his shirt.
He stops in front of me. “She was crying.”
I look from him to my daughter and down the aisle. He heard her crying, but I didn’t? What does that make me?
I reach for her, but she clings to him. She whimpers lightly, which breaks my heart. She’s upset and would rather be comforted by him than me. I don’t get it.
“I can hold her for a while until she’s asleep again,” he offers. His voice is incredibly soft and caring. I nod, even though it pains me to do so. She needs her mother, not him. I’m the one who takes care of the girls. Me. Yet, it looks like Harrison has been holding her from the day she was born.
Watching him sit down with her, he moves with such care and ease. He reclines his chair, nestling Elle across his chest. I get up and cover them both with my blanket. He smiles so softly, as if this gesture was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him. He closes his eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around my baby. I wonder if he knows that he’s holding half my life in his hands.
I pull her hair away from her face and feel her forehead, testing for a fever. Maybe the driving is getting to her, making her sick. This is their first road trip, unlike Quinn who has done this many times. The girls have never gone anywhere.
“She feels fine, must’ve been a bad dream,” Harrison says this without opening his eyes. I hate to admit it, but he’s a natural. All I can do is step away and watch him keep the demons at bay.
"Do you think we should wake them?”
The sound of young voices, those of the other children, ring in my ear. I open my eyes slowly. Six pairs of eyes stare back at me. One set, in particular, has her arms crossed over her chest. She’s without her football and I wonder, if for one moment, she realizes she’s not holding it. I refuse to call attention to that fact. Maybe she needed this trip more than the rest of us.
I stretch and quickly surmise that sleeping in a chair is painful. I remember why I was sleeping here and look over to see Harrison and Elle still covered and sound asleep. She looks like she hasn’t moved an inch and by the looks of his arms, he has a death grip on her.
“Do you know if we are stopping soon?” Quinn asks. I haven’t seen much of him since we took off. He and Noah have spent a majority of their time in Liam and Josie’s room playing video games.