It was bad. I knew I was fixated on her, and I knew I was acting crazy. I should have called my therapist and scheduled an emergency meeting, but I didn’t really want to analyze it. I just wanted to see her. There was no harm in that. I wasn’t going to screw up whatever she had with her new man and her daughter.
So I rode my bike past her house three different times. I was about to give up and go home, but on the fourth ride by, I saw her. And her little girl.
They were just getting back from somewhere, just getting out of the car. I saw Harper first, as she got out of the driver’s seat. She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy bun with a few curly strands escaping. Something about it, even though it was utterly relaxed and practical, the look of a mom on the go, was incredibly alluring.
She shut her door and went around to the rear door, opening it and pulling her little girl out in her arms. And that little girl…
I wasn’t a geneticist by any means. But I was pretty sure her daughter looked mixed. Her skin was a few shades lighter than her mom’s, and her eyes looked lighter, although I was too far away to really tell for sure. She was beautiful, so precious and small. I wasn’t sure how old she was, but as she wrapped her legs around her mother’s waist, sleepily sucking her thumb as she laid her head on her mother’s shoulder, I knew that she must be at least two.
Harper clearly hadn’t waited long after her return before finding her new man.
I swallowed hard, knowing that I had no right to be here, watching the two of them. This was definitely crazy. The kind of crazy that made women get restraining orders against guys like me. But I couldn’t turn away from them.
I watched until Harper and her daughter disappeared into their building. I wished I knew the daughter’s name. I wished Harper would agree to get a drink with me. I wouldn’t do anything, not when she was clearly married and had moved on with her life. I didn’t want to spoil her happiness. But I just wanted to know about her. To tie up loose ends.
I rode my bike back to my house and strode into the exercise room, taking out my feelings on the punching bag.
I felt sick to my stomach, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. I’d believed Stone when he said that Harper had a daughter. He’d have no reason to lie about it, after all. But actually seeing the girl and knowing that Harper had this whole other life, one that I didn’t know anything about, one that I would never know anything about, that was difficult.
I didn’t know what I’d expected. Of course she would have moved on. It’d been years. I hadn’t expected her to be sitting around waiting for me or anything like that. I just hadn’t expected things to change so drastically.
I was angry, and it took me a bit to figure out why. This felt like a slap in the face, not because Harper had found someone else. But what were the chances that I’d end up living this close to her, that I’d run into her at all? Boston was a big city; even if we were both living there, why did I have to find out about her and her kid? It was like the universe was just showing me something that I could never have.
I was frustrated, too. I didn’t know why I couldn’t seem to quit thinking about her, or why it seemed like the more I tried to stop thinking about her, the more I thought about her. I was frustrated with myself.
I hated that I hadn’t said goodbye to her that night when we got called away. I hated that she hadn’t been there when I’d gotten back. I knew there was no point in thinking back to all of that now. There was no changing any of it. But it felt like I’d been given just a taste of what my life could be like, and then the fates had conspired to take it all away from me in the stupidest way possible.
Not that I believed in fate or destiny or any of that bullshit. As a soldier, you learned pretty quickly that you had to make your own luck. But I supposed that was a lesson I’d learned way back in my childhood before I’d ever joined the service and donned a uniform.
I groaned as a particularly hard hit sent pain flaring through my hand. I shook out my fingers, knowing that I needed to stop. But I couldn’t seem to quit thinking about her.
I thought about grabbing my bike and going for another ride, this one far away. But I knew I’d push it too hard, ride too far and too fast, and I didn’t need that. Same problem with running.
I had to find a way to calm down and clear my mind. And I needed to call my therapist. I didn’t really want to share this with anyone; I wanted this to be a secret. But I also could recognize the signs of crazy forming inside of myself, and I didn’t want that to bubble over into my actual life. I didn’t want to do anything I’d regret.
I took some deep breaths and dialed her number. But when the receptionist answered, I didn’t want to tell her that I was having a mental breakdown, that I was going crazy, that this was an emergency and I needed to talk to someone right now. It rankled me to admit that I couldn’t handle myself. I’d been doing so good, ever since coming back. I didn’t want to need help.
Anyway, it wasn’t like this was really an emergency. I wasn’t going to kill myself or anything. I wasn’t a danger to Harper or to that beautiful little angel of hers. I just needed to calm down.
I scheduled the appointment for Wednesday. Give myself a couple days to try to work through things on my own. I could do that. Maybe I would be able to figure out what it was I even wanted to say to my therapist before the appointment. Right now, I didn’t really know how to describe it.
What did I want from Harper? What had I expected in coming here?
I’d tried to tell myself that I wasn’t coming to Boston just in the hopes of running into Harper, but I was beginning to wonder whether that was really true. I could have chosen anywhere in the country to go back to. I didn’t need to be here.
I tried to tell myself that it was because of that postcard, the one of Cape Cod. That it was because I wanted to be by the ocean, at least for a little while. Because I wanted that reminder that I wasn’t in Kuwait anymore. Because I thought I needed that.
But I knew I wasn’t really here for the ocean. I was here because Harper was here and because that made this place feel safer than anywhere else.
I shook my head and went out to the backyard, sitting down in the grass beneath the lone tree the owners had planted for shade. Having a backyard was still a novelty, a luxury I’d never had growing up. I took in a deep breath of the air, letting it out slowly. Meditation and mindfulness—I’d gone to a seminar
about that when I’d first come back. I thought all of it sounded like some sort of hippie mumbo jumbo, but maybe there was something to it.
Maybe instead of punching bags, I needed more yoga in my life.
I snorted at the thought of it.
But I closed my eyes and rested my head against the tree, feeling the rough bark pressing into my back and trying to think of anything other than Harper. For the first time since I’d come home, I let myself wish I were still back in uniform. At least there, I knew what I was doing. I understood my place in the universe. I had a purpose.