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Don't Give in to that Feeling
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V – All is quiet with a sleight of hand
Harvey pulled over in front of her building and texted her to come down. Sunglasses secured in the glove compartment of his emerald green Ford Mustang; just in case. He'd packed his suitcase with the suit he'd worn at his dad's funeral, some casual clothes and toiletries – no need for anyone to supply anything for him save for the woman he was about to drive to her hometown.
He saw her walk out of the building and immediately exited the car to get her suitcase.
"Let me take care of this for you." He grabbed the handle and opened the trunk.
"Thanks." She stood by his side, observing him.
"Been a long time since you've seen me without a suit." He placed the suitcase next to his and closed the trunk.
"I like your casual look."
He gave her a small smile and went to open the passenger door for her. "And I like you, whatever you're wearing."
"Now, you're going to make me feel bad for saying that." She sat in the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt.
He lingered on her tight jeans and traced the contours of her black V-neck knit t-shirt, stopping at the few buttons left open that revealed just enough of her bewitching womanhood – classy, sensual and real. He could see the white cotton lace bra with each breasts sitting lower than they would have been nestled in a Wonderbra, less close together and perfectly molded to his appreciation. He noticed her staring at him but he didn't care; he squatted down to her level.
He'd seen the chain that descended under the knitted fabric covering the spot his eyes had been coveting for so long. He placed his fingertips near her collarbone, grasped the pendant and looked her in the eye.
"Not that I don't enjoy the weight of your stare but people passing by might get the wrong idea, Harvey." She hadn't said anything about his fingers grazing her pulsating throat though.
"What happens on the sidewalk is none of my concern. But what you're wearing is. I've never seen this." He pulled out her chain set slowly. He felt her shiver beneath his fingertips.
"Jeez and me who thought you were just staring at my forty plus year old boobs." She rolled her eyes and took the pendant from his hand.
"How could I not? My eyes have been ogling that path for years."
"Like I hadn't noticed," she smiled softly.
"Except this time I'm intrigued." He took a closer look at the luminous pearls set along the Gold chain end in gold leaflets and precious leaves threaded through the other end. Dangling off its edge was a smaller pearl. "Did your dad give you this?"
She nodded and held the pendant tightly in her fist. "Yes."
"It's gorgeous," he moved forward and kissed her cheek, his palm lingering on the hand she'd used to clutch the pendant. "It's the little things that matter."
He was about to pull away when she caught his left wrist. "Or that give you away."
He was so far away from believing in God or another life. But she was making him so; she knew he didn't wear his dad's watch often. He hadn't realized this could mean so much to her. "Sometimes the words you cannot say or the things you wear are better than prayers."
She let go of his hand in sweet caress and he closed the passenger door. He moved around the car and sat on the driver's seat. As he fastened his own seatbelt, he noticed her ruffling through her bag. She took out a cassette adapter with a small cord that was plugged to her smartphone. She placed the cassette in the old cassette deck.
He turned the engine on. "Should I be scared of your playlist?"
"Sometimes music is enough to make you feel closer to someone." She'd used his own words. It made him feel uneasy for a moment, not liking she didn't trust he'd let her have this.
"As long as you don't empty out the air in the car habitat," he shrugged, trying to alleviate the mood.
"I can always take the train." He noticed U2's album cover of The Best of 1980-1990 on her music app.
He engaged the first gear. "And kill those passengers' ears? I can't let that happen."
"You know I have great taste." She pressed play.
They listened to the introductory notes of the first track.
"Why U2?" He started banging his head to the frantic guitar riff.
"Why not?" She placed her hand on his lap.
Small talk to bring up her dad in a more obvious manner wouldn't take. It was probably too soon anyway. So he teased her instead. "Pride killed the cat, you know?"
"It's curiosity, Harvey." He turned his head and saw the corner of her lips turn into a smile, the reference to the song acting as more than sweet evidence.
"Well… in the name of love…" He rolled the window down.
"Oh no!" He noticed pink shades hitting her face. "Please don't sing along."
He released the clutch, placed his hand on top of hers and sang his head off.
V
"So whose driveway am I pulling in again?" Harvey asked, scratching the back of his neck, spine tensed from hours spent behind the wheel.
"My grandma's," she explained.
"On your mother's side." There were still things about her he didn't know. It felt nice to ask. Liberating even.
She nodded. "I used to spend every summer here." "Anyway, this house has always been a second home to me. I couldn't wait to get out of Hartford and come back here."
"Four cars. Looks like we're the last ones to arrive."
"Well, it's almost six o'clock. They're probably making dinner by now." She pointed at a free spot between two cars. "You can park here on the side."
He tilted his head forward to get a better look at the house. "It looks huge. Colonial, is it?"
"Yes. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms and –"
"So how come your dad didn't ask your grandma to keep the piano here?" He turned off the ignition.
"Let's say Nanny and Dad had a huge fight after she learned he'd gambled his money away."
"Am I right to assume that before your father had to sell your house, he asked your grandmother to use her house as equity to have the bank set up a line of credit?"
"It wasn't some real estate shady deal, Harvey."
He'd hit a sensitive spot. He couldn't help himself. The look on her face told him he'd gone too far. "Do you think your grandmother would still have this house today if he had gotten her to agree?"
She lowered her head. "I don't know."
"Was your dad allowed on the premises after that episode?"
"You sound like a detective. Where's this coming from?"
"Just trying to get to know a little more about you."
"You know almost everything about me."
"Not this."
"He wasn't, not until I graduated High School." The answer remained too evasive for his taste. But this wasn't some police interrogation or worse, her standing trial. He realized how the situation made everything more difficult; even asking basic questions about her life could lead to twisted facts. And there was nothing he hated more than that – especially with her. He feared questions would turn into accusations.
"And years later Nanny found it in her heart to allow Jim to be buried in her family grave."
"Be nice and behave, Harvey. She's the sweetest person in my family." Donna got out of the car.
He quickly did the same. "Still doesn't explain–"
"My dad's parents died when he was very young. I don't even know where they're buried. I don't think my mom knows either."
He walked up to the trunk and opened it. "So the only answers I'm going to get today are 'water under the bridge and old wounds heal with time'?"
She crossed her arms. "You know, not all families are as complicated as yours."
She'd bitten hard. Her posture told him she was lying though. Maybe that peaceful four-hour drive had just been that – a moment stuck in time he would have to keep close to his heart for the remainder of the day. It didn't prevent him from biting right back. "She didn't keep the piano though."
"Seriously, Harvey!" She dropped her accusatory tone on him. It tore at his guts and all he could do was get the two suitcases out of the trunk. "She couldn't. Dad had to sell it to get some cash money for the first couple of months in Hartford."
He dropped the suitcases angrily. "I'll tell you what I think happened. We both know there's money on your mother's side; your grandmother gave some to your dad for him to start his business when he married your mom."
He moved closer to her for reasons that escaped him. This wasn't about comforting her; he was towering over her, wanting to test her, her resolve and he didn't understand where all this was coming from. He felt like his dad some thirty years ago. He and Marcus were at the back of the car and his dad had been driving for hours and he'd kept pushing his mother for answers about some obscure family secret. He hated secrets: his mother's, his family's and he certainly didn't want to cover up for them anymore. Donna was his family and he knew she would be his future. Hoping he was right and dead set on not being wrong, he wanted her to share. Everything. With or without her formal approval. The push and pull couldn't end until she understood. "Your parents married young. She was probably against that marriage in the first place. But she decided to trust him and got screwed over. She couldn't trust him anymore after that, so she didn't buy the piano back from him."
"Are you done being a jerk?"
"Am I right?"
"You've always felt like my dad didn't know what he was doing."
"Because he didn't!"
"And who do you think pressured him into always trying to be better?"
"Your mother…"
"Yes, my mom!" She grabbed her suitcase handle with a firm grip. "You've always tried to keep me from being there for my father – even now that he's dead."
"I'm not… I'm–" She was right. He'd always done that. "I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I am for bringing you here right now." She moved away from him and he noticed a woman he recognized as her mother and a man he didn't know walking out of the house. So many more questions would arise over the next couple of days. Couples broke up, friendships ended and love and lives could be torn apart over less than family secrets.
"Donna!" He heard the unidentified man say as he began catching up with her.
She stopped on the front porch. "Hey, Dan."
"Hey, Reddy." The older man hugged her.
"Where's Nanny?"
"In the Kitchen with Jane."
Harvey noticed she barely said hi to her mother. "Harvey, this is my uncle Dan; my mother's brother."
Strangely, the first thing that came to his mind was how nice it felt not to be introduced as her boss anymore. But he felt his existence as anything to her somewhat compromised.
He shook the older man's hand – although, always the skeptical lawyer, he wondered why she'd introduced Dan first. He didn't think it was appropriate to question who he should have to offer his condolences to first. "Sad to meet you under such circumstances."
"My brother in law's passing was brutal for sure." As Dan didn't seem to let go of his hand, maybe in search of comfort, Harvey realized he shouldn't pull away. "But he would have wanted me to drink my mother's entire cellar in his honor; which is what I intend to do and I'm hoping you'll have a few with me."
Dan seemed like a very nice fellow. He would definitely take him up on his offer later.
The small talk had gotten Donna's attention. He immediately glanced back at her. "Knowing Donna's tastes, I believe the man knew his liquor. This makes him an even greater man in my book."
Maybe he shouldn't have said this. But Jim Paulsen's shitty business ventures didn't mean he wasn't a great father. Jim would have done anything to protect her and that – he knew – should have come up in their earlier conversation by the car. Mr. Paulsen was a family man and he would have gone so far as risking prison so that she wouldn't have to testify against him regarding Mike's case. Remembering Jim's words, it had been so simply because it would have killed her to turn on her boss. Jim probably knew his daughter's heart better than she did.
He wanted to tell her what was on his mind at the moment but he chose to suffer her scoffing at his words instead. That's what he deserved for having gone back on his words twice in the span of ten minutes.
Dan didn't seem to notice and continued. "That he did. This house is filled with women so when Holly told me you were coming, I smiled internally."
Donna had been staring at the half-opened front door. She barely turned her head to her mother and added quickly: "Mom, you remember Harvey."
"Of course! Hello Harvey. How have you been all these years?" The woman extended her hand. She sounded like a woman high on meds; probably remembering the dinner party, a time which had to do with celebrating Donna's boyfriend's birthday. Her husband's passing therefore out of her mind for a moment. Why Donna had invited her in the first place had always remained a mystery. He also remembered how she'd broken up with him a couple of days later.
"Good Holly." Donna's mother offered her hand for him to shake. He placed his palm over the back of her hand. "My condolences. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."
Harvey wasn't really paying attention to the seemingly unmoved hair-sprayed factory in front of him as Donna had gone into the house without even so much as a warning. He sighed and offered the woman resembling Donna a weak smile. Short hair, older than the last time he'd seen her. He wondered for a moment if he would ever get to see Donna at 65; and if someday she would decide to have some blond highlighting done to cover the white like her mother.
"Thank you." Holly said, dinner party gone from her eyes in an instant and directed her eyes back to Dan. "Where did I leave my glass of wine, Dan?"
"I emptied it out in the sink. You need rest, sis." Holly as if rendered suddenly aphasic, didn't flinch and entered the house. Dan gave him a look that signaled the situation was under control and took the suitcase from his hand. "Time for you to meet Jane, my wife and our most precious treasure, Nanny."
Formally invited in, Harvey stepped into the house.
V
The house was a well maintained Colonial home with at least two acres of land. Many square feet of living space too, he assumed just from the size of the living room. There was a fireplace and two long sofas with a lot of seating space facing each other; two armchairs on each side completed a perfect square. Right in between the elegant, classy and slightly formal seating arrangements were two marble coffee tables and a very large Persian rug that covered the parquet floor. The entryway was relatively small compared to the size of the living room. There was a flight of stairs right across the front door.
"The house's gorgeous." Harvey really liked the Allens' tastes.
"You see that door at the end of the hall?" Dan dropped the suitcase next to Donna's by the banister and nudged his elbow. "That's the cellar."
"Good to know." Harvey was distracted by Donna's voice coming from the right.
Opposite the living room, to his right, was the kitchen. They walked up to the four women. Donna and the woman he assumed was Nanny were sat at a whitewashed wooden table. The walls were white, like the house and the interior he'd already seen. The wood flooring was the same color as the table. Holly and Dan's wife were by the kitchen island.
"Still peeling potatoes, I see," Dan said, giving his wife a peck on the cheek.
"Well, I'm still waiting for Donna's help." Jane was a good-looking woman – probably in her 60s. She and Dan seemed like the definition of a happy couple.
Dan turned around to take a look at his sister. A surprised look settled on his face. "Did you serve her another one?"
Harvey took notice of the drink in her hand. It looked like red wine.
Holly took a sip of her drink and placed it back on the counter. "It's grape juice, Dan. Your wife is a pain in my ass."
Dan sighed in relief. But it seemed the Allens got a kick at picking on each other. "You've never been an alcoholic before; I don't see why you'd start now."
Holly held her glass up and swirled the fake wine in it. "My husband just died of a heart attack. I have a good reason to start."
Jane moved from behind the counter, leaving her utensil by the sink and wiped her hands clean on her apron. "Hi, I'm Jane." She extended her hand to him. "You must be Donna's fiancé."
He accepted her hand and narrowed his eyes. "The name's Harvey but I don't think I've proposed to her yet." He turned to Donna who had lifted her eyes from her grandmother to him.
"I assume you'll be staying with Donna, her bedroom's the one at the end of the corridor facing the stairs." Jane added, letting go of his hand. Harvey felt his blood boil, heat and panic blending into a series of looks he couldn't help but throw. Jane seemed to be sensing his panic, Holly seemed unfazed, only paying attention to the drink in her hand and then he turned to Donna. Hazelnut eyes had adjusted to their darkest state yet, irises black enough to form a piercing gaze.
"The hell he is–" Donna began, rising up from her chair but her grandmother had gently caught her hand before she could move away from the table.
"Is he your boyfriend, dear?" Harvey heard Nanny say softly, her voice feeble. At least she'd heard his answer. The woman had great hearing for her age; whatever her actual age was. She looked fit, long powder white hair tied up in a bun, an angelic smile despite the vivid contrast between her pale skin and teeth. She had wrinkles but her face didn't look timeworn. And he could tell time had discolored her freckles; Donna had very likely inherited this particular feature from her. Holly didn't have freckles, at least not on her face.
"No, Nanny he's… I guess… I mean, it's complicated." Always complicated – undefinable as usual and he hated that feeling, having to bear her confusion in depth when he was so dead-set on his feelings for her.
Nanny said eyed her granddaughter carefully. "You know there are only four bedrooms, dear."
"This feels like a romantic comedy except my daughter's the stupid heroine." Harvey turned to Holly and noticed how she had raised a brow and gulped the rest of her drink.
"What did you say to me?" Donna asked, walking up to her mother.
Harvey realized that the entire family turmoil was preventing them from addressing the sleeping arrangement issue. Not that he thought there should have been one in the first place. But then again, not an hour had gone by since their last fight.
"You called me and I told you he'd either have to sleep in the living room or with you. So I don't see where the issue is."
"Stop doing this. You're trying to get involved in something that doesn't concern you." Harvey saw her fists were clenched.
"Forty-five, childless and still tangled up in that messy relationship I see; I'm sorry darling but I'm actually over how crappy your life actually is." Holly's neutral tone had Harvey roll up his hand in a fist. He didn't know where to look or who to look at anymore.
"Holly, stop!" Jane warned.
"Cut the crap Jane, just because you and Dan couldn't have kids doesn't–"
"But this is my house, Holly," Nanny cut her daughter off. "And I have every right to tell you to mind your own business."
Nanny rose up from her chair and walked over to Donna on wobbly legs and placed a soothing hand on her back.
"Fine, it's the whole family against me… again." Before leaving the kitchen, Holly turned to Harvey and said, "Donna can't make decisions on her own, so do me a favor, will you? Make the decision for her."
Donna remained silent for a moment, staring aimlessly at the stool her mother had been sitting on. She picked up the glass and traced the red lipstick on it with her fingers before circling around the island countertop to rinse up the glass in the sink. As in a situation similar to a surrealist painting, an important death was being overshadowed by old feuds and rancor. He didn't remember Holly bearing any ill-will towards Donna. He'd seen them bicker at the dinner party but none of what he'd just seen. Was Holly's malevolence a way to forget her husband's death? Did she really think her daughter to be a failure? Her daughter was her visual artwork, so unnerving and illogical to her she had to expose her, reveal secrets in an absolute super-reality. Juxtaposing life decisions and those beyond Donna's control to elicit pathos from this small gathering of people; Holly had focused on him and her relationship with her. Donna had been the object and he the subject. Since when did he have to paint her too? She was this piece of art that bore no resemblance to anything or anyone. She was Donna and about thirty seconds after he'd met her, she'd persuaded him that rhetoric and loyalty could surpass experience.
"Jane, Dan, I need your help in the cellar," Nanny said and the two nodded. She patted Harvey on the shoulder and winked at him and mouthed something that resembled, 'we can talk later.'
Left alone with Donna, he sensed the heavy and almost clinical atmosphere overburdening him more than the leering look on her face. Harvey tried to turn up the volume again, sensing she wasn't going to be done with that glass anytime soon. "Donna, I'll just–"
She immediately placed the glass at the bottom of the sink and a loud thump echoed in the kitchen. Donna closed the distance between them, the confident strut being the artifact to that super-reality – abstract and yet devoid of movement. "You're sleeping on the sofa. End of discussion." Nothing revolutionary about that. Words didn't matter but her proximity seemed to. She irradiated him – he was torn between having the conversation she didn't want to have right here, willing to fuck it out on the table behind him. Get everything out of her system somehow. But he was petrified. He'd gotten her there too – two people had forbidden her to grieve properly and he was one of them.
"Your mother had no right," he began.
"I don't want your pity, Harvey. I've been humiliated enough for today."
Unobtrusive eyes glanced back and forth between his Adam's apple and the floor; like an inconspicuous stain on a cloth, or that lipstick on her mother's glass, Donna's body language exuded insecurity.
Terrified of his idiocy, horrified that he pitied her, disenchanted by his inability to respond with proper words – all this because she didn't want to confide in him, he grabbed her face and kissed her, covering her lips with everything he had. Strong, possessive and yet gentle, he felt her respond – he closed his eyes. Certain she was going against her will, he felt her bite his lower lip in a sensual tease, as if trying to grant him more and refusing him all the same. It took her about five seconds to reject him. His eyes darted open and she wiped her mouth clean. Hurt. His heart shrunk, committing slow suicide. He felt like a monstrosity, abandoned before being given the chance to explain itself and show the beauty that was on the inside.
"No!" She pointed at the floor with her index finger. "You have no right… Why aren't you fighting me on this?" This meant nothing and everything at once.
He needed her to focus. "Do you want to be with me Donna, yes or no?"
"That's not the point."
"It is the point. One moment you're all over me like I'm the only one that matters to you and the next, you hurt my feelings and my pride by wiping your mouth as if I'd kissed someone else's lips before you."
"I didn't mean it like that, I–"
"You hurt me!" The wounded look in his eyes had an effect on her; she had heaved a constricted breath. "I disagree with everything your mother said but she's right about one thing. Make a decision about us."
And then the newfound apology was gone. "Stay out of my relationship with my mother," she warned him.
"Did you stay out of mine, Donna?" Latency set in as he gauged her reaction: she was averting her eyes and licking her lips stressfully. "You forced me to confront my issues. And you were right to." The redhead was looking at him again. Dialectic seemed to be the only method he could use to get her attention; he was a lawyer after all. "And one of your issues right now is with me getting close to you, kissing you, showing you how much I want you."
"This is not simple," she gulped. "I have to…" She pursed her lips, probably biting the inside of her mouth as if she were about to cry, "… deal with what happened to my dad."
He envisioned her lips differently now. They weren't marked by his anymore; bite marks from the previous night gone and yet forever stained by a decade old history. "You don't want me to comfort you, Donna."
"I need you to." Absurd, inconsistent with her previous sentences and predictable through and through. Like a creature in its death throes, he could feel her eyes thudding in agony.
"Then tell me how," he took her hands in his.
"I'm not ready, Harvey." Had he been a tipster, he would have bet that tear would form in her eye eventually. Predictions necessitated actions and the last two days were tinged with sadness because they were over. Ghosts of their former selves – a couple excited about dating. It had taken too long. Thirteen goddamn years. Blue lips over blue ones, discolored and never undone. Donna never came with a noose; she'd never lured him to her. It was her soul tied to that rope and she was right at the end of it. And there he stood, somehow anchored to her, firmly grounded, and trying to have her climb down. What a foolish endeavor it had been to want her back in his arms with a kiss.
"No one's ever ready, Donna. Sometimes you just have to trust whatever it is that someone brings to you." There, he knew it. He selfishly hoped she would find solace in his need for her. But he couldn't tell her that because it made him surreal as well.
The feeble voice of before had penetrated his ears. Donna's too as he noticed her observing the scene unfolding behind him. "Jane thinks we could have dinner outside tonight. Dan opened the outside door onto the cellar. What do you think Donna?"
"I think it's a good idea," she gulped, watching him from the corner of her eyes. "I'll go unpack my things. If you'll excuse me."
He tilted his head to the side as she brushed past him. "Do you need my help setting the table?"
"Sure, I'm the designated cook tonight anyway. I need to delegate. Hopefully Holly will feel better shortly and come and help me," Jane explained, returning to her previous spot in behind the island countertop.
"Why aren't you going after her?" Nanny's fragile nudge got his attention. She looked cute.
"She doesn't want to see me right now," he offered her a small smile.
"Sir, I can tell by the look in your eyes that she's very important to you. I know you'll do what's right."
There was something so old-fashioned about her calling him sir. He felt like a lawyer in the fifties secretly screwing his secretary. Except she wasn't his secretary anymore, he wasn't screwing her and they definitely weren't a secret anymore. "I don't know that I can, Mrs. Allen. And call me Harvey, please."
"Harvey," she almost sounded like Donna for a moment. "You could be a total stranger, her friend, her boyfriend, her fiancé or her husband that it wouldn't matter. My granddaughter doesn't get scared easily. And yet she's terrified of identifying you. This tells me all I need to know."
"Jim's death isn't helping our relationship."
"I believe you're wrong Mr. Specter."
"So you do know my last name." He wasn't so much surprised as he was confused.
The old lady grinned. "She's told me about you before, you know?"
"But I heard you ask whether I was her boyfriend or not."
"Because I know she used to work for you. Why would her former boss drive her to her father's funeral?"
"Nanny, stop bothering him and come help me, will you?" Jane asked, closing a cupboard.
She sighed. "Hard to believe but my daughter in law can be even more of a pain than my own daughter."
"I heard that," Jane said, peeling another potato. "If you don't come and help me right now, I'll tell him your real age."
"I'm Nanny and I'll forever be 38."
Jane grumbled. "And next year, she'll say she'll forever be 48. Every year she does that and I remember when she couldn't wait to be 80 just to say she was 8."
He smiled at Jane and Nanny. The latter shrugged. "Your age doesn't think for you."
"Unless you become senile," Jane seemed to enjoy teasing her mother in law. "Oh, Harvey, Dan's in the cellar on wine duty by the way. He thought you might want to join him."
"I'll join him in a minute. Which sofa can I sleep on tonight?" Harvey asked and noticed Holly suddenly walking past him.
"The one by the foyer. I placed a pillow and a blanket on it for you." Did she know her daughter well enough to know he wouldn't be able to change her mind? Her mother's knowledge and feelings were practically thin-skinned and resembled Donna's skills. She knew people too. Out of the two Allen women, Donna had taken her wit and kindness after her grandmother; her omniscient-like personality and vulnerability seemed to have come from her mother. And in that sum, Jim must have been the equals sign; the man who'd tried protecting them all. Just like Donna Roberta Paulsen, fervent and loyal protector of just as equally loyal boss, Harvey Reginald Specter esquire. But it came with a price; she was her greatest guardian – an inaccessible piece of machinery resolute in using its serrated cogs as impassable hurdles. Her kisses bit. Her kisses hurt.
Holly moved next to Jane, less haphazardly than she had before and opened the oven. Tension and alcohol seemed positively on the wane. "Would you mind it if we eat that roast chicken cold, Mom?"
"For Jim, I'll agree to feeling nauseated." Nanny shrugged. "Do you like cold roast chicken, Harvey?"
"I do, Mrs. Allen." He started retreating from the kitchen. These Allen-Paulsen women sure knew how to keep a man around but even now and then he needed a break from such women. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." Lying wasn't one of his strongest suits.
He had called Robert in the morning telling him Donna would at least need a week off. Robert told Harvey that even if the firm was at stake, he wouldn't call. Harvey didn't feel reassured but accepted his senior's proposition nevertheless.
He went to the living room and put his suitcase against the sofa. He sat on the cream-colored piece of furniture and closed his eyes as he relaxed against the firm and yet comfortable cushions. He heard footsteps coming from upstairs and then thumping sounds he associated with Donna. He walked to the entryway again and saw her treading down the last flight of stairs.
"Hey, I'm going to the cellar." He blocked her way for a moment.
"I'm heading to the kitchen." She nodded aimlessly.
"I'll see you later?" He couldn't believe how weak he sounded. His implicit question hadn't helped.
"Dinner should be ready soon." She moved around him and joined her female counterparts in the kitchen.
V
Dinner took place outside as requested by Nanny Allen whose actual name he'd learned was Sophia. He'd helped pick the wine and had brought Nanny's special chair outside and made sure it was safely grounded and stable in the grass.
He'd lost count of how many times they'd made toasts in Jim's honor. Some of he and Holly's friends and business partners from Hartford would be here; old friends from Cortland too and one of Donna's high school friends.
Donna had barely touched her potato; at least some of the chicken and salad were gone. She usually had a good appetite.
He'd made it a point to seat across from her, leaving her some much needed space.
"You didn't eat anything last night and I don't know if you ate anything for lunch," he said, tentatively.
She sighed, dropping her fork. "Why did I have to pick you as my boss again?"
"I chose you."
"Not at first you didn't." Unexpectedly, her tone and eyes suddenly became more playful.
"Double negatives make your comment null and void." He tried to joke but noticed she'd had enough of his sarcastic replies. Dangerously teasing territory wasn't fun to her anymore.
"I'm going to bed." He watched her swiftly rise from her chair and wanted nothing but to go after her. But he couldn't risk her making a whole scene about it.
Her mother spoke up. "The service starts at 11."
"I know."
"Then why are you leaving so early?" It was indeed early; not even close to 9:30pm.
"I don't need another lecture from you, Mom. I'm tolerating you at best right now so please don't make it worse."
"If you have something on your mind say it."
"You haven't said a bad word to me in thirty years and now that Dad's gone you're lashing out at me?"
This was turning into a roman-à-clef, a fighting scene involving two people within another scene centered on loss and mourning – with the rest of the family witnessing everything as silent observers.
"You used to pressure him all the time and now, I realize what he's had to put up with. Even more so than before. That stress and those business deals killed him."
"You don't know what it was like. He felt like a lesser man because of his work. I had to push him."
"You gave him that heart attack, Mom!" Donna spat out.
"Let's not say such terrible things, dear," Nanny interjected.
"Do you even listen to yourself? He was diagnosed with a heart condition, Donna." Holly sounded out of breath. She gulped and added, "Don't put the blame on me!"
"You didn't love him enough to let him make his own decisions and you dare tell me to make mine?" Donna's analogies startled him a little. He was used to them but on such a personal level? He didn't think he'd ever heard her talk about her family so much before. Her anger wasn't masked by a pretense that all was well. Every little secret could come out and he wasn't sure he wanted to be privy to them anymore.
"Who'll have some dessert?" Jane suggested but none of it reached Donna and Holly's ears.
"I loved him enough to let him be the man he wanted to be. I know I wasn't perfect but our marriage was. Can you say that about your own life?"
He could tell Donna was holding back even more tears than before now. "Why the kids issue again? Dan and Jane couldn't have kids. Maybe I can't either. So why today of all days?"
This wasn't what she wanted to talk about, was it? Things he hadn't thought of before started to make sense to him.
"I had drunk a few, Donna." He wondered if Holly's shame was what made her sound so apologetic.
"That's no excuse, Mom and you know it." Donna exhaled loudly for everyone to hear before continuing. "So tell me, once and for all why it bothers you so much that I'm 'childless' as you say. I mean you could criticize me being just a secretary, but I'm COO of my firm now. I made a name for myself. Children were never my priority and you know it."
"Because your priority's always been him!" Holly was pointing at him, accusatorily. Degrees of responsibilities heated up scraps of memories. From them walking side by side, to discussing mergers like battle plans, their power couple on the outside had everything. But if someone had dared looked in, they would have seen two separate apartments and two empty lives. All of it started to twist his guts, scratch up his bones and grip his organs.
He couldn't care less about Holly's opinion of him. Nevertheless, the words "emotionally, unavailable, driven by money, women, unloved" had come up. He'd missed out on most of what she'd said anyway so he stared at Donna instead and he realized she was staring right back at him. As if in a twisted turn of events, he was prioritizing again.
"Your father and I used to talk about you having kids all the time, wondering when it would eventually happen for you. When he'd get to play with his grandchildren. I know it's stupid and selfish but as you get older, you want that unconditional love again."
"I didn't know that." Donna looked so disheartened it broke him inside again. She thought about giving her dad access to her 401k once so opening up to the idea of having children was an even smaller feat. Maybe she had. Who knew? She would have given her dad the world.
"But why did you have to bring Harvey into this?" She crossed her arms protectively – the confusing kind of protectiveness.
"Oh come on, Donna, it only took me one awful dinner party to understand how you felt about him. I just wonder what took him so long. Maybe –" Holly explained but this had to stop, he rose up from his chair and cut her off instantly.
"If I hear either one of you mention me again, I'm out of this house. None of you get to talk about my feelings for me. Are we clear on that?" Harvey noticed Dan and Jane nodding at him. He had almost completely forgotten they were here.
"I was going to say," she paused and turned to Donna, emphasizing on the first couple of words, 'Maybe you're so unavailable emotionally that he couldn't figure you out and be sure of your feelings."
"Jeez," he huffed. This was still too close to him but his earlier resolution and resolve to leave this house were gone with just one look from her.
This wouldn't end. And there were no reason for Donna to not answer her mother's grievances. "And who do you think is the queen of unavailability, huh? You never were a mother to me. Dad thought you were a good wife though, I'll give you that."
"Your dad wore his heart on his sleeve. I chose to sacrifice that in order to make it work. Do you think Nanny approved of us being together at 18? I had to fight for us."
This sounded almost too familiar to Harvey. He knew children repeated their parents' mistakes but the extent of Donna's sacrifice to make their friendship and working relationship work all these years was an unknown. He'd always known he wasn't the one who'd sacrificed everything. On little issues yes, but that was it.
Sophia 'Nanny' Allen rose up from her chair and thumped her fist on the table. "Enough!"
"So now you want to get into it," Holly huffed.
"I hope to God Jim can't hear you right now." Nanny let out.
"Cut the crap, Mom, you hated him for years."
"And I hated you too if you remember. Now Donna, are you sure you don't want some dessert?"
She walked up to her grandmother and kissed her temple. "No, thank you. I think I had enough of everything tonight." She added before turning to leave, "Night everyone."
He searched her face, wishing for an invitation but nothing came. She was hurting for reasons that went beyond the confrontation with her mother. Her mother wasn't ill-intentioned. But she'd transferred her need to take care of Jim onto Donna. It was too much to bear.
"Harvey, 'want to grab a drink before you get to sleep on our wonderful sofa?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind actually." Harvey followed Dan and heard someone whimper behind him. He saw Jane and Nanny gathering around Holly. They were soothing her cries and she wasn't driving them away. Sometimes people dealt with loss healthily and sometimes they did so in the worst of ways.
"Don't worry about it, Harvey," Dan said, opening the exterior cellar door. "You and I will be the last ones up. Do you like doing the dishes?"
"You mean using that state-of-the-art dishwasher you have?"
"Right," Dan offered him a sheepish smile.
"Sure but let's have that drink first." He patted him on the back.
"You know I don't say much but he was a brother to me."
"The women in your family…" Harvey sympathized.
"Even Jane somehow got involved. I don't like limitations being put on my gender though!" Dan smiled.
Harvey smiled back at him. Maybe there was a bit of Donna in Dan too.
V
Sleeping on a surface other than a bed for two nights in a row was the least comfortable thing there was. His back hurt and he couldn't find a proper position to sleep. Those were merely the symptoms of a broken heart some would say. She was upstairs, in her old teenager's bedroom while he was down here, feeling miles away from her at least emotionally. It was close to midnight and he knew the moment he had laid his ass on that sofa that he would walk up those stairs and walk right into her bedroom without warning. He hadn't thought about how long it would take for him to actually make the decision. He simply hoped she wasn't asleep. Either way, he'd wake her up.
He climbed the stairs and knocked; initial plan gone and his balls with it. Nothing. He knocked a second time, hoping he wouldn't wake up anyone in the process. Still no answer. He turned the door knob – at least she hadn't locked the door. He got in and noticed her staring, stretched out on a banquet like sill by the opened window, glass of something resembling alcohol in her hand and smoke coming out of her nostrils.
This was your typical teenager's bedroom; a testament to a continuous ending and a eulogy about who she was. He recognized two iconic posters even though the left part of her room and its corners were darker than the window side. One of them was a U2 poster and he figured a 1980-something Madonna was staring at him from above her bed. He could make out the forms of various trinkets on the bedside table – one of them was definitely a piggy bank. He noticed a Lacrosse stick hung on her left wall.
He walked up to her and took the drink from her hand. At least she hadn't rejected him yet. She was wearing a tank top and little sleeping shorts. Her hair was probably a wanted mess. She'd ran her fingers through it, manipulating locks to sexy dishevelment, the well-lit night sky offering him a glorious view of her legs – slightly bent and pressed up against her chest – while the colder air was granting him the opportunity to let his imagination trail over her breasts and hard nipples. "Scotch?"
"I grabbed a bottle from the cellar earlier. Glen Garioch, 15 year old. My dad's favorite." She took another puff as he took a mouthful of the amber liquid. "It's good scotch."
"I thought you'd comment on the joint." She offered it to him.
"Where did you get it?" He accepted it, taking this opportunity to brush his fingers against hers.
"Jane had cancer when I was 18," she exhaled the smoke. "She still buys Marijuana from time to time and thought I could use some. Haven't had one in years though."
"Is cancer the reason why she never had children?"
She nodded. "Stomach cancer. The radiation treatment damaged her ovaries."
"That's terrible." He took a long drag and paid attention to Donna's craftsmanship. She'd rolled and honed that joint to perfection. He was impressed.
She took the glass back from his hand and gulped what was left. "I should go to bed."
"You should," he took one last puff and gave it back to her.
He moved to her ridiculously small bed and lay down on it casually.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"Getting ready for bed," he patted the empty space beside him.
"I'm not sleeping with you."
"Well, you let me know whenever you get tired of that window."
Seconds. One minute or two maybe. She was staring out the window, blueish night sky projecting light onto her freckled skin. He kept glancing back and forth between her blank face and her chest, falling and rising evenly.
The room was hotter than he'd thought at first. Maybe he was reacting to her; she was practically naked after all and definitely unconcerned with his presence. It was bound to heat things up within him, basic instincts taking over the thinking man. He removed his t-shirt. Maybe he'd get her attention that way. Wrong; she hadn't even taken a glimpse.
"Are you still mad at me?" He broke the silence, having to ask.
"Yes." The conversation included him but the window was still her only source of focus.
"What can I do to change that?" She was an ice queen melting his heart.
"You could start by apologizing." She took a drag, the crackling sound filled up the room. The fiery color of combustion felt like an all too appropriate metaphor for his state. He was hot – not just from the heat – but because of her.
"I apologize."
"Thank you."
"What am I apologizing for again?"
This had the effect of making her look at him again. She scratched her temple with the hand that held the joint. "Nothing." She stubbed out the joint in the ashtray she'd placed on the window sill. Her head fell back against the wall.
"Do you know why I didn't say anything about that old boyfriend of yours at that awful dinner party eight years ago?"
"I feel like you're about to tell me."
"Because I didn't want you to see how selfish I was, how jealous I felt and how much I wanted you."
"I know you, Harvey. I know you desire what you can't have."
"And you made it clear I couldn't have you."
"And you made it perfectly clear I couldn't get everything from you. You made me choose."
"You made that choice yourself. I hadn't even come up to that."
"You knew the rule."
"You'd broken it."
"Would you have wanted to be in a relationship with me at the time?"
"I've always wanted to be in a relationship with you."
"That's not a good answer, Harvey."
"What's the right answer then?" He rose up from the bed. "Cause I can't think of any, can you?"
He was moving dangerously close to her, like a hunter assessing its prey, calming it down and trying to prevent it from clearing out.
"Thirteen years. I've known you thirteen years and you still know more about me than I do about you. I'm bound to make mistakes. But I need you to share things with me."
"I've shared plenty." He was by her side then. Beloved Donna was stuck between him and that opened window. Two precipices and one of them was him. She'd either let herself fall against him or take another route. The other metaphorical way out didn't feel healthy at all though.
He knew she knew he was undressing her with his eyes, his breath pattern the clearest of indications.
"Kiss me." Tingles ran up and down his neck and in his arms when he said it.
"We've already done that." She sounded like she was gasping for air.
He lowered his face, lips close to hers. "Kiss me like you're not sure I'm going to leave you."
Her eyes welled up and he tried soothing her by kissing her cheek, eventually levelling his lips to her ear and said. "Keep those tears for your dad. You and I don't need them."
He then trailed a few kisses to her neck, caught the chain of her pendant against his lips and felt her press her cheek against his temple. Her breathing told him she wanted to fight her fears but couldn't. "Is this okay?"
He felt her nod in agreement and a tear got stuck in between their faces. His heartbeat accelerated like an upbeat song reaching the end of its outro, synchronizing with her what he could only describe as threatened breathing.
She placed his left hand under her top, guiding him to her breasts. He groaned against her temple at the invitation. From the way her abdomen tensed up, he could tell fear clawed through her chest. He stroked the valley between them in a gentle back and forth movement. He groped the outer edges, thumb stroking her nipple. She gently moaned against his face which had the effect of increasing his effort. Fondling along the smooth sides of each breast, he set his palm firmly against her ribcage as he traced the sensitive curves and kneaded one of them from base to tip, the contact of her hardened nipple transferring signals of stiffness straight to his sex.
She plastered herself back against the ledge further and he felt her heart thunder in her chest. He removed his hand from her upper-body and settled on her left hip. He kissed her cheek once more before taking a moment to catch his breath and focused his gaze on her legs. He was afraid looking at her would bring a feeling of humiliation. As long as he was buried in her neck, the situation couldn't look real. It was a dream, a fantasy at best and a need to ease things up between the two of them. He ran his hand on her thigh, caressing it. His focus unhampered by the distracting way her hand stroked his penis through his tracksuit. He felt himself grow harder against her. She was too hot-tempered to be rejected; one wrong move, one mistake and it could all be over in a matter of seconds.
He moaned at her touch and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of an invisible stare on him. Because despite all fears, she was right there with him. And it's all he wanted. He rubbed her knee slowly before suddenly cradling it in his hand. She gasped at the sudden change in position. Glad the window sill was high enough that she was lying just a little above his waist line, he bent his head to kiss her thigh, skin so warm and soft against his lips. The cool air controlled their perspiration somehow. He stopped moving, longing for the feeling of his heart burning open wide, until nothing else remained but dried sweat on their skin. He glided his fingertips along her inner thigh and in the direction of her shorts. He used the crook of his elbow to support her, giving her thigh a 90° angle as the rest of her limb fell limp on the other side.
He couldn't let her know how much he enjoyed watching her crane forward. Selfishly from the corner of his eye, he drank the blue night light reverberating off her before he slipped his steady hand up her shorts; making his determination known to her. She tensed up and arched her back almost immediately when he grazed his fingertips against her center. He placed his hand under her ass, the back of his forearm pulling the cotton cage away from her entrance, leaving room for him to thumb her slit in an up and down motion.
It wasn't hard for her to pull him out of his loose-fitting outfit. He couldn't help himself. He switched his eyes from her shorts to where she'd placed her palms. The ventral view of his penis brushing up against the banquet ever so slightly, with her hand getting closer to his pleasure center, was the most erotic way to engage in carnal knowledge. Had he been dreaming this, he was sure he would have had a spontaneous ejaculation. She was just too much and he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest bastard there was.
Nails and fingers grazed over his waist, stopping at the line between soft skin and hair. He gulped. He took in the sight of her, as if he could discover her anew each time, thumb still stroking her slit, dipping just enough to assess how slick she was. She was staring at his face, lips parted slightly and head still resting against the wall behind the sill. Her lungs worked hard but he could tell from the way her right hand almost choked the blood flow from his forearm that she wasn't feeling relaxed enough. And this was making it hard for his muscles to perform flexion.
This would become uncomfortable for her with dry fingers and she wasn't going to work with him to get around it. He couldn't tolerate pain. He just didn't want it no matter how pleasurable it could become.
He removed his hand from her shorts and let go of her leg. He sucked on all three fingers at once and let saliva drip on them. He brushed the tip of his thumb against them, moved his hand to the waistband of her short and slipped it back into them. He felt it was his cue to make her understand that this was for her. He adjusted his hand and slipped a finger inside of her. She gripped his cock as if seeking support. Going around in slow circles first, he then varied his movements and speed, thrusting up and down at a faster pace. He felt her muscles clench against him and watched her spread her legs wider; out of full view but more than within his reach. She had as much power over him as he had over her. He felt there was this unhurried mercy about them.
He stopped her from stroking him but held her hand in place. The pressure of her fingers and palm fisting part of his length and head could easily send him over the edge. He wasn't the torturer but a prisoner; his own fire conditioned by hers. Her touch wasn't delicate but his wasn't either. He had to slowly work his way back to her. Therefore he hoped, for a moment, that he would be enough to wash this fucked up world for her. Have her give up, have her focus on her own release. He inserted another finger inside of her and thumbed her clit in a slow tantalizing motion. This had the effect of her losing her grip on him. He felt her grope for his ass cheek, kneading it firmly first. But his purpose was clearer than it had ever been so he held on this sleight of hand until she let go of him completely and gripped the ledge of the banquet. The experience took on a whole other level when she began thrusting her pelvis forward and attempted fucking his fingers.
"Harvey," she moaned between inhuman upward and backward thrusts. Limitless pushes generated by the single power of desire; the need to come undone. Pulling him in as well, trapping him in her tightened walls, he felt his overall control slacken. She was a goddess, showing off years of yoga, with abdominal strength and developed glute muscles. She'd told him those heels she wore would have killed her back years ago hadn't she been working out. Her signature strut had him silently crying for mercy on so many occasions.
He lowered his head to the crook of her neck and kissed it before sucking on it, careful not to apply too much suction and leave a hickey. The pendant seemed gone from her mind.
He heard something being inadvertently knocked over the edge of the window. He tilted his head back and noticed the ashtray was gone and she was gripping that edge. He grinned, bringing his face to hers again.
"Kiss me now." He inched closer to her.
Her eyes were searching his making his heart and groin pulsate in anticipation. She lowered her eyes, focusing on his lips. He felt an inch of shared air between their mouths. She seemed to be resisting the temptation to heave strongly as she hauled herself forward. He saw her close her eyes and felt her parted lips engulf his. He grabbed her body, placing his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer. He felt her limp against him with nothing but desire coming from her mouth and barely audible moans. She wasn't urging him to give her that pleasure, muffling her inner battles and letting herself go instead. Thrusts weren't met anymore. He had full control. She seemed to barely have any strength at all; she didn't dart her tongue inside his mouth and she didn't bite. She wasn't hurting but hanging on this moment, tugging at his lips in a formidable fashion, pulling, sucking, pecking and seeking bottom and lower lip and their junctions. It took him all he had not to penetrate the inside of her mouth with his tongue. She heaved faster against his mouth. She'd grabbed his face by then, seating almost upright on that banquet. How he was able to keep stroking her, he didn't know.
"Please."
And then it clicked, he felt himself vulnerable, privy to her orgasm in a way he hadn't been able to before. Maybe he'd just forgotten. He heard her moan a startling and discreet fuck against his mouth. She shone her light on him, sharing that heart-stopping sensation, watching her eyes open wide as that last breath got stuck in her throat, feeling how she'd secured all that energy against his digits to prevent the ultimate involuntary contraction was exactly how he wanted this. He was acutely aware of the deadening weight her orgasm would bring upon her. The initial outburst and the beauty of her euphoria waning, he felt his comprehension limited. She seemed tied to the next world, eyes fluttering open and then shut as if experiencing lingering threads tying pieces of her life together. Differently. Re-writing some of it for a moment, he hoped. Her dad could be far from her mind. No family feud. No one but her; with him by her side.
"Donna." He was out of breath and kissed her temple as he eased his fingers out of her.
A part of his soul had left him, probably gone to hers. He felt her caress the back of his sweaty neck. She looked sated. The skin on his back hurt, likely wrecked by her nails since she'd dug deeper as soon as the earth-shattering feeling took over her. He couldn't blame her for being desperate for it to stop and continue forever. She'd consented to that kiss but her nails were part of an expected and welcomed blowback.
He turned away from her and pulled his pants back up. She must have noticed his upper back for she started kissing his shoulder. Using her fingertips to soothe the scratched and tender region, she said: "I'm sorry about that."
"I'm fine."
He felt her hands descend lower to the erection he'd tried to cover up again. She groped him and asked: "Harvey, you didn't… I'm–"
He turned around again and cupped her cheek. "I'm more than okay, really. It's already going down on its own."
"But–"
"I'm not leaving." He tucked a lock of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "We got all the time in the world."
He kissed her cheek and went to pick up his shirt on the bed.
"Aren't you staying?" She sounded confused.
He moved to the door and gave her a wink. "Sofa's fine. End of discussion."
DGITTF
DGITTF
That was chapter 5! Lots of content! Please review this if you liked it! I live for those as usual. You know what? I don't care, I command you guys to! :P
I'd like to thank my online BFF Alternateshadesofblue for her constant support, impeccable timing and serious fangirling over my fics. I don't know what she finds in them, especially my sex scenes. They're so dull, repetitive and boring sometimes.
I'd like to also thank all those who reviewed on for this fic and Too Many Times (and others) cause this is where we need you to tell us what you think. I've said this a lot on Twitter but FF writers enjoy keeping track of people's criticisms and thoughts on chapters. Twitter's great and we love the likes and retweets but this is where we need you to review, so please go review all your favorite writers, those you haven't read yet and think should keep writing. :)
Till next chapter (coming up soon),
BG xx