LOVE HEARTS AND LIES

The Harper impact

I open my eyes, sweaty and breathless. I sit up in my bed, my sheets and body soaked. It wasn’t a good idea to come back here. My old demons keep reappearing one after the other.

The sun has not yet risen. Indeed, the alarm clock on my bedside table shows only six o’clock.

Yesterday, the atmosphere at dinner was ice cold. My father glanced at me a few times while my mother did her best to make pleasant chit chat, trying to break some of the tension. I felt guilty, like a five-year-old just caught in a lie—when really, I’m a young woman with things just taking off in her life. Shouldn’t my parents be happy for me? Why does my father still reproach me? We were once so close. His beloved daughters. All he inspires in me now is the certainty that he must love Sara more than he does me.

I get out of bed and put on shorts to go down to the kitchen. I don’t even know how to occupy myself today. My feet caress the cool parquet floor; I have always cherished this little sensation. I run to the bathroom to splash water on my face. In the mirror, I see how wild my hair has become since being back here. It’s nice not to have to comb it. I don’t have classes or a job to go to so who cares?

I emerge into the silent corridor where our dog is waiting for me. I walk down the stairs with her, remembering to avoid every step that squeaks to not wake up my parents. It’s sunrise and the low sun is illuminating the landscape with deep, golden tones. I had forgotten how beautiful it is here.

Splash wags her tail to go out: I open the door and let her rush ahead. We found her a few summers before I left. She was drowning in the river, but Sara dived in to save her. So, we named her Splash. I admit it’s not that clever, but it suits her well enough.

I venture into the kitchen where the rustic smell of fresh coffee lingers. Mom got up just to turn on the pot so that it would be ready as soon as my father gets up. It annoys me to see her rise at dawn to prepare it. My father is a veterinarian, mostly house calls. My mother is a nurse. My parents are not rich, but I can’t pretend we didn’t have an easy life. Mom could have become a great doctor, but she interrupted her studies. All this for her new husband... I could never put my career aside.

A cup of caffeine steaming in my hand, I move onto the porch that wraps around the house and settle myself on the swing. Splash approaches and presses herself against me. I lift her to sit on my lap. She sniffs me intently, suddenly staring at me, a strange look on her face.

“You thought I was Sara, didn’t you? Looks like you’ll have to settle for me, girl.”

She pushes my hand with her snout for me to pet her. I obey automatically while staring at the horizon. Each swallow of coffee I take brings a little more life back into me. Chirps from birds performing summer melodies fill the morning air and, from the looks of things, I predict a fine day again.

The screen door to the kitchen squeaks open. I turn my head, meeting the two green eyes so like mine. The unexpected eye contact is awkward and embarrassment settles between us. I give a shake of my head. He annoys me! When he goes down the steps of the house, I rush to intercept him.

“I refuse to live like this for the rest of my stay here!” I yell.

His back to me, he stops and passes his hand over the nape of his neck. I hope he’ll turn to tell me something, but he shakes his head slightly.

“A mare is giving birth. I have to hurry.”

I watch him climb behind the wheel of his truck. My heart cracks as the engine rumbles life and the dust flies as he makes his way down the long dirt path. I stand there feeling like a sad little girl, desperate for her father’s love.

Something cold and wet tickles my calf. I look down at Splash who seems to sense my bitterness.

“Does he avoid you, too, my fat girl?”

I smile, deciding that a short jog will surely calm my nerves. I return to get my superb Converse, oh so ridiculous, and tie my hair roughly. Fighting with my breasts, I put on a sports bra.

When I come downstairs, a sing-song voice greets me.

“You’re already awake, Hun?”

“Yes, Mom, I haven’t been able to sleep-in for a long time. I’ll run a little.”

“Be careful. Did you bring your phone just in case? Aren’t you afraid of getting a chill?”

I place my hands on her shoulders to calm her down.

“Mom, I’m not going far and it’s summer. I use my phone as an MP3 player, so everything will be fine, okay?”

Her smile puts a little balm in my heart, just where my father damaged it. I hold her in my arms and kiss her cheek.

“Thank you for being you, Mom.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Harper.”

I recognize the fear in her eyes. She’s afraid of losing her last child, but I’m not made of sugar glass.

I go down the terrace steps, calling Splash. It will do her good to run around a little.

I put on my glasses and take off. Every stride relaxes me, each breath out calms me. My thighs wake up in pain, but I go on trying to empty my head. The scent that rises from the morning dew lulls me into a peaceful state of mind. I don’t know how far I’ve travelled, but Splash’s protests prove to me that it might be time to head back soon. I stop close to a stretch of water and settle on the grass to stretch myself. My hairball dog collapses against me, exhausted. I giggle and stroke her panting face.

I check my phone and see that I’ve travelled for four kilometres. Wow! I suddenly realize, I hadn’t been considering the return trip—I was used to treadmills and gyms. I give my companion time to recover her strength and take the opportunity to call my best friend Melony.

“Hm... hell, do you know what time it is?”

“So nice to hear you too,” I said, the sarcasm heavy in my voice.

“It’s summer break, Harper. Normal people sleep in!”

“Well, you’re up now.”

I hear the rustle of her sheets, then the coffee machine getting started.

“So, you want to talk about why you’re back? I’m a bit surprised, to be honest.”

“My mom mainly.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s been avoiding me like I have the plague. I tried talking to him this morning, but he had to go to work.”

“It’ll get better. And if not, there are plenty of distractions—you’re the prettiest girl in town now.”

I laugh.

“Yeah, right. There’s nowhere interesting to go around here. And besides, I’m not here for that.”

“You should come out with me. You don’t want to start growing cobwebs do you?”

We laugh in unison. I lie down to stare at the branches of the trees swaying in the light breeze.

“You should see my room... It’s like she’s still here.”

There was a pause.

“You should try to focus on something else. Like coming out with me! That’s probably what Sara would be doing,” she teases.

I shake my head playing with a loop of hair that has escaped from my elastic.

“Sara wasn’t like that, I already told you.”

“You left. Sara grew up. A few emails here and there wasn’t enough to help you know who she had become.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine her changing. She was a good girl. She always did what was expected of her and kept out of trouble. She never went out looking to mess around with boys like you and me. She would always talk about how she was waiting for her prince charming.”

“Like all of us! Except that I need to try on several pairs of shoes to find the best fit.”

“Slut!” I laugh.

“Proud of it!”

“I miss you, Mel.”

“I miss you too, my wild child. Now I must go back to sleep. Talk to you later sexy.”

I let out a little chuckle before hanging up. I release a long breath and realize that this call did me more good than jogging. Deciding I should probably head back, I get up, dust the dirt off my buttocks, replace my phone into my jogging armband and return my Onkyo wireless earbuds to my ears. When I reach a fork in the road, an old pickup passes me. The driver, a dark-haired man with black eyes, rather handsome, looks at me for a few seconds and then double-takes.

His eyes, a little too insistent, chill my blood. I accelerate and head back to the house.

Splash darts to her water bowl and I throw my face under the kitchen faucet to hydrate my dry throat. I’m out of breath, but relaxed.

“So?”

Not having seen my mother walk in, I jump, a hand on my chest, on the verge of a heart attack.

“Someone’s jumpy.”

“Mom, I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re all red. You must’ve been running hard out there.”

I smile and stroll by swinging my hips.

“If I want to keep my body in shape, it’s necessary, especially with your home cooking.”

“You look in great shape, Harper. Eat a bit... here.”

I grab the pancakes she prepared for me and sat down at the table. The soft sweet bite practically melts in my mouth. I swallow a sip of freshly squeezed orange juice and look up at her.

“Mom, do you know why there’s an oxygen bottle in our room? Was Sara sick?”

A veil of sadness passes before her eyes, and I immediately regret speaking about her, but I need to know.

“That’s helium. Sara would write little notes on cards containing her email address and then send them into the air. She believed that destiny would send a man into her life.”

A sweet smile creeps onto her face.

“Sara and her dreams,” I sigh.

“That said, she talked with a lot of people. Many answered her.”

I finish my plate and got up to go soothe my muscles under the shower. Back in my room, I stare at the gas bottle, hands on my hips. She received answers to her balloons! She talked with random people she didn’t know... I sit at her desk and pull up her mailbox. Password. s**t. I type the first thing that comes to mind.

“Balloons” It’s not that.

“Splash” Another no.

Hmmm. My eyes scan the screen filled with pictures and post-its. I try other suggestions: Suki, Hugh, Harper, Raven... nothing. Chin on hand, I shake my head and smile. I notice that she scrawled a lot on her desk. I push some papers out of the way and read ”I love Harper" scribbled in ballpoint pen. My index finger traces the outlines. She still loved me, despite everything, even if we didn’t tell each other anymore. My heart feels heavy in my chest.

Maybe...

I try it and amazingly it works. I dive in, digging through her email, skimming each of them. Nothing exciting. Just people telling her how far her balloon had gone. Even if the content isn’t fascinating, the number of contacts is impressive! A woman from Cheyenne even sent her mail. When I close the window, I find a folder named Harper’s Birthday. I double-click on it and discover different pictures and videos.

“What’s this?” I ask myself aloud.

I select a video longer than the others, edited and titled with my name. Shots of us during childhood and adolescence... tears escape my eyes. Seeing how close we used to be intensified the void I feel. It crushes me. I miss her so much.

Then she pops up in the video.

“Hi Harper, since we don’t see each other much and I can never get you on the phone, I decided to make you a video. First, happy birthday. This collage is just to show you that I still love you very much. As for the ending, it will surprise you, but you know how I love surprises. So, hang on! XOXO.”

She had to have finished it shortly before her death. What follows leaves me speechless. It is a slideshow of recent pictures of her: one where she tattooed my name on her buttock, one where she is lying in bed with a guy whose face I don’t see, another where she bungee jumps, one where she pierces her nipple... I’m shocked, my open mouth proves it... but who is this girl? This isn’t my Sara. She would never have done that.

The video continues. She is in front of the camera again laughing.

“Okay, are you still with us or are you dead? I wanted to prove to you that I, too, know how to have the time of my life. And now, my birthday present: I propose that we rent a house together in the city at the end of our studies. What do you say? I miss you, Harper. I love you, call me.”

She sends lots of kisses, leaving a lipstick mark on the lens. I’m in a state of complete shock. She wanted to leave here?

“Sara...” I whisper between sobs.

I lie in bed, cuddling her pillow, trying to comfort myself and calm my silent, invasive tears. She was tattooed and pierced? She was crazier than I could ever be. A giggle escapes me, mixing with my sobs. How could she have changed so much so quickly? I’m filled with the need to investigate further.

I wish I could talk to her and tell her how I feel. Ask her all my questions. My eyes fall onto the big bottle near the dresser. An idea sneaks into my mind, but I reject it. It’s madness. Yet continuing her little ritual tempts me, especially after the videos I just found.

I begin frantically searching the room to find the balloons and ribbon she used. I finally came across a box, under the bed. I discover small blank cards, ribbon, and coloured pens. Lying on the floor, I write every unspoken thing that weighed between Sara and me.

Hello Sara,

Perhaps you’ll never get this card where you are, even if my soul deeply needs it. I returned home, and I just found the collages you had started for me. Of course, I never received it, you left too early. I miss you so much. It’s like part of me has died. The atmosphere is heavy here. Without you, it’s different. Nothing is the same. I love you very much, too.

Sara, give me a sign from wherever.

Harper.

I stand up and cut a length of pink ribbon, and then I must study the huge tank to understand its operation. I press a big button and a colossal pschitt escapes. I choose a fun shaped balloon—a gold star. I inflate it, and battle to achieve the tie before hanging the ribbon on it that holds my card. I open the window and climb onto the garage roof. In the past, we used to escape here at night to watch the stars.

I close my eyes, concentrating hard.

And I let go of my first balloon...

I remain a moment, my eyes closed, thinking very hard of Sara. When I finally reopen them, I lower my gaze to the garden and discover my father watching me. Even from here, I can see sadness invading his features. But again, as before, he leaves. Up on the roof, I watch the balloon shrink as it flies away towards the skies... to my Sara.

A star for a star.