Then strong hands are on my arms, turning me. Harris holds me, absorbing my whole soggy face with his gaze, finishing my sentence with soft words. ‘Because the last time you cared, somebody you loved died.’
I let myself lean on him as he pulls me in. And then I’m bawling, in a way I haven’t done for ages. I don’t think I even cried this much at my mother’s funeral, although I don’t remember much about that time at all.
Harris hugs me through it, smoothing my hair with his hand. ‘Ah, babe…’ His words are muddy as the riverbank, ‘Ah, Amie…’
When I’m all sobbed out, he leads me down to the river so I can wash my face under a canopy of dark branches. He splashes some water on his face, too. Then he helps me back into the car and we drive back to the place we started, with the headlights on. Frogs leap ahead of the light on the dirt road, and I tell him about my aunt’s request and the disaster I’ve gotten myself into there.
‘What will you do?’ he asks in the dark car.
‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t.’
‘Amie, you keep telling me my life’s important. But what aboutyourlife? What about your photography? I know you’re worried about your family, but they’re burying you alive…’
I don’t have any answers. ‘God, we’re a mess, aren’t we?’
‘We are,’ he agrees. His teeth shine in the light of the dashboard display. ‘But at least we know it.’
‘Tell me you’ll be careful,’ I say fervently, clutching his hand.
‘I’ll be careful.’ His face is shadowed and solemn. ‘I’ll be careful as I can be, Amie.’
He brushes my forehead gently with his lips, like a parting gift, and when he’s sure I’m okay to drive, he lets me go.
