I then find calm. It feels nice to see someone else share energy here.
Amanda was always a pure and beautiful girl, far too young to die, and like me, extremely private.
She chose to have few friends, like me, and few have come to say a word.
As Samantha finishes talking to my sister, she stands and shivers. Without thinking, I remove my long overcoat and wrap it around her. I do not want to discuss the action or smile, so I walk away.
I am also feeling it more than ever.
The darkness.
Being the last of the family and having the ability to have children but not doing so, weighs on me. There is another thing. I liked it when she put wildflowers on my little sister’s gravestone, and I liked it too much.
To hide the fact, I’m touched and to keep my emotions from Samantha, and the world, I walk away from the Jag.
I walk up to the old fashioned three-seater under the oaks.
The stunning view looks across the estate. It also looks across the flat, calm lake. I think about life, how I am so messed up, and if there is anything to it. Maybe I should be more social, maybe I should join every club going. Force myself to talk about sports and weather, things I do not care about. At all.
Maybe I should force myself to be the happiest guy around.
The thing is I am not. I only enjoy deep conversations, and I’ve never learned to love. The fact is I’m afraid of falling in love.
I also know, for whatever reason, I ambroken.I am not at all the perfect guy.
I am far, far from it.
As I walk back towards the sports car, I think about the last time I saw my family.
Then, with the back of my black leather glove, I wipe my cheek. No one can see that I cry. No one in the fucking world.
I’m close to the old Jaguar convertible when I notice her in the driver’s seat. She looks up, and we share a moment. “Get in.”
For once, I do as I’m told. I sit in silence and hand her my warm black leather gloves. She reluctantly takes them, realizing her hands will be exposed to the winds. Mine can be hidden in my pockets.
As she drives us around the forest and towards the small town, we look about in silence.
Finally, as we take a wide bend, and she opens the sports car up, she pats my shoulder. It’s nice, and I have so little human touch, it stands out. It means a lot.
We start to talk about the wildlife, the area, and its beauty.
Samantha tells me it must have been great to have grown up here.
“It was,” I explain as I remember back, “but then, my sister and I were sent to boarding schools around the country. It all changed. We stayed close, but growing up here, around nature, had a simplicity and a purity to it. It was perfect, fun, and life was different.”
We drive in silence, then Samantha looks over. “Tell me about Amanda, Harry. What was she like?”
“She was the best, and she was the purest. And much smarter than me. She sacrificed for others, and she used to save wild animals on the estate. Small birds. Ducklings. Even wounded deer. She was also a wise, old soul.”
“And you’re not?” she asks, turning to me, her scarf flying in the wind.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I really have no idea who I am anymore.”
There is nothing to say as we drive past a water wheel on a corner.
“That’s bullshit,” Samantha says, looking over. I give her a look, but my face is flat.
“You’re far stronger than you know. And far more capable.”
