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“She ran a red light, hit another car, and our car rolled. My mother wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and died on impact. My father broke his back and lost the ability to walk, and I have metal rods in my shoulder from where the seatbelt saved my life but shattered my bones.”
“There was a family in the other car. Both parents died and the little boy became an orphan.”
“I killed my mother that night. It is my fault that my father can’t walk. I made a little boy an orphan. It is my fault, all of it. I ruin everything, Harrison, and I am so scared that I am going to ruin you too.” I can’t stop the tears as they run freely down my cheeks. Harrison pulls my face up to look at his, cupping my jaw, and catches each and every tear, brushing them away with his thumb.
“That accident was not your fault. Your mother was driving. The weather was bad, people weren’t wearing seatbelts, there were so many factors,” Harrison says the words that every counselor has ever said to me before.
“But I was the reason we were driving at that time in the first place.”
“You were a child. This is not your fault. It was a horrible, terrible accident. The pain of it is not yours to carry like this. You need to let it go. I’ve got you, Beth, I will carry your load, I will carry you forever. Let me,” Harrison whispers to me, his breath touching my lips.
“I’m so scared...” I whisper, feeling like that little girl again.
“I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall,” he says, as his lips touch mine, and he seals his promise to my lips.
I just hope he can keep it.
32
HARRISON
BREAKING NEWS
We are mere days away from the state of Maryland elections for governor and clear favorite Harrison Rothschild’s campaign has hit a speedbump.
Our sources say that at a funders thank you luncheon yesterday, key medical supporter Doctor Robert Warner almost died due to an allergic reaction.
Harrison was seen out and about this morning, visiting the local hospital where Doctor Warner spent the night, and this reporter couldn’t help but notice his team was one short today, with the absence of his project manager Beth Longmere noticeable.
Is Beth to blame for the close call at the restaurant yesterday, or is Maryland’s sweetheart somewhere else?
More to come.
“Maryland’s sweetheart, seriously, those reporters have no idea.” My mother huffs from next to me in the back seat of the car as she scoffs at the radio. We are on our way to a photoshoot in Patterson Park, something my mother set up for me months ago with one of her society friends at Town and Country Magazine. We thought it was a great idea at the time. Now, after having only a few hours’ sleep with Beth on her sofa last night, I want to be anywhere else but here.
Beth is currently in the car behind us with Oscar and Eddie. Upholding extreme professionalism, but steering well clear of my mother and I don’t blame her.
“You were out of line yesterday,” I say to her, because I was too angry to talk to her yesterday after the situation with Doctor Warner. The protective streak I have for Beth is now wide awake and thumping through my veins after what she shared with me last night. The truth of her history now cements to me that she is stronger than many people give her credit for. But just because she carries it well, doesn't mean it isn’t heavy, and I will do what I said. I will carry her. I will carry everything for her.
“Ohh.” She scoffs at me again, waving her hand in the air to brush my words away. “Don’t be silly, Harrison.” She’s not accepting any responsibility for her actions. I go to say something more, but we pull up to the park, and I don’t wait for her as I step out of the car needing to create space. I feel like I am going to explode. My emotions are everywhere and instead of being a nice, supportive parent, my mother is making things worse.
I walk straight to my team. Oscar and Eddie are standing, talking with Lilly and I wonder what she is doing here. My eyes wander to Beth who is already a few yards away, chatting to the photographer, and I see her smile and I start to relax.
“Okay, so let’s get this over with,” I mumble to Oscar, who claps his hands.
“Right, where do we start?” he asks the journalist.
“Well, as Mrs. Rothschild suggested, we were planning to take some photographs down near the lake, of the two of you watching the ducks,” the young journalist says.
“Two of whom? My mother and I?” I ask in question because I thought this was a solo shoot, but I could be wrong. Maybe they want a family shoot.
“No, silly,” my mother says, her fake smile splashed across her face, and I look at Eddie. She is up to something. He nods in agreement.
“It is with you and Lilly, of course!” my mother exclaims and hugs Lilly’s shoulders, then the penny drops.
“I don’t think...” Oscar starts, but my mother doesn’t let him finish.
“It is merely a piece to show Harrison’s life and how he grew up. Lilly here will just take a few shots with him, which they will use in the piece to talk about how you are lifelong friends,” my mother continues, and while I am sure it isn’t as simple as that, I want to get this over with. I take a deep breath and blow away my frustrations.
