Fight For Me by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harrison
I placethe flowers on top of my parents’ names. I wanted to pile all my grief into a ball and push it away. I didn’t think coming here would be this hard. All these years I’ve been avoiding the site like the plague. The magnitude of the despair I feel isn’t as big as it was when it happened, but I feel like I’m reliving every agonizing moment from that day. The hollowness in my chest increases and it feels like the skin of an old wound breaking open, reminding me of how it ached.
It feels like the walls are closing in on me, the people are getting louder. I take small breaths of air, trying to keep myself together, and start replacing the painful memories from that day with the happy memories we made as a family. That’s how I’ve lived through every day since they left me, forcing myself to remember small things, like the chocolate chip cookies Mom baked, and how she only let us have one at a time and always after dinner.
I remember all the blessed moments of our lives. I try to bring them up as often as necessary to remind myself that life can be good, that life was good for them, and they loved us. Every time I’m about to break, I picture my parents watching over me, and all my troubles seem smaller. I try to hold those memories now.
Today, they can’t ward off my sorrow.
The tears burst, spilling down my face.
The muscle of my chin trembles. I feel like a child who has fallen from his bike for the first time and scraped his knee. In my case, there’s no mother to run to my side and kiss it to make it better. The walls that have held me together for so long, collapse with each tear that soaks my shirt. I can feel myself quivering with the horror I’ve ignored. I can hear the screams over the phone while my parents said goodbye, Mom’s sobs, Dad’s pleas.
I remember the silence after they hung up, the darkness that fell when we lost them. I can feel that same darkness pulling me in again. I couldn’t bring them back to my brothers, to me. I couldn’t save them.
“I’m with you,” Luna says quietly. “You have to come back to me, Harry. Don’t stay in the past. Please don’t leave me, baby.”
I can feel her arms around me, and her warm light brings me back to the present. I sob as I cling onto Luna, grasping her tight.
She doesn’t say a word, just holds me in silence, rocking with me as I continue releasing all the pain I’ve held onto since they left. Closing my eyes, I clearly remember Mom as she would read to us at night. The routine never changed. The last words she said while tucking us in were, “Love You Forever and Goodnight Moon.”
I wipe my tears and press a kiss on top of Luna’s head.
“Hmm?” Luna tilts her head. All of a sudden it hits me right in the center of my chest. This woman just saw me at my worst and lent me her strength.
And I think she stole my heart in the process.
“Those are my favorite books. Mom read them to the four of us every night. She probably never stopped. I think the last time I sat and listened to her was when I was sixteen. Her good night phrase was a combination of both books: I love you forever, I like you forever. No matter if I leave. And when I’m gone, you say good night to the moon, because that’s where I’ll always be watching over you.”
Luna cups my face with one hand, smiling at me. “I like you forever,” she whispers, pulling me toward her and pressing her lips lightly onto mine.
The words. The kiss. The moment when everything stops and it becomes just us. Finally us.
No one else matters. The pain is gone, replaced by a calm that I had never experienced—not during my adult life. This moment feels intimate. Unique. I have the urge to leave because I don’t want to share what’s happening between us. Not that I know what’s happening yet.
Luna doesn’t say a word until I’m calm and the feeling in my limbs comes back.
“I’m ready to get the fuck out of here,” I whisper in her ear, hugging her tight one more time to absorb some strength.
“Where do you want to go now?” she asks.
“Far away from everything,” I mumble.
“Fucking away from this place,” I say it a little louder, worried she can’t hear me. Then, I remember where I am and glace around with a wince, making sure there aren’t any families within earshot.
“We should wash that mouth out with soap.” She grins at me, looking up to the sky. Then she stops, her eyes widening, and turns to me.
“Harrison.” Damon marches toward me, his eyes guarded. “Can we talk for a minute?”
