The following afternoon, we were headed north on I-94. Harry had worked the night shift and then snagged six hours of sleep before we departed. I offered to drive, but he insisted on taking the wheel because that's what he had offered to do.

In any other circumstance, I would have found this thrilling, to be on a mini road trip with Harry. But Thomas's death clouded everything. I was still extremely thankful that Harry was with me, but for obvious reasons, I couldn't consider this anything but a loving gesture and a helping hand. 

We arrived just before dinner. Again, Chloe was the first out of the house, shrieking with joy, followed by my mother yelling out the door, "Put a coat on, Chlo!" She ignored Mom and ran straight to me, jumping into my arms as soon as I stepped out of the car. 

"Mmm," I crushed her into a hug. "It's so good to see you, Bugaboo."

"You, too!" She squealed with glee. "But I'm sad that Tommy died." The look on her face turned into an appropriate frown. It was cute to hear her say Tommy. I had never called him that, I don't know why. Almost everyone else did.

Harry retrieved our bags from the trunk and followed me up the front steps. My father bolted out the door and took the bags from Harry, disappeared inside and then came back in a flash, offering his hand. "I'm Harvey Jansen." 

"Harry Styles," Harry responded, giving my father a firm handshake. Then he turned to my mother and said, "Lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for having me."

"I'm Mary Lou," she responded, smiling her widest. 

We poured into the warmth of the house, greeted by the delectable smells of dinner. My father took Harry's coat, and then Harry looked down at Chloe, who was acting shy all of a sudden. 

"I remember you!" Harry said to her, poking a finger into her belly. She responded with an adorable smile. Then he said, "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Chloe giggled.

"Cows go."

"Cows go who?" 

Harry stifled a chuckle and said, "No, silly, cows go moo!"

Chloe slapped her hand to her forehead and laughed like crazy. Then she said, "OH! I know a cow one, too!" Her eyes grew as wide as apples while Harry awaited the joke. "Knock, knock." 

"Who's there?" Harry dutifully answered.

"Interrupting cow," Chloe said, trying to contain her giggles.

"Interrupt-" Harry began but was cut off by Chloe's punchline.

"Moooo!" She said, drawing out the sound. Harry laughed loudly, apparently finding the joke quite funny.

They continued with the silly jokes until my mom called us to the table for dinner. Chloe yelled, "Ima sit by Harry!" With that she grabbed his hand and led him to the seat right next to hers. A superb chicken pot pie awaited us at the table, perfect for the chilly fall weather.

There was an odd comfort in the familiarity of home, the glow, the sounds, the scent. Somehow, home and family seemed to lessen the harshness of grief. 

"Fantastic meal, Mrs. Jansen," Harry said as he cleaned the last bits off his plate. It was actually kind of surreal to have him sitting there, in my childhood home, at our dinner table.

"Thank you, Harry. And please call me Mary Lou."

"Are you Ellie's boyfriend?" Chloe asked as if it was the most reasonable question in the world. I guess it was a reasonable assumption for a 5-year-old to make, especially since the word had been tossed around the last time I'd been home. But my family didn't really know of all the events that had occurred since then. 

I smiled, squeezed Harry's hand, hoping he'd play along, and said, "Yes, he is." The little smile on his face was priceless. 

"Ell," my mother said. "There's a private visitation tonight, for family only, before the open visitations tomorrow." I nodded, not even having to think about whether or not I would go. Of course I would. 

After dinner, Harry and I went to our rooms - he was in the guest room across from mine - to get settled in. I changed into something appropriate to wear for the visitation and went across the hall.

"Hey." I smiled at Harry, sitting on the end of the guest bed, checking his messages.

"How are you doing?" He asked. 

"I don't know yet. I'm sure it will be hard when I see him tonight. Are you...I mean, will you come with me?"

He tilted his head a little and remarked, "Your mother said it was for family only." The way he ended the sentence made it sound like he was asking a question.

"Well, you're my boyfriend, so you are family for the weekend." I smiled sheepishly, but then I added, "I hope I didn't throw you off by that, saying you're my boyfriend. I mean, I'm still taking this very slowly, but my parents don't know about everything that happened in the past month."

He came to stand directly in front of me, towering over me so that I had let my head fall back to look up at him. "You didn't tell them anything?" 

"No," I said, shaking my head for emphasis. "I didn't want them to think badly of you." I looked down, and then looked up with my eyes, not completely facing him. "I mean, it was a shitty thing to do, but we've already covered that." I gave him a teasing little smile.

He stepped closer and pulled my chin up to face him. "I know. And again, I'm very sorry. You really are incredible, you know that?"

"Why?" I laughed. "I just called you shitty!"

"I think it's incredible that you didn't tell your family about something I did to hurt you, when you could have hashed over it for hours with them. I was actually a little surprised that they weren't somewhat cold towards me."

I hadn't even thought about that. "Did you expect them to be?" 

"A little, I guess. I mean, I hurt you. Most parents wouldn't be crazy about a guy that did that to their daughter. So, thanks for not throwing me under the bus," he said, smiling gratefully.

"Well, thank you for coming with me, even if it meant potentially being hated by my parents." I pushed up on my toes and kissed his cheek. "You're pretty incredible, too."

Just then my mom appeared in the hallway. "Are you two ready to go?"

"I think so," I said, and looked at Harry for confirmation. With his assent, we followed my family outside, but Harry insisted on driving. Chloe asked if she could ride with us, and Harry immediately said yes. It tickled me that he had taken such a liking to my baby sister.

On the way there, I worried a little about crying again in front of Harry. Of course he would expect it, but it was hard to be so vulnerable in front of someone, especially with the questions hanging in the air about what exactly we were. I didn't want him to feel obligated to do or say the right thing. But I was happy that he was with me.

There's nothing that can really prepare you for the shock of seeing a loved one in a casket. It wasn't as if I was unfamiliar with death. I had seen plenty of dead people, and it wasn't usually as quiet a situation as this. But to see my Thomas lying there, unmoving, pale and lifeless, was just too much. It felt just like someone had socked me in the gut. It took a few moments before I was able to breathe, and with my breath came loud wails of grief. I was in good company; it would have been impossible for anyone in my family to remain stoic at a time like this. After weeping over my friend's casket, I took turns hugging and sobbing with just about everyone in the family, my grandma, Aunt Jean, all the other aunts, uncles and cousins who joined us. Finally, I turned to Harry, who had been at my side the entire time, expressing condolences as best he could. He spread his arms around me like a blanket, calming the chill in my body. He didn't really attempt to say anything; what could he say really? All the trite things people say at a time like this are useless. I didn't care if Thomas was "in a better place" or that "his suffering was over." Not just yet. This was about me, about all of us, and the pain we were feeling because he was gone. Harry seemed to understand that and simply held me, his body somehow communicating what words couldn't, that he was there for me and that he cared.

The priest took some time to address us, offering words of comfort as well as practical things. He informed us that it was Thomas's wish to have a closed casket and simply to have photos from his life to represent who he was. The viewing of the body was for family only. But it made so much sense that Thomas didn't want us to remember what he looked like when he died, emaciated and ashen. I would always remember him as a much more energetic version of the person I'd seen a month earlier.

The following day at the wake, there was more grief, to be sure, but I felt more peaceful inside, more stability. It had been very good to get through that first round of sorrow the night before. I was honored to see so many people who had known and loved Thomas come to mourn with us as well as rejoice over his life.

As he had requested, there were photos and collages displayed around the room, and it was no surprise to me that I was in many of the pictures with him. As kids, we were always together! It made me happy to show Harry the kind of relationship we had when we were younger. It felt like Harry got to know him just a little, and that meant a lot to me.

Harry and I decided to leave and go for a drive, while my parents stayed on for a bit longer. I showed him around our little hometown, where I went to high school, where Thomas and I used to play, where I had my first job as a waitress at Dog and Suds, an old diner that looked like it hadn't been remodeled since the 50's. 

When we returned to my parents' house, I made some decaf and snuggled up on the couch next to Harry, pulling a blanket around us. Boundaries were temporarily suspended in this unusual circumstance. Harry welcomed it and put his arm around me while I leaned my head against his shoulder. 

"Doing okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Tomorrow will be the worst, though. Especially the cemetery service."

"That's always hard," he agreed. After a few quiet sips of coffee, he asked, "Do you remember what you said the first time I tried to apologize about Logan?"

"Which part?" I asked, knowing I had said many, many things and not all of them were kind.

"You said that when you apologize, you try to go back and fix what you did wrong." I nodded, remembering. "Well, I wish I had come with you that weekend. It would have been so much better for our relationship, obviously, but I also wouldn't have even been at home when Logan came by."

"Really?" I asked.

"Really. And besides the fact that I wanted to be here for you this weekend, I wanted the chance to re-do what I should have done in the first place."

I tilted my head back and looked up at him. Our lips were only inches apart. God, I wanted to kiss him so badly right then. But I held back, not wanting to rush our relationship - or my trust for him - just because he was being so damn sweet. Instead, I stretched up just enough to kiss his cheek, saying, "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me."

__________

So, hey! How's everyone doing? I've been curious to find out about all of you who are reading this - how old you are, where you live, etc. Obviously, I don't want anyone to share more than you're comfortable sharing, I just want to get a feel for my audience. Oh, and are there any guys reading? I'd be delighted to know! :D

I will try to have another chapter up tomorrow (at least one, I hope). Maybe we can get my story back up in the rankings! YOU are all the ones who make that happen, and it makes me crazy happy when my stories get noticed. xoxo