The Knight in Leather Armor

ch.37 March 21st

“Nothing,” Harry brushed off as he pulled his hand away and picked out the glass indifferently.

“Is it deep?” Danny asked as he took a closer look.

“No. I’m fine,” Harry asserted and he covered his bloody hand with his good hand.

“Harry, let me help you,” I insisted as I took his hand again.

“I got it,” he said angrily now. Why won’t he let me help him?

Danny stepped closer. “Harry,” he stated calmly.

Harry and I turned to look at him. “Just let her help you,” he urged.

Harry stared at Danny as if he had suggested something worse than death. Then, he turned his attention back to me.

Begrudgingly, he gave his hand to me and I carefully cleaned the blood with a wet cloth.

“Ooh,” Tony winced as he saw Harry’s hand.

“Anger,” Niall grinned slyly as he raised his can of coke and took a gulp. Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Anger is man’s strongest key. And sex,” he laughed.  “Sex is his weakest lock,” he cocked his brow and threw the empty can at the trash. Then he jumped onto the couch.

My cheeks burned. Harry kept his gaze low.

Danny just continued to sweep away the pieces of glass on the floor.

I cleaned up the last few shards of glass and the last drop of blood. I wrapped an adhesive around Harry’s hand and then held it softly between both of my hands.

“I’m sorry” Harry apologized again and he squeezed my hand slightly.

I nodded.

*****

Harry didn’t say a word to me after that. It was like he was ashamed of himself for having gotten angry and getting hurt. I couldn’t imagine why he would even apologize, though. And I certainly didn’t know why he thought I was so perfect and that I couldn’t handle his not so pretty track record.

You can say I was doing my homework, since my math book was out and I was holding a pen, but the only equation I was working on was trying to figure out Harry.

I wanted to know why he didn’t tell me something as simple and trivial as his middle name.  I wanted to know what had really happened between him and his father. I wanted to know the not-so-pretty things about him because they were his mistakes and his failures and his past. They made him human. They made him real.

And I loved his leather jacket and the persona he portrayed wearing it; all tuff and hard like Dally Winston, while also protecting the obsessive romantic, like Jay Gatsby. But, I wanted to see him for who he was, not who he was hiding or was ashamed of.

My phone vibrated.

Meet me at Monarch Park at 5

-Harry Xx

OK.

-Angela Xx

This was my chance. It almost felt like my only chance. I had to let him know that I wasn’t afraid of what he was or could be or anything that related to time. I wanted him as he was now, today. This moment.

I glanced at the time. It was half-past 4. He must have something urgent to tell me…

Quickly, I put my things away and headed for the door.  Danny was at the site and won’t be coming until 8.

I looked at the clock again: March 21st. My stomach churned dangerously as I remembered what the man at the jail had grown so hysterical about.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I walked into the park gate.

I walked down the gravel walkway and over to the bridge. A few young children on tricycles passed me. An angry soccer mom shouted on her phone. A feeble old man tugged at his dog’s leash.

“Angela,” a familiar voice called.

But it wasn’t the deep, raspy familiar voice I wanted to hear. I turned around cautiuosly to blue-black eyes, which stared at me with a venomus delight.