Description: Elysia has had it tough, but then she meets Henry, who gives her comfort no one else has. The problem is just that many others feel the same way about him.
Characters: An older Henry Pearl. Original character is played by Bill SkarsgΓ₯rd, in the movie Battlecreek (2017).
Warnings: 18+, heavy themes.
βWere you out tonight?β
My mom stood in her turquoise robe, staring at me while I walked into the kitchen, just dressed in a big washed-out t-shirt and panties. My wig wasn't on, and my short ash brown hair was for once not concealed. I blinked slowly because I didn't know if I should be honest. I hadn't expected her to hear when I walked through the door. It was a stupid thing to believe because she had heard me every time in my teens when I crept out at night.
βEhhβ¦ Yeahβ¦ I just took a walk.β
I stared at the coffee machine while it poured a cup for me. I didn't want to see my mom's look; whatever she said, I would feel stupid, because I always did.
βI looked at the clock, and it was five A.M. when you came home. You must have been out for hours!β
She sounded worried and upset, so I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say because I had been out that long, and something told me I would do it again.
She sighed deeply but sat down by the kitchen table calmly.
βIt's really nice that you go out, but at that time of the day?β
Now I looked at her because I wanted her to understand and I didn't want her to act like a worried teen mom again.
βIt's nice. Thereβs no people around; I can think, and it's a good temperature. You don't need to worry.β
A kind guy followed me home. No, I promise, he was kind.
I continued to talk in my head. I wanted to tell her about Henry, but it was also such a wonderful feeling to have him as my secret. And if I talked about him, I would probably like him even more, especially if my mom got excited that I had actually met a guy I liked. That hadn't happened in ages.
βOkayβ¦ I can't forbid you to do it. You're a grown woman, but be careful. There are strange people in every townβ¦β
"Yeah, I will, I promise.β
I gave her a calming smile before sitting down at the table opposite her, and she smiled back, but she gave me that worried smile she had given me so many times before.
ΓΓΓ
I wanted to meet Henry again, but I pretended that night I was just walking out to look at the moon again. It wasn't completely full that night, but almost, and it was also almost as beautiful. It wouldn't be strange if I wanted to admire it. I walked almost the same way again, past the rural houses and the big yards, but then finally I came to the fields. Just that walk took an hour; it would take more than thirty minutes for me to then walk to Henry's bench, but it took even longer because I got lost in the big corn field. Luckily for me, I had the moon as company but also my guide.
I was lost for twenty minutes before I came up to the old wooden bench by the path, but it was empty, though. I looked at it disappointed before sitting down with a sigh. I had tried to fool myself that I was just out for the walk, but I had in reality just had one goal. Henry. The disappointment ate me up from inside, and I felt both sad and also embarrassed. Maybe I wouldn't meet him again, and I would have walked for two hours to see him. He maybe was in a relationship or even gay. I had no idea. Still, the butterflies rented a room in my chest, and they flew around when I thought about his shy smile.
I cringed when I walked over the fields, dragging my hands over my face in anxiety, even though he didn't know how desperate I had been. I even muttered to myself how stupid I was. In the middle of my anxious walk I heard someone call out, and it made me stop in my tracks but also in my feelings. Should I run? Was it one of those strange people my mom had talked about?
βElysia!β shouted someone again. It was a soft, clear male voice. Even if I had just heard the voice once, I didnβt scream, I knew it was Henry. I looked around with a beating heart, and far away I could see him come from the direction I was walking in, from the middle-class street. He waved a hand at me while smiling big. I hadn't seen him smile so big before, and it lit up his serious face and gave him crow's feet around his eyes. While walking towards me, he pulled up the hood of his red hoodie. I smiled at him, because he was so cute and also because the move felt like a shy one. He radiated warmth and friendlyness, something I didn't connect to men, so I stood still, just staring at him while he walked with long strides up to me.
βHey,β he said with the same big smile. He left the hood up. I smiled back. I thought I smiled my regular smile, but my eyes were almost as full of stars as the sky. I looked in love even if I had just met him once.
βHey, Henry.β
ΓΓΓ
He had been sitting at the bench earlier, reading, but had thought about me, so he wanted to look to see if I was nearby. He had walked the same way as the day before, but because I got lost, I had probably missed him. He wanted to meet me again, just as I had wanted to meet him again.
That night we talked more about books, music, and art. It was obvious he was an intellectual. He knew so many names, so many stories, while I just knew about modern romance literature, pop, and classical artwork. He wanted to show me what he meant, but he had forgotten his phone at home so we looked at mine together. It felt intimate to sit so close at the bench, but after having done that for five nights in a row now, it felt almost natural. Almost, my heart beat like a little drummer boy in my chest, though.
He never had a phone with him, so we always sat close together. I had understood he had tried to hide something from me with his hoodie, and the sixth time we met, he wore a knitted sweater that was stretched out at the neck. I could see an angry wound sticking up from the midnight blue sweater, and when I thought he didn't notice, I looked at it. It was obviously a burn mark, and it was probably much bigger than I could see. I analyzed his face and expression, forgetting he probably would feel my examining eyes. He looked up from the book he was reading for me. It was poetry, easy, beginner poetry he had brought for me so I could learn about it. I would have thought earlier I would think it was boring, but he made every subject interesting.
Henry looked back at me while I still looked between the scar and his face. He smiled doubtfully and laid down the book next to him. He looked out over the field, the moon, probably waiting for me to ask something.
βWhat happened?β I asked, carefully, afraid to say something stupid. I really didn't want to hurt him or make him believe I gave his wound negative attention. I sat with a wig on; I was not the person to judge.
He made himself comfortable on the bench and pulled lightly on his sweaterβs neck so I could see more of the wound.
βI have a rare skin diseaseβ¦ It's the sun that has done it. I was young. Now I stay away from the sun.β
He smiled comfortably, but it carried sadness and shrugged. I didn't smile though; it was too much to take in and confusing.
βYou mean you're, like, allergic to the sun?β
βYeah. The UV light. It burns my skin and it can't heal.β
Henry had such a boyish charm, but at that moment he was just a confident man. It was obvious he had reconciled with his reality. What others thought was not in his purview.
βSo this is my time. My day. The moon reflects the little sunlight I need.β He looked up at the moon again. I looked at his face with wonder, without looking back at the wound. I had thought he was fascinating before he told me, but this just made him more interesting. He was a man living in the night. In my romantic nonsensical day dreams I had imagined him as a prince of midnight, just showing himself under the moon, because it was the only time I met him. The daydream had some truth to it, and it made my heart beat quickly in my chest.
After a moment of silence, he looked at me but more seriously than I was prepared for.
βI know you're wounded tooβ¦β
I looked at him with big eyes and dragged my fingers through my wig's locks. I really thought people couldn't see it.
βDid you see it at once? Fuck, I spent so much money on itβ¦β
I laughed to hide my embarrassment but also the feeling of anxiety. When I looked up at Henry, he gave me a confused look.
βWhat do you mean?β
βThe wig?β
βThe wig?β
He actually didn't seem to understand what I talked about, and that made me just as confused as he seemed to be.
βI canβ¦ ehmβ" The manly confidence ran off him like cold water and disappeared down into the ground.
βThis will sound strange, but I can feel itβ¦ I can smell it on you.β
In my weakest moments I had always imagined that my cancer smelled like death, so hearing him say it out loud tore a hole in my chest. I stared at him hurt but also in shame. I stood up quickly, and he turned his eyes towards me just as quickly.
βIβ¦ I don'tβ"
I shook my head to try to control my tears, but they escaped my eyes anyway. Henry looked at me like he had never seen a human cry before. He may never have hurt someone before.
βI'm sorry for smelling like death. I'm sorry you have been forced for a week toβ"
I cried hysterically, in panic, before turning my back towards him and running through the fields. I needed to get away from the shame, the hurt, and also those suicidal thoughts I had months ago. I needed to go home, lock myself in, and never go out again. I had really believed he accepted me, but he had probably just felt bad for me. The girl who was smelling like disease and death. The girl without hope.
I heard him shout my name, but I just ran. I'd rather be alone than with someone that forces themself to be with me.
ΓΓΓ
Somewhere inside me I knew that I destroyed my mom when I disappeared into hibernation, but it was so far away I couldn't see it as more than an empty fact that had nothing to do with me. She had come into my bedroom while I was lying in bed and forced me to eat. I didn't have an appetite, though, because I imagined that I could feel the smell of myself. I smelled like rotten flesh and metal. I didn't really know how death smelled, but that was what I imagined it smelled like, and it was what I thought my skin oozed.
My mom didn't understand why suddenly those thoughts were back and tried to make me realize I wasn't smelly and that I didn't need to shower two times a day, but I could just hear Henry's words in my head. Kind, sweet Henry. My chest ached when I thought about him, but it transformed to shame quickly by once again hearing his words in my head and seeing his awkward look at me over and over behind my eyelids.
I lay in my bed for a week, and at night I stared at the moon from my window. It had become half of its size while I had been locked in.
βJust you and me, againβ¦β I said to the moon with a sigh while standing leaned against the side of the window. βOr does he watch you too? Is he out there?β
I whispered the last part, like I was even embarrassed in front of her. She had witnessed my and Henry's relationship grow.
I turned on the blinds before lying down in bed without knowing who was watching the moon too. If the moon could answer, she would have said he actually was sleeping, even if it was troubled. For once he had been awake in the daytime. To search after me. He couldn't search at night because he was the only one being up then. He needed others' help.
ΓΓΓ
I could hear the door bell ring even if I had my door closed. I was lying in my bed in just my light purple towel. I had just stepped out of the shower but felt tired at once. I heard my mom and listened to her confused voice. She talked with a man, but his voice just became a bassed mumble through my wall.
βMy daughter? Elysia? Okayβ¦ Oh, at nightβ¦ Yeah, I know she has taken walks at nightβ¦β
I understood it was Henry. I understood he actually was standing by my door during the day even though he shouldn't be out in sunlight. I could also feel in my chest, or maybe in my skin, that it was him. I had known it before my mom had even opened the door but hadn't listened to my intuition. I sat up in bed, continuing to listen even if my instinct was to walk out to them. At that moment I was so happy to have him that close again that I didn't think about what had happened the last time we saw each other.
βHenry? Henry Pearl?β
Not even I knew his last name, but it suited him.
βStay here; I will ask her if she wants to meet you. I don't know if she wants toβ¦ Okay.β I could hear my mom close the door carefully.
My mom cleared her voice outside of my door before she knocked. I took a deep breath. Just when she had knocked, I had also heard Henry's comment from a week ago in my head again, but decided to wave it away. I needed to meet him again. Maybe he had an explanation. Maybe even a good one.
βYeah?β
My mom opened my door slowly and crept into my room with big eyes.
βThere is a tall man outside the door searching for youβ¦!β She whispered even if Henry was on the other side of the door and could not possibly hear her. I nodded weakly.Β
βHenry.β
βHe says you have met six, seven times and you know him..!β
I took a deep breath and stood up.
βI don't knowβ¦ A bit I guess.β
I should have just said I knew him to calm my mom down, but I wasn't sure I actually knew him. We had talked about the beauty in life but never about our own lives.
βA bit? Do you want to meet him, or should I call the police?β
I couldn't stop myself from laughing because my mom was probably the only one who would see Henry as a threat. Even though he was tall, he had a bad posture and mostly looked down into the ground. He looked anxious but not in a worrisome way, more like he thought he was in the way.
βNo police, thank you. Can you tell him that I need to dress? I can't meet him in a towel.β
βYou certainly can't!β Said she determinedly, almost with an upset voice, and I smirked at her, amused, when she walked out from my room. The nerves came over me quickly, though, but I didn't want Henry to wait too long, so I pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and a pink sweater. It was a bit too hot for August, but it was the only cute but relaxed thing I could find at that moment.
When I walked out to the hallway Henry stood there in the same outfit as he had when we first met. My mom had let him in and stood to the side, probably to guard him so he wouldn't take anything. It was silly, so I gave her a pointed smile so she would leave us alone.
βHeyβ¦β said Henry nervously but smiled at me, surprised. It was then I realized I didn't have any wig on, and I dragged my fingers through my short hair self-consciously.
βIt's really pretty. It suits you so well.β
I shook my head for myself while looking down on the floor. I felt my cheek blossom from the compliment but also to be with him again. He had searched me up, and that couldn't have been easy, so it must mean something.
βIs it okay that I come in?β He asked softly, and I nodded.Β
βWe can go to my room.β
Henry took off his well-worn sneakers, and to my surprise he pulled off his gray hoodie. He wore just a white t-shirt underneath. I looked away, though, because I was prepared to maybe see a burn wound, but instead I saw deep lines on his hips, traveling down to the black elastic of his underwear and his jeans. I wasn't prepared for him to look like that or for him to have quite sizable biceps. Even if I had thought about him romantically, I hadn't really thought about him sexually, but now, when I saw more skin than I had asked for, the emotions hit me in the face like I had run into a wall.
Henry fixed his clothes but also lightly scratched a burn on the inside of his forearm. It felt like a stress thing, and while he followed me to my room, I could hear him scratch the dry skin. I sat down on my bed after having made it quickly. I could see that Henry didn't know if it was okay for him to sit down, so I patted the spot next to me. He sat down and stretched his long legs. He braided his fingers together in his lap.
βI'm sorry for what I saidβ¦ I didn't mean it in a bad way, and I didn't know you would react like thatβ¦ You smell so good. I mean it. Ehmβ¦β He dragged his hand over his face and rubbed his eye. βYou smell like lavender. It's really calming and nice.β
I felt my stomach knot together as soon as he started to talk, but it was like it burned up when he said his beautiful words. A fire had been lit in my belly and warmed me up from the inside.
βI didn't know they were such loaded words for you. I just mean that I can feel like a dog sometimes, feeling emotions and so on just as clearly as a dog can smellβ¦β
I smiled while looking down at his hands but also took in everything he said.
βI forgive you, Henry; it's justβ¦ A feeling that I have sometimes. That people can smell the cancer.β
Henry looked at me with big, regretful eyes.
βYou smell so nice. I could smell you all day.β
I laughed at him, and it made him smile so his dimple got deep. Carefully he took my hand in his. It was big, warm, and safe. Such a hand you want to hold when you're sad. Or happy, just like I was now.
βBut you canβ¦ Sense people's feelings and health?
Henry made a doubtful smile but still nodded.
βMy mom had these sorts of βgiftsβ... I never really believed her, but then, when I had moved away Iβ¦ I don't know, I felt them too. I don't really know what to do with it andβ¦ I think few would believe me. I didn't believe my mom.β He laughed awkwardly and hugged my hand in his.
βMaybe you don't believe me.β
βI do. I do. I meanβ¦ You knew. You knew about my disease.β
We looked at each other for a long time. It felt like a moment for a kiss, but instead he yawned widely.
βI'm sorry, I'm not used to being up this time of day.β
I laughed and tried to hide the disappointment. I really thought we would kiss.
βMe neither. We can take a nap?β
He looked down at my bed, and I could see how tempted he was. Even before answering, he had crawled away and laid down on one of my pillows. I laughed at him and made him smile wide again.
βCome here,β he said and stretched out his arms towards me.
ΓΓΓ
I woke up as the little spoon in front of Henry, who snored so low I first didn't hear it. His arm lay around my waist while I pushed his hand against my chest, between my breasts. In my sleep it had been nothing, but now it felt so intimate. It was years ago I even hugged a guy I was attracted to. A warm stream ran down to my sex by feeling his hips pushed against mine. I didn't want to move, but still I did. It was too good to be true. I sat up and looked down at him. My movement had made him stir, and slowly he opened his eyes and looked at me with the brightest eyes and his lips pouting. He was unbelievably cute.
I looked at the clock to think about anything else. We had slept for 50 minutes, and we had fallen asleep fast. It was probably the best sleep I've had for ages.
βMaybe I should goβ¦β He sat up a bit groggy and licked his dry lips over and over. βDo you want to see me again?β
He looked up at me under his brows, and it made me giggle.
βAbsolutely. But do you have a phone? Then we can exchange numbers?β
βYeah, but I always forget it. Or it diesβ¦β
He talked like he came from another time or at least was 80 years old.
βWhat?β He asked in a silly way when he saw me hold in a laugh.
βYou're justβ¦ So different.β
He smiled amusedly and shrugged his shoulders.
βDo you want my number or not?β He pretended to be annoyed, but he was bad at it and couldn't hide his giddy ways.
βYes, please, Mr. Pearl!β I joked with a British accent. βJust give me something!β I said like I was a starving Oliver Twist. It made him laugh so hard that he threw his head back.
βYeah, yeah. Elysia Bauer, I will give you my number as long as I get yours too.β
Both of us giggled when we exchanged numbers, and I dared touch his hand and even his knee while we did it. He dragged his hand over my forearm, and where we said goodbye, he gave me a hug. It was our first one, and it felt so good my eyes teared up.
ΓΓΓ
It took some days for us to see each other again, but it was okay because we could actually set a time and we could even text a little. It was obvious he wasn't much for it because it became just standard phrases, but he did emojis, sometimes even a hugging one.
When we met three days later, he gave me a hug. A long hug. It felt so good, and even better it felt when he complimented my natural hair. I had styled it a bit to get texture but had also cut the bangs myself. It was actually cute, and he made me realize that.
I thought he maybe would have commented on my lavender scent, especially because I used more of the oil. It was the oil he had sensed before, and I used it every night to calm myself down. Now I would use it all the time.
Henry looked at the house on the street where he met me.
βThese houses are prettyβ¦ I like the pink one.β
I giggled a little and nodded.
βThat's my favorite tooβ¦ I wish I could live in a house. And have a yard.β
Henry looked down at me while we continued to walk towards the outskirts of town.
βHave you lived in a house?
βAll my childhood. Then my parents divorced, and I moved in with my cousin, and thenβ¦ Yeah, the cancerβ¦β
Henry nodded. It looked like he was thinking about something deeply, and a few seconds later I got to know what.
βDo you want to see my home? I've seen yours.β
In reality he had just seen my hallway and bedroom, but I wouldn't protest. It was exciting to actually see where he spent his time when he wasn't with me. He neither had a job, so he probably was home as much as I.
βI would love to.β
βI live a bit unorthodox, though.β
βOh?β
βOr unorthodox; it's just the building that is a bit special. I live in a collective. We're fifteen people living together.β
βFifteen?β There were a lot of people, and I could feel the apartment was crowded just when my mom was home. βHowβ¦ Why do you live with them? I don't mean anythingβ"
βI've traveled around a lot, and I guess I found comfort there. They understand me and my needs, and we look at the world in similar waysβ¦β
βOhβ¦ That sounds nice.β
It didn't, really. I would have never lived with fifteen other people. For a moment I wondered if he maybe didn't have the courage to just tell me he lived in some sort of institution; maybe he needed help to care for his wounds? Then more realistic thoughts crept on to me. I looked at his profile when we were walking. He was smiling, and I got the feeling he was happy I seemed to accept his living arrangements.
We continued to walk over the fields to our goal: his home. We talked about what we had done those days we hadn't met. I had been at a work interview while he had gone away to Jackson to celebrate a friend and also buy new paint. The conversation was cozy and comforting, but I still looked around interestingly when we turned right on the path just next to the bench we had been sitting on so many times. We walked through the trees where I had seen the path end, when I had been sitting on the bench, but it continued a bit forward. I hadn't understood how small the area with trees actually was and was surprised to see the path open up after just 30 feet. I hadn't thought about what was after the trees, and I hadn't thought Henry lived so close by, but there it was, his home.
On a big open field, under the crescent moon, was a large white building. It was an old manor, so big it looked like a castle. Someone had been wild enough to build wooden towers on the stone building, and from a distance it looked like a Disney castle, but up close it looked like a project by an eccentric. In the dark it looked crooked and like it moved with the wind.
Henry laughed when he saw my reaction.
βIt looks weirder than it is. It's because they've painted the towers both yellow and green on a white building. It was an owner in the 1930s that went a bit wild.β
I nodded and tried to take it in. It was beautiful though, like if Pippi Longstocking had a castle. I smiled at him and then saw the sign standing on the side. Henry saw what I looked at, and together we went up to it.
It stood on two legs to the side of the house, welcoming visitors. It was made of old brown wood but had a motif of a dark forest and a white, full, glowing moon. It was a beautiful painting.
βThat's us. The house, but also us who live here,β said he with a warm smile towards me.
I read the cursive letters over the motif written in silver.
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