Page 51 of The Masks We Wear

“I don’t listen to music, remember?”

I give him a look that saysyou’re full of shit.“I mean before you didn’t listen to music. When you were fun to be around. Maybe when you were a kid or an angry teen.”

Harvey scoffs, his eyes lowering to the keys and my fingers where they rest on them. He pauses to think for a few seconds and I let him. I don’t know much about his past but I get the vibe he doesn’t like to talk about it or think about it. Maybe asking him a question like that wasn’t the best idea.

He inhales, “‘Mad World’ by Michael Andrews,” his expression closes off and his body tenses as he makes the admission.

I frown. “That song is sad,” is all I say. Why was Harveylistening to sad music when he was a kid? Why was that the first thing his mind goes to when he thinks of his childhood? That song came out in 2001 and Harvey would’ve been six. I feel an invisible hand reach into my chest and squeeze my heart. I open my mouth to…what? Comfort him? Reassure him? Judging by the hard set of his jaw, that’s the last thing he wants from me right now so instead, I do the only thing I know how to do, play the piano.

I play the song, my fingers moving slowly from key to key. After the first few notes, I start to sing the lyrics to him. I keep my voice low, hoping it comes out soothing but judging from the pained expression on his face when I look at him and find him staring at the keys like they just kicked his dog, I stop playing. “Don’t stop,” he whispers.

I hesitantly start playing again. I’m not sure when the energy between us became jaded or so dark, and I wholeheartedly don’t like it. I play as requested and when I finish the song, I fold my hands in my lap, removing them from the keys. I wait for him to speak and the silence between us feels louder than any concert I’ve ever performed at. I don’t dare speak, not sure how he’d react. I’ve never seen him this way. He seems like he went somewhere else and the last thing I want to do is say anything that could throw him over the edge.

He finally breaks the silence by blurting, “My mother used to play that on a loop when my father left.”

My eyebrows rise so high they practically shoot off my face in surprise. Is he…opening up to me and willingly sharing information he usually keeps so guarded? I jump on the opportunity to learn more about the man before me, more about the boy he was and how he ended up the way he is. What made Harvey Taylor so cold and dedicated to his job? “How old were you when he left?” I ask.

He still refuses to meet my eyes. “Six. It was right before thissong came out,” he smiles in a far-off way, almost detached. “I remember the night he left. They got into a huge fight, one of many they had at the time, but surely the worst. It was over money. He packed up all his shit and left that night and I waited by the window every day for months, hoping he would come back and he never did. I never saw him again.”

I feel my heart tearing in two for him. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, reaching out hesitantly to grab his hand. He lets me, squeezing my hand gently. “I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like,” I say, compassionately.

“I didn’t misshim. I missed having a father. I didn’t want to be alone with my mother. It was just me and her after that, struggling to manage to get food on the table.” He takes a deep breath. “My mom isn’t a bad person, she’s just misguided and too dependent on men. When my father left, in a way she started to depend on me for everything. Of course, I wasn’t making any money because I was a kid, but she relied on me to take care of her and when she started bringing home new boyfriends every week, she and I grew apart. She needed them more than she needed me,” he finally looks up to meet my eyes.

“You never wanted to find your father? To reconnect?” I ask, hoping I don’t come across like I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.

He shakes his head, a crease forming between his brows. “Never. He was a deadbeat and the only thing he ever did for me was upset my mother and leave me to clean up the mess he left behind when he had outbursts and broke things in the house.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,” is all I can manage.

“The day I realized he was never coming back was the day I realized I would have to be better than he ever was and I would have to leave behind more than he could’ve ever imagined,” he explains. He rests his head against mine, “I pushed myself todo so well in school, to be the best in the class, the best on my sports teams, the best at everything. Lucy was born when I was fifteen. My mom got knocked up by one of her boyfriends and just like everyone before him, he split, leaving my pregnant mother alone to fend for herself,” he caresses the back of my hand with his thumb as he continues, “I started working to help her pay the bills and by the time Lucy was born, all it took was one look at her and I knew I was gone. I had closed myself off so much already at that point that when I saw my baby sister, the ice around my heart melted. I knew immediately I would give anything for her, be anything for her, and do anything for her. I also knew my mom would make Lucy my responsibility in only a matter of time so she could get back out and find a new temporary boyfriend and I was right. I practically raised her on my own.”

I reassure him, “You did an amazing job with her. She’s an amazing kid.”

He sighs, “Thank you.”

I look up at him, gripping his jaw in my hands, his short beard scratching against my palms. “I mean it, Harvey. She knows how much you love her, I can see it in her eyes when she looks at you and I can also see how much she lovesyou. You are the center of her entire world.”

He smiles weakly and it looks pained in a way. “For a long time, I didn’t think she would ever forgive me. I thought she hated me for leaving her with our mother.”

I tilt my head, “You left her?”

He squeezes his eyes shut as if the memory causes emotional turmoil, “When I turned eighteen I enlisted in the army. I wanted to be independent, free of my mother. We just weren’t getting along at the time at all and I made an impulsive decision to sign the contract and I remember the day I left, my mother couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye to me. Lucy wasabsolutely devastated. She was only three at the time but I thought the older she got, the more she would grow to resent me.”

“You were wrong, Harvey. She loves you,” I reassure him again, hoping the repetition will stick.

He gives me a look of exhaustion. “She didn’t for a while. I was away for years and she was stuck with my mom. It worked for me, I liked being alone, living my own life for me. But every day, I felt the guilt grow for leaving her alone.”

“It wasn’t your responsibility to raise Lucy. It was your mother’s. You shouldn’t have felt guilty for living your own life,” I say emotionally.

He shakes his head, “I know that now. I felt guilt at the time,” he throws his head back in a gesture of being mentally tired. “I left the army when I was twenty-three. I missed Lucy too much and I knew I would later regret not being in her life, in watching her grow. She was eight when I came back and it took hermonthsto forgive me. It was a lot of work, a lot of bribing her with her favorite toys and candy, but eventually she did. When she did, I was onto the next thing, making money. I started up my security company and from there it took off. I was a military guy through and through and it showed in my work ethic and business ethics. My company got so big and then one day I decided to take a step back. I was already a multi-millionaire at the time and I was only working to grow more funds. I sold the company for a ridiculously large amount of money so that I could do what I’m doing now.”

I bat my eyelashes at him in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Babysit little old me?”

He breathes a laugh, “Yes, you and all the other mentally deranged celebrities whose managers call me as a cry for help.”

I swat his arm playfully, “Hey! I’m not mentally deranged. I’m just…eccentric.”

He kisses my head and laughs, “You’re definitely something. I’ve never met anyone like you and I never will again.”

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