First time

They don't talk, ever.

Jo is fairly certain he and Ethan check in, once a year, like old friends with a deep past.

A complicated past.

Complicated by her and harry, by their, whatever you could call it.

True love or something fairy tale like that, but real ones, grimm.

In any case, since his alumni show and apart from her sad tracking of his rising career, they don't communicate, don't commune. She feels him sometimes, knows he must be home at his mother's but blessedly, she never crosses his golden path in the village. Jo is lucky like that.

Her lucky strike was golden even, still sometimes. Like on the morning she woke up to a beep on her phone, just at dawn, a message from an unknown number.

The artist was familiar, beloved, but one she decidedly did not listen to. In fact, when she went into her music app to play the song she noticed she'd missed several releases and then remembered she'd turned off her notifications after a moment's silence crossed her conciousness and something dormant, a sleeping giant, awoke in her chest and core in a way that unsettled her so greatly she had to. After she set up a tinder date in Manchester, scratched the itch and moved on with her life.

He might have been younger with long brown locks. She might have forgotten  his name, or just called out the one that was right for her when she came.  They parted amicably, and she never texted him again, Andrew, and she changed her preference so the other Andrew stayed off her playlists.

It could only be from him.

"Jesus!" She swore, prayed. Did she write this, did he? A whole song about how the first time a Lover called them baby they were killed and resurrected new.

She spent the rest of the day listening. Yeah, wasteland baby would not have been ok. She would not have been ok, if she listened to this when it came out. Too sexy, too in love. She'd been in love then, but alone.

She supposed those two things were still true, but the ache was bearable now. A pleasant soreness, like muscles used after a good gym session, not like her flesh had been ripped from her body and she was walking around raw, not anymore.

The new album must be about a relationships end with the love still in tact. My god, it really felt like they wrote this. It was like Hozier always wrote for them.

Should she text him back? Block him? Send a nude photo?

Jo laughed at herself for the last one. Yeah, that would be a terrible idea. She wondered if he was loved up. She didn't think so, if he texted her. But Cidra may have been right, did it really matter, his usual faithful spirit when confronted with their wine?

Best not to risk it then. He made her drunk and powerless to her desire for his body, his self. She didn't think it was ego to assume she made him a little off his face too.

Best not to think of his face either.

Jo really wanted to respond in some way though.

'Truly' was all she responded.

She stared at gray dots as they appeared, disappeared, reappeared, then went away.

God, what if it wasn't harry?

Well, she was a cat with it's neck extended for a chop, she had to know.

After a cup of tea and busy work, not the office stuff she was doing to get on with her life and finish what could be her very last semester at the university, if the summer festivals and shows went well for her sales. she opened the two line text field again.

'I really love francesca.'

'I did too.' Came through immediately.

Did? The song was current. Jo supposed if this was harry, then she was francesca. Did. Did?

'I do.' Came through then.

Jo's heart flew up into her throat to the spaces between her teeth at that.

'Harry?' She had to confirm, though it
Was painfully obvious.

"Hello miss Jo.'

She stared at that for so long her eyes blurred, runneth over.

She wanted to type- "hello lover." But didn't. Instead, 'alright?' Was where she landed. It seemed to cover so much, was casual if he wanted, or so much more if he needed. As open ended at least as sending a song.

It seemed he needed hours to really reply.

A day.

Two.

She assumed it was over, their shared madness, again, until the third day, like a stone rolling away from
A tomb, he texted, a picture.

A baby, tiny, with auburn fuzz against his beloved tattooed chest.

"Fuck, fuck." Jo gnashed her teeth? Wailed and wished it was night and not dawn. God, it was all she had wanted for him. It hurt so bad she didn't get out of bed until her ten year old came to ask if she was going to school or not, with a hopeful gleam.

"Yeah, just give me a mo."

"Mum, are you crying? Is Ethan ok?" And then Zoe was in bed with her. Jo cried for just a minute into her chest, her last baby, that wasn't Harry's.

"Yea, poppet. I just got some wonderful
News."

"It doesn't look like it was wonderful." Zoe gave her a scared look.

"Maybe not wonderful for me, entirely, but what was right, best." She smoothed her daughters light brown hair back. "No worry, mommy's sickie doesn't mean you get one. Let's try to get out the door close to on time."

Zoe looked dubious, but then said, "will you make us tea and toast?" And jo knew it was really for her, though Zoe could probably use the comfort too. Must be frightening to see your mother fall apart in a way you dont fully remember her doing.

After she's gotten zoe to school and called off for the day, she arranges to go for boozy brunch with cidra, thanks god she is a cheshire kept woman, and texts Ethan.

'Did you know?' She's not sure if she should attach the picture, if he will even have a notion of what she is on about.

There's no need. "Sorry mum! Yeah, isn't it wonderful?" The question is an honest one.

Yes, yes. It's wonderful. Ethan brings her back to earth with that text. It makes her pull on her Big girl panties, which she still doesn't wear.

"Yes, yes. It's wonderful. What i hoped for him."

Ethan had loved her comment and she had reopened the thread occupying burj kalifa space in her mind.

"Im so, so happy for you!" Exclamation. 'They are beautiful.'

'Thanks. I needed to hear it from you.'

She loved the text and tried to move on with her life.

A week later, another text from the unnamed number. 'Been painting.'

It was her, his version, holding a different baby. One with darker brown hair and the curve of her chin. "Oh Harry!" She said aloud but only to herself.

She closed the text field then. Left it at that.

Jo knew he was so happy, overjoyed to be a dad, as she was for him. She could feel it.

The mourning though, caught her flat footed and red eyed. Based on his paintings she assumed him too.

She never responded. What was there to say?

A month on, another text. 'Did you have a favorite?'

'A favorite?'

'Song' he responded.

'Unknown' she said. It wasn't true, but for him, them, it was. She loved first time.

But, being unknown, by Harry, yeah- that song resonated.

'You?' She sent before she thought better of it.

'All things end.' Did he mean them, his current relationship, dreams? She didnt ask, just responded.

'Indeed.'