chapter nine      Ellie walked through the gardens for a few moments before Will came bounding up next to her.      "I couldn't help but overhear parts of your conversation with Harry," he said as he locked stride with her.      "That's because you were eavesdropping."      "Was not!" he said, with mock indignation.      "Yes you were, admit it!"      "Okay, maybe a little," she looked at him with a 'puh-lease' kind of face, "okay, maybe a lot." She laughed.      "So what did you think?"      "You've made a lot of progress, I suppose."      "You suppose?"      "Yeah, I mean, I didn't really know that was having trouble with all that stuff, so I'm not really sure where he was starting from."      "Okay, enough about Harry, let's talk about you." He nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets.      "All right."      "Let's start with the same question I asked your brother, why?"      "Wait a minute," he said stopping dead in his tracks, "I didn't smoke pot."      "No, but for four years you haven't talk about your mother, I don't think you've even fully grieved for her yet."      "So, what's the question?"      "WHY?"      "Why haven't I grieved?" she nodded. "I don't know," he said, running his hand through his hair, "Maybe because I had to be strong for Harry, I had to protect him."      "He doesn't need protecting anymore, he's ready to go it alone."      "Oh yeah, sure! He definitely proved that when he got high at that party!"      "That was a warning sign, not a sign of irresponsibility. There's a difference!"      "Oh, really? Gee, I must be blind cause I don't see it!"      "That's because you only see what you want to see when it comes to him."      "What's that supposed to mean?"      "He's not twelve anymore Will! You have to let him grow up! You have to realize that he can do this by himself!"      "What? Are you saying that I'm afraid to let him grow up?"      "No, you're afraid to let him go." He stared at her for a moment, his face rigid with tension. "Will," she said softly, walking towards him. He stepped back and put his hand up. "Don't do that, don't act like that; c'mon."      "No," he said firmly. "You're job is to help Harry, not to tell me what I'm doing wrong! I was doing damn fine before you waltzed in here!"      "You're right," she said softly, letting her shoulders slump. "My job is not to tell you what you're doing wrong. Which is why I'm not doing that."      "You don't give up do you?"      "No! I don't! And I really don't take kindly to someone telling me what my job is and what it isn't! I know what I'm supposed to do, but helping Harry doesn't end with him it begins with you!" Both of their emotions were running high and they were both lit fuses ready to blow up any minute.      "Well, if you're not here to tell me what I'm doing wrong then why did you just say that I'm not ready to let him go?"      "Because you aren't Will! Can't you see? When you're mom died the reason you didn't fully grieve is because you automatically became a surrogate mother to Harry. You protected him; you scolded him, praised him, lauded him, and loved him. But, in doing that you prevented him from screwing up."      "And that's a bad thing?"      "In his case, yes! He fears failure."      "So I heard."      "He needs to fall on his face, mess-up, look like a jackass every now and then. He has to learn not to fear failure. He has to learn that you won't always be there with a safety net, ready to catch him. Do you understand now?"      "Kinda."      "You're a great brother Will, no one is doubting or debating that. What we are dealing with is over-protectiveness. You have to learn to let go. Let him make his own decisions. You've done your job, it's time to give him a little push; cause if you don't he'll never learn to fly on his own."      "That's not as easy as it sounds."      "I know. It's going to take a lot of trust and patience and understanding. He has to find his own voice, to know who he is." He stared at her for a while.      "Are you this persistent with all your patients?"      "Yes." He made a little 'hmm' sound and kicked at the dirt.      "No wonder you're successful."      "I beg your pardon? Are you complimenting me?"      "Yes, is that so hard to believe?"      "A bit, yes. Two minutes ago you looked angry enough to take my head off!" He smiled.      "It's all part of my charm." She scoffed.      "Gee…I see now why all those girls throw themselves at you!" He laughed.      "You're a pain in the ass, but you're an honest pain in the ass who's not afraid to put up a fight. I like that."      "Thank you, I think."      "So what's next?"      "I think we've talked about enough for today…"      "No, we've talked enough about Harry today; we haven't even started on me."      "I thought that wasn't my job."      "It's not, but do it anyways."      "On two conditions."      "What?"      "You have to be completely honest and forthcoming."      "And?"      "And, you can't get mad at me!"      "Oh come on! Now you're just taking all the fun out of it!"      "Too bad."      "All right, all right, you have a deal."      "Okay, let's start with something easy. What do you want in life?"      "That's easy?"      "Yep." He let out a long huff.      "What do I want?" he muttered softly, mostly to himself. They walked several feet before he began to answer. "I want peace."      "That's it?"      "Stability, privacy, intimacy, the list goes on forever."      "Intimacy?"      "Nothing's worse then falling for someone, only to know that by doing anything you're turned her into front page news. There's this enormous amount of guilt, it's terrible."      "I'm sure it is. But what you described was privacy; I asked about intimacy."      "For me the two are the same. I can't have one without the other."      "I think that goes for all people. Our most private, intimate moments deserve to be private."      "I totally agree, but everything I do, gets reported. I could be walking down the street, all by myself, and a complete stranger who happens to be a woman walks by me. All of a sudden a photographer snaps a picture, and then this complete stranger and I automatically become something. It's stupid, frustrating and incredibly unfair."      "Your brother and I talked about the same topic."      "And I bet Harry said that I always tell him not to worry, it will all work out fine."      "Yes he did."      "And now you want to ask me why I don't follow my own advice, right?"      "Yes I do."      "Because, it's easy in theory, but it's hard in real life."      "That's how most decisions are. Those kind of decisions usually involve the 'right thing'."      "It's just that sometimes I wish I could just scream."      "About what?"      "Nothing, just scream, you know? Let out a big yell!"      "Then why don't you, it would probably be really healthy for you."      "I don't know, I guess cause I have to 'maintain my composure' and all."      "Screw composure, it never helped anybody!" He laughed.      "Yeah, I guess you're right. But, my family operates a tad different than everyone else's."      "I know, but their still your family, so they should understand that sometimes you just have to do things, not because they're right or politically correct, but because they'll help you."      "So I need to yell."      "Yes, you need to yell, yell till it hurts!" He smiled. He was getting excited, and he was finally beginning to get really relaxed around her. He didn't fear her anymore, and most important he didn't fear what he felt anymore.      "Okay." Will took a sharp right turn and headed towards an open field, Ellie followed suit. Once he was a good distance out, he stopped. Ellie, some ten feet behind him, watched as he braced himself, threw his head back and let out a loud, long yell. She giggled; he looked like a preppy Tarzan, standing with his arms out stretched, head back, yelling. Birds were flying up out of the grass and out of trees because of the noise he was making. He continued to yell for nearly two minutes. When he was finally done, he turned to her with a wicked, satisfied smile. "You were right, that did feel good," he said, his voice a little raw.      "Don't you feel better now?"      "Yeah, I do," he replied, his face softening, his voice returning to its more serious tone. They stood, facing each other for minutes, he, standing there, hands in his pockets, staring he his feet or out at the field, periodically; she, arms crossed about her chest, chewing on her bottom lip every now and then. She could tell that he wanted, needed to say something, he was just too afraid to do it.      "Will? You okay?" she asked, her voice, soft, mellow, comforting. She walked over to him and put her hands on his arms. He looked away from her. She knew what was coming. "It's okay…" she whispered, enveloping him in a hug. Immediately, as if she had flipped a switch, he hugged her and cried.      They stood there, in the middle of the field, holding each other, weeping… .:. back