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Pushing the pasta around his plate, Harvey nods quietly as Donna speaks, occasionally mumbling a response. The fork makes a high-pitched screech when it runs across the ceramic plate, and he winces at the sound. He's worn out from the road trip with Samantha—driving twelve hours in one day is no joke, and this is all too much for him. He yawns, exhausted, but apparently, it's a bad time.
"Harvey, is there something wrong?" his partner asks, a bit annoyed that he hasn't been paying attention. She understands he's tired, but he's missed a chaotic day of work and needs to be updated. She reaches her hand over the table to gently touch his hand in reassurance. They rest their hands on the table, and Harvey looks up from his food for the first time the entire night.
"Sorry," he murmurs, apologetic. "I'm just thinking about Sam and her dad. It's been a long day."
Donna nods understandingly as he holds her hand, squeezing it for a moment before withdrawing to his glass of wine. He takes a long drink then sets it down, his thumb running over the side of the glass. The wine ripples softly, and he looks at it, deep in thought, until it returns to stillness.
She watches his every move with astuteness; Donna knows what the problem is, but maybe she shouldn't say it. Is it her place? Surely it is, she's been dating him for over a month and has known him for nearly twenty years. Softly, she treads on the topic.
"Harvey...maybe you should—"
"Do you want to go visit my dad with me?"
He interrupts her, but they were going to say practically the same thing anyway. Harvey looks at her with his dark brown eyes, showing no hesitation or doubt. He's serious. For once, Donna thinks to herself, I don't have to tell him what to do. She's proud.
Unfortunately, he's not completely there yet. She'll give him a few more years, but for now, she shakes her head, "I think...I think this is something you should do for yourself."
"What?" he asks, puzzled.
"You need this time to speak to your dad," Donna explains trying to contain her laughter, her head tilting from shoulder to shoulder. "Maybe tell him some things he's missed out on. Like, you know...when you slept with your therapist."
"Is everyone going to make fun of me for that?"
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
"Oh, that's a good one, Harvey!" Gordon cheers, as they watch the baseball soar across the fence, "Home run!"
His father claps as Harvey swings the bat over onto his shoulder, letting it rest there. He smirks mischievously and bows. "What can I say? I was supposed to play D1 baseball."
"Was supposed to. You think years without practice would make you forget," Gordon laughs, as he pulls another baseball out the basket, preparing to pitch it to his son. "Ready up!"
"Ready," the brunet smiles as he goes into the batter's box and gets into his stance. When his dad throws it, he hits it cleanly; he knows it's a good hit, satisfied by the sound of leather on wood. The ball flies out of the field again. Two home runs in a row. His shoulder hurts, but he missed this. He doesn't want to stop.
Unfortunately, Gordon knows his son's limits. He tosses his mitt into the basket and kicks it up, wheeling it over to Harvey, who lets the bat drop to his side. He's deflated, but Gordon knows better than to succumb to his son's puppy dog eyes.
"C'mon," his father says, rolling his eyes, "Wheel this over to the van. I have some beers in the trunk."
He hands Harvey the basket and car keys before wandering off to grab the home runs. Left to his own devices, Harvey obeys his father and goes to the van.
After a few paces, the lawyer is at his father's van, where he pops open the trunk and tosses the basket in. Gordon joins him shortly after, putting the two balls into the basket before pulling out the cooler with a grunt. He grabs two beers, handing them to Harvey who opens them with the bottle opener on his father's keys. One is quickly handed back to him.
"Cheers," Gordon smiles, as he sits inside the van's trunk. Harvey hops on next to him.
"Cheers."
They clink their bottles.
The two drink silently, the heat getting to their heads. They're getting far too old for these kinds of games. Maybe next time they should settle for a bar date.
Breaking the silence, Gordon clears his throat, looking over at his son who raises his eyebrow in curiosity. It's clear his dad wants to say something.
"You seeing anyone lately?"
God.
Harvey bluntly replies, "No."
"I just want you to be happy, kid."
"I know," the brunet says, taking a large swig of his beer. He might need another drink—something harder than this shitty, watered-down beer. "I just want to focus on work right now."
"What about that Donna girl?"
"How do you know her name?"
Gordon shrugs. "Life works in mysterious ways."
"Shut up," Harvey grins, "she called you about my promotion, didn't she?"
His father lifts his hands up, beer in one hand. Guilty as charged.
"There's nothing going on between us," the brunet says, "I don't think there'll ever be."
Pulling into the cemetery parking lot, Harvey puts his car in park and takes out the keys. For a moment, he sits in the car and looks at the cemetery gate, emitting a large sigh. Shaking out of it, he reaches into the backseat and grabs a picnic basket before exiting the car, going to his father's grave. Even after all these years, it hurts to look at the headstone.
GORDON SPECTER
FATHER, MUSICIAN, JOY.
REST IN PEACE.
His fingers briefly trace over the letters, imprinting them into his memory once more. It causes him to frown, but he pushes down the heartache as he places the picnic basket on the ground, pulling out a blanket and sitting on it.
He's not sure where to start. His voice is dry from not talking for three hours, so he opts to instead begin with the ceremonial drink. He reaches for a bottle of scotch from the basket along with two glasses. He pours one for his father and one for himself. Placing one glass by Gordon's headstone, he clinks it with his glass before taking a big sip.
"It's been a while, hasn't it," he says to no one in particular.
"Last time I hung out with you...shit was going down at the firm. Well, shit is always going down at the firm. Last time it was Sam and Alex's competition, wasn't it? I think so."
He pauses for a moment as if he's expecting a response. He drinks to fill the gaps.
"Now, they're both name partners. Specter Litt Wheeler Williams. A mouthful, I know. It used to be Zane Specter Litt Wheeler Williams, but that didn't last long. I messed up again. Not with Mike, this time. Don't know if you remember...but he's gone. He's been gone for two years. He paid me a visit, God. That's a fucking mess. ...but yeah. I messed up, with Donna again, of course. I told her something I shouldn't have...she told someone something she shouldn't have...it all went downhill.
"Zane...he took the fall. He shouldn't have, but he said he was ready to retire. The shit people do for me, Dad. I don't think I deserve it. You'd say I do, but I'd fight you on that and win. I'm the lawyer. ...In any case, it's fine now. Everything is okay. Okay in the loosest sense. The firm has a babysitter now. Her name is Faye Richardson.
"We're watched pretty closely. We can't do any of the bullshit we usually do. Sam tried. Now she's out of a job, but really, that was my fault too. I got angry...I yelled at her in the office when I could've done it anywhere else. But we've both accepted it. She'll be fine. She was a corporate lawyer, for Christ's sake. She could've quit working ages ago. She'll be back once Richardson is gone though. I guarantee you that much.
"I met her dad a few days ago. Great guy. He had to give her up...he couldn't take care of her. She still accepted him with open arms. She's a fighter. I don't know if I could do that...especially when I couldn't...with mom…until Donna told me I needed to."
Harvey sighs, looking up at the sky. He wonders if his father can hear him. He never really went to church or believed in God, but he'd like to think there was some force out there looking out for him. He finishes off his drink and takes his dad's.
"In other, better news," he laughs, realizing he's dealt with far too much crap this past year, "Marcus is opening up a new restaurant in the city. Boston isn't big enough for him. After everything with Katie, he really channeled his passion into his kids and restaurant. He had to prove it to her that he could be better than whatever he was. It worked, I think.
"Mom's art studio is doing well. She's selling more paintings than usual, but I'm pretty sure that's just Marcus buying paintings for his restaurant. You know, what she doesn't know makes her stronger. Or whatever that saying is. Her art is still as weird as it used to be. I don't know why people like it, but it's...it's good that her business is doing well. I'm happy for her. I know she loves teaching, but she loves making art more.
"And...me? I'm settling down with someone. I think you can guess who."
The brunet digs around in the picnic basket and pulls out a small, Tiffany blue jewelry box. He opens it and shows the ring to his father's headstone.
"Her name is Donna."
Shutting the case and putting it back in the basket, he leans back on his hands and looks up at the blue sky as he speaks. "I remember when I told you nothing would happen. You know, I slept with her once before that. We could've been something, but I don't think we would've lasted. I told her she could work for me instead of us dating."
"It's different now. I've known it for a long time, but I was too afraid to admit it...but she's my person, Dad. I feel like you're laughing at me because you called it...what? Fourteen years ago? God. It's been forever."
He grabs his glass and drinks once more, feeling the alcohol burn the back of his throat. He wishes Gordon was here with him, to share this drink...to share these memories. He was gone too fucking soon. One day, Harvey's going to have kids and his dad won't be there to see it.
"I haven't told her about it yet, but she knows I'll propose one day. It wasn't really on the agenda, but I think I'm ready for it. If there's anyone I want to marry, it's Donna. Hope that's okay."
Harvey sits back up, feeling tears form in his eyes. Quickly, he wipes them away on his t-shirt's sleeve, rubbing at his eyes with his upper arm. No, he can't cry here. That's embarrassing.
"You would've liked her," he says, his voice cracking, "...she would've loved you."
"I hope you're proud of me."