I suppose I should admit that I am more hypocritical than I lead on to be, but we all are. We all contradict ourselves at least once in our lives, where we say something and then do that precise thing. I always said that love was a fluke, and you couldn't fully fall in love again when your heart breaks, but then again, I'm not exactly an expert in that field. Per say, the heart finds a way to heal itself, to slowly but surely pull itself back together, and there comes a time where your smiles aren't so fake anymore, and you don't feel like crying every time someone mentions the name of your loved one, you half start to feel like a human again, not just like a zombie. There was a time when this happened, where in a sense, I was starting to enjoy myself again, and relish the hallucinations my s-disorder conjured up. For once I wasn't feeling completely down and out when I woke up, because most of my dreams were about her, I felt great, I felt like a new person, like a snake I had shed a skin, and it was time to start fresh. When Jude and Aubella saw me up at eight in the morning on a Saturday, absolutely all smiles, preparing them some breakfast, Jude almost panicked, and said "where is my father and what have you done with him?"

"Jude, calm down," I said, laughing softly, "I'm just happy."

"Father, this is scary." Aubella replied sardonically.

"Seriously though, what happened, are you sedated or something?" Jude asked.

"No, Jude, I don't have a tranquilizer in my system, nor any other medication of that sort. I just woke up feeling great." I replied.

"Well, it's going to rain blood today. It's the end of the world." Jude said, a certain tone of panic to his voice. Aubella smacked him on the shoulder, and he pulled a face, as she laughed.

"Be nice, his arm is broken." I said, laughing as well.

"I didn't push him off the chair, did I?" She replied innocently as Jude rubbed at his shoulder.

"Not quite, but still, he's like a fragile flower now." I said, passing both of them glasses of juice. Jude went a notable red, and groaned.

"FATHER. Please. Stop!" He exclaimed as Aubella resumed her laughing.

"Not only is he gay, but he's also a delicate flower! This is wonderful, thank you father, my day has been made!" She said, all smiles as Jude tried not to throw himself off the chair. That was how my son came out of the closet. Or rather how his sister pushed him out. I'd always known Jude wasn't straight, I mean, I'm his father, when he told me for the first time he didn't want a blue shirt for his birthday or that his favourite colour was purple. I also recall several awkward session where Jude shot fond glares at some boy coming over to our apartment. I was an accepting person, I didn't have the narrow-minded, eye-flaps view that most had. I accepted him over breakfast in New York. And that really was that. Jude was gay, a homo, a queer, and that was that.

"Jude, you know I love you." I said, with a smile, passing him some of the breakfast.

"You're the worst father ever." He said sardonically, taking a long sip of his juice.

Later that day, around eight p.m., when Jude, Aubella and I were sitting around the telly, trying to find something to watch that didn't bore us to death, my phone rung. An unknown number illuminated the screen, I was fairly used to this, since I had unknown numbers calling me all the time for enquiries and what not, so I pressed the answer button.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Harry? Oh, God, please let this be Harry, if it's not I swear I'm going to hurl myself off the Brooklyn bridge." A voice on the other side rung in my ears, I recognized it as June, the woman I met earlier that week.

"Let's not be reckless, shall we?" I said, laughing a little, only because it felt easier than breathing.

"Thank God, Harry, I'm really sorry to bother, but you said I could call whenever, and well, now's whenever, um- can you maybe, or not, wait this is way too much to ask." She said, disregarding her suggestion, I noticed the panic lacing her voice, and her uneven breathing.

"Alright, June, first thing, I need you to please calm down. Breathe, anxiety's never good for a woman like you, so just take a couple of deep breaths and tell me what's going on." I stated calmly, and she took a couple breaths on the other side of the line.

"Well, my boyfriend flipped out, kicked me out of the house, and told me to get lost, and well, now I don't have anywhere to go or anyone to call, so I called you for some reason because you're basically the only person who would listen and understand." She finished off; I could hear she was starting to panic again.

"Right, where are you?" I asked.

"Um, outside, walking, I don't really know where I am." She admitted.

"Okay, just describe the surroundings." I suggested, I didn't know Manhattan all that well, but I was thinking that if she could identify a supermarket or a take-out place I could maybe find her according to that.

"Well, it's a suburban area, nothing noteworthy. Um, I know there's a Walmart up the road, not sure how far." She replied.

"Which street are you on, or rather the Walmart, or whatever." I asked.

"The Walmart is up on, I don't know the area that well, sorry." She answered.

"That's fine," I said, "well, are there any big things close by? Because if you can tell me where around you are, maybe I can figure it out, or call my brother, he knows the area better than I do." I met her a couple minutes later in Central park, shivering and crying.

"Harry? Oh my God, hi! Thank you so much for coming." She said.

"June, it's a pleasure, are you all right?" I asked, noticing the tears.

"Just cold, and distraught." She admitted, "nothing serious."

"My car's right there, if you like, you can stay the night over at my flat." I replied, smiling slightly as I offered her the jacket I was wearing. She took it gratefully, and then walked toward me.

"Thank you. I know it's a lot of effort for someone you barely know." She answered bashfully, burning holes into the ground with her eyes.

"It's not a problem, you sounded panicked, it was the least I could do." I said, and lead her to the car, Aubella scooted to the back seat and both the kids looked at me weirdly.

"Kids, this is June, she's a friend of mine." I said once we'd all gotten inside, June didn't say anything.

"Hi, June. I'm Aubella, the oldest." She grinned happily, "and the one with the broken arm is my delicate flower of a brother, Jude." Jude proceeded to shove her to the side, and not look at anyone.

"Hi." He said after a while, "I'm not a delicate flower, by the way, my sister is just annoying."

"That's okay, siblings are a pain in the butt." June replied, causing Jude to grin.

"I like your friend, father." He said to me, and I shook my head.

"You like anyone who sides with you on a matter, Jude." I said, and he was back to sulking in the corner. When we arrived home, I ushered the kids to their rooms, and helped June inside. Aubella grabbed her a blanket, and she smiled gratefully as she wrapped it around herself.

"Tea or coffee?" I asked.

"Neither, but thank you." She replied.

"Are you alright? Honestly, though." I asked.

"No," She answered, as I sat down next to her, she broke into sobs once again, and my heart almost hurt for her, "he's a terrible person."

"I would agree, but I'm inclined to reserve judgement until meeting." I said, hoping for a little laugh. She wiped at her eyes, and shrugged.

"You're so polite, it's kind of scary." She said, mustering a small smile.

"It's a virtue." I replied, "listen, June. You're welcome here, all the time, if you don't want to go back to him, then you can stay here for as long as you like."

"You barely even know me, why would you do something like that?" She asked, her eyes rimmed red, and cheeks stained with sticky tears.

"I've been told I'm a pretty selfless person, but nonetheless, you're at a low, and I've been there, low, down and out, beat down to the ground, and I just figured you need at least one person in your life that's not throwing you to the wolves."

"Thank you." She breathed out as she engulfed me in a tight hug, I was never fond of affection, but I hugged her back because I knew she needed some sort of reassurance. I helped her fetch some of her things from her boyfriends – or rather, ex-boyfriends – house. It was a tragic place, tiny, resembled a trailer. She ran in and came dashing out ten minutes later with a duffel bag and a pillow. She looked a bit bewildered.

"Everything in tact?" I asked, when she jumped into the car.

"Yeah, he's home. Can we get going?" She asked nervously chewing on the nails of her free hand.

"Of course." I said as I pulled away, and in the mirror I could see buff, almost middle-aged man standing in the road, wearing a wife-beater t-shirt and pyjama pants, he was holding up quite an obscene gesture, "is he always that obscene?"

"I've seen worse, let's just hope he doesn't follow us." She said, looking back.

"Yeah, I'm not particularly in the mood to have a violent alcoholic in my house." I replied.

"How did you guess he was an alcoholic?" She asked.

"They usually break out in rash behaviour, but honestly, that's just a guess. By the way he was still in his pyjamas at noon, and his hair uncombed, also, he hasn't shaved in a while. His movements were sloppy, and I could vaguely see the slur as he swore at us." I shrugged.

"How did you see all that?" She asked, a little taken aback.

"Right, I sound like an investigator. Well, I spent a lot of my time observing people, and how different kinds of them behave. One of my friends," referring to Finn Darlings, who technically was my brother-in-law, "is an investigator, I tagged along on a couple of his observing missions or what not, and he taught me how to identify different kinds of people." I replied, "don't worry, I'm not like a human lie-detector or anything, I'm just perceptive."

"Very perceptive, I suppose it's a good thing then." She said, smiling once again, "can you just read people, anyone?" She asked, she was very curious, I'd give her that, like Jude when he first found out I could sort of 'read' people.

"Suppose, well, you're anxious, since you're not meeting my gaze, you never do, insinuating insecurity, you ring your hands a lot, meaning you're a bit paranoid, also you look around a lot, as if someone is following us." I said, giving her a quick look.

"You got all that from just looking at me?" She asked.

"Technically, I've been observing from the start, so no." I replied, laughing a little, "but yeah, I suppose."