unexpected || h.s

1.3

"Who's this?" Harry asks pointing at a picture of my cousin Charlie.

"That's my cousin, Charlie," I said taking a sip from my hot chocolate.

We were gathered around the coffee table watching the Day-After-Christmas movie marathon on ABC. There was a pile of photo albums in my closet and we decided to look through the pictures. We usually never do this, but when we do we spend hours upon hours laughing at them.

"Oh my God, Harry look." It was a picture of us when we were 13 at a Halloween party. That year we decided to go as Elvis and Marilyn.

"What are we doing, oh my God."
We sat there laughing for a while until our stomachs started hurting.

Harry and I put away the loose pictures and we were now looking in my baby albums.

"Look at your butt," he said pointing at a picture of me in the sink.

"Shut up." I say, shoving him with my elbow.

We were looking through a seventh stack of pictures when we got to my third birthday.

"Woah your mom looks so different." He says. Her hair was curly and she had this long set of bangs covering her eyes. She was wearing a floral dress and she was holding me while I tried to stick my hands into the cake. She wore the biggest smile on her face, and it was the first time in a long time I've really seen her happy.

"Who's that guy?" He asked pointing to the man next to my mom, smiling at her.

"That's my dad," I say looking down at the picture.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry says, trying to apologize.

"No, it isn't your fault. Really, " I smiled reassuringly.

The Styles' moved in across the street about a week after my dad left without notice.

I can remember that day so perfectly. My parents had been fighting and I was hiding up in my room watching Matilda because that was the only thing that seemed to soothe me. I heard screaming and yelling and I didn't know what to do so I just sat in my bed and cried while the movie played and my parents fought. There was a loud smash that sounded like glass so I opened the door and looked downstairs to find my mom on the floor and my dad talking down at her. He lifted his hand up, swung, and that's when I grabbed the phone and called my uncle. I cried into the phone and told him I didn't know what to do. He kept calling me nutter butter and told me to calm down, he'd be here soon. Fourteen minutes later, there was a loud knock on the door, and more yelling. I came out of my room and my uncle was yelling at my dad. He told him to leave and to not come back until he learned how to be a real man. Men don't beat their wives. Men don't make their daughters cry. Men don't come home drunk four nights a week. After he left, my mom cried on my uncle for about five minutes before his girlfriend came in and took over. My uncle came upstairs and asked me if I was okay. He said he was gonna take me out for ice cream and the park. When we left, I asked him if my mom was gonna be okay. He said we were all gonna be fine. I didn't believe him so I just nodded. But that was the last time I had seen my father because he didn't come back the next day like he usually did.
...

"What's your dad's name again?"
"Jamie Smith. Why?"
"Is this him?"

Harry handed me his phone and there was a headline for a man named Jamie Smith. He was going on tour on the west coast of the United States. Something about motivational speaking. I was so confused so I just googled his name and read about him on Wikipedia. The description said he was married and had a child but that ended when they got divorced. He checked himself into rehab the day he left his family and he's been sober for five years. He now shares his story all over the country.

Tears started running down my face. He got better and instead of coming back to fix things with us he uses his recovery as a way to make money. I didn't even want to read this anymore. I threw Harry's phone back in the couch and ran into the bathroom.

"Paris," Harry's voice cracked through the door.

"Paris, baby, open the door." His whispers were muffled against the door.

"What happened?" I could hear my mother's voice get louder.

I heard talking and the voices got more distant until they became non-existent.
How could he do this? How could he get better and not come back for us. I was so upset I didn't even know what to do. The only thing I thought of doing was probably the worst idea I've ever had but it seemed like the only right thing to do.

I pulled my phone out from the pocket of my sweater and googled "jamie smith tour dates." A whole list of tour dates in the west coast popped up and I clicked on California. Without hesitation, I bought a ticket for January 17th at 6:30 p.m. @ the Staples Center. This was probably the fastest and by far the worst decision I've ever made. I had a feeling something was going to go wrong but I wanted to keep an open mind.

I got up from behind the door and wiped my eyes before walking out. Harry was sitting on the couch watching an episode of 'Friends.' I ran as quietly as I could up the stairs and into my room. I turned on my record player and listened to Arctic Monkeys while I lay on my bed, thinking. Harry walked in a few moments later and cuddled with me.

"Are you okay?" He asked tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Mhm."

"Then that means you're not fine," he was now sitting up.

"I guess."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I don't know, do you wanna leave?"

"Okay, I know you're upset but you don't have to take all your anger out on me." Harry was getting this little crease in between his eyebrows. He was getting mad.

"Um, okay," I said casually before getting up to turn up the volume.

"Um, okay? Alright I'm just gonna go because I really don't want to have this discussion with you right now."

"What are you saying?" I asked, now getting upset myself.

"I mean, I know you're upset right now but I'd rather leave than have a huge argument about this," Harry was picking up a pair of shorts from the floor.

"Well maybe I wouldn't be as mad if you had actually tried to cheer me up. We wouldn't even be having this 'discussion' in the first place." I used air quotes around the word discussion because this was becoming a fight not a discussion.

"I tried to, all you said was 'mhm!'"

"Whatever," I knew he was right but I didn't want to admit it.

"Yeah, right, whatever," he took of his stuff and stuck his hand out to me.

"What?" I asked.

"Can I get my sweatshirt back?"

"What?" I crossed my arms.

"Can you give me my sweater back?"

"Why?" Why was he being such a dick? I didn't want to give it back to him.

"It's mine, isn't it?"

"Yeah but it's been here for like year, why do you suddenly need it?"

"Because."

"Whatever," I took off the sweatshirt and threw it on the floor, "fuck you."
He bent over and picked up the sweater, walking out and shutting the door behind him.

I sat on my bed and listened to the music, trying to hold back the tears because I didn't want to cry anymore. It felt as if everyone was eventually going to leave me and I was going to be alone. I didn't want Harry to leave. He wasn't just my boyfriend, he was my best friend in the entire world. I don't want him to leave me. I don't want him to let me go.