The Girl Next Door

Goodbye

“Dear passengers, please put your seatbelts on, as we’ll be arriving at the Split airport shortly, thank you.” The pilot’s voice filled the plane. I was looking out the window, my eyes locked on the clouds.

“You have to put your seatbelt on,” Harry handed me the seatbelt. He’s been everywhere where I was for the past few days. My mom had to leave early to help my dad’s new wife and my grandmother with the funeral, and Chris was at work pretty much all the time, so Harry would just spend his time babysitting me. I told him he didn’t have to go to Croatia with me for dad’s funeral, but he insisted. I was a little bit glad, even. I needed a friend.

I buckled the seatbelt over my hips and closed the tray in front of me before looking back out the window. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, his eyes worried.

“I’m fine,” my voice shook as I spoke, but he left me alone even though the both of us knew I was lying. As the plane landed, we got our luggage and got into my Grandmother Barbara’s car and drove home in a blur. If you’d see me on the street somewhere, you’d think I’m mentally ill and Harry was my caretaker. The two of them chatted in the car, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. When the car stopped in front of our family house, I took my bags and Cat’s cage, and went upstairs to my place.

“I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything,” Harry shouted after me. My gran let him take my mom’s old room instead of going to a hotel. Everyone in my family liked him. I can’t help but wonder what dad would think of him if they had ever met. I smiled at him and rushed upstairs.

“Carter,” mom hugged the air out of me as I opened the door. “Are you okay?”

“Just stop treating me like I’m a little kid!” I yelled to her surprise, “My dad died because of a stupid drunk driver. Of course I’m not okay! But that doesn’t give you the permission to treat me like I’m retarded!” I threw my bags and Cat’s cage on the floor- to which the cat didn’t respond quite well- and rushed to my room. I sat coiled up on my bed, crying for what seemed hours. Nobody dared to come, and I was happy they didn’t. At some point I took out my guitar and started playing. That calmed me down, but it also made me miss dad even more. After all, he’s the one who taught me how to play. Randomly, the melody began to resemble ‘Let It Be’, my dad’s favourite song. I started singing along. My voice trembled horribly in the first few verses, but it got better in the chorus. Someone knocked on the door but I didn’t care enough to pay any attention.

“Hey,” Harry’s bedhead crept behind the door. The song came to a stop. “Don’t stop because of me,” he walked to me.

“And who, may I know, has told you that you could enter my room?” I snapped.

“I see you’ve got your sass back. I was already getting worried,” he sat next to me on the white shag carpet and leaned on the bed. “You have a nice room.”

“Was much nicer without you around,” I muttered.

“What were you playing?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’ll make you tell me.” I raised my eyebrow. He took the guitar out of my hands and started playing. It didn’t sound quite good, but I realised the song as ‘Little Things’. I didn’t despise that song quite as much as the other ones since it was originally Ed’s song, but it still was quite unbearable.

“I know you’ve never loved the sound of your voice on tape, you’ve never loved to know how much you weigh. And you still have to squeeze into your jeans, but you’re perfect to me.” I rolled my eyes. “I won’t let these little things slip ou-“

“Fine, I’ll tell you!” he handed me the guitar. “Your ways of terror are ‘harry-fying’, Styles.” I chuckled, for the first time in a while.