Constant // Harry Styles

Chapter Seven: "Much better."

"Rory Jane Alexander, how many times am I going to have to ask you to help me with the Christmas decorations??" My mom shouted from the step-stool she was wobbling on. She was trying to hold up thick, green garland tangled with christmas lights.  At the same time, she was trying to use her other hand and a push-pin to pin the garland in the wall. By herself, she was unsuccessful. My father and I were comfortable on our own couches, trying to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade on the TV that half of my mother's body was blocking.

"Why can't dad help?" I asked, picking a thread off of the hole in my torn jeans.

My father shook his head violently at me.  I know he was mad at me for suggesting he get out of his comfy chair and do some work on one of his few days off.  My mother gave up on the spot she was attempting to pin into the wall and turned to glare at the two of us. My father shot up from his seat and hurried toward the kitchen, waving his hand at me. "I have to baste the turkey. RJ, help your mom."

I sent him a look of both distress and disbelief before he disappeared around the corner of the room into the kitchen. Reluctantly, I stood up and walked over to help my mom lift the garland. My mother liked decorating for Christmas early, and while it wasn't as early as some people in our neighborhood, it was two weeks too early for me. She insisted on decorating all of Thanksgiving day, making that my least favorite holiday of the year. For most people, the holiday meant relaxing and eating, but for us, it was eating only a little and decorating for 12 hours with old decorations that my mom had collected over the course of her married life. Even my father hated it. 

"Are Aunt Betsy or Uncle Robby coming over today?" I asked, raising more of the garland up as my mother continued to pin it along the wall.

"No," my mother sighed. "Betsy said Robby woke up ill so they're staying home.  Betsy was watching her granddaughter and I think she passed along some kind of cold." She glanced down at me as I stared at the floats from the parade on the TV. "Was there anyone you wanted to invite over?"

I shook my head.

"What about Cameron?"

I shook my head again.

"You know, I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks."

"I know, Mom. I haven't either," I said.

"Why not?"

"He found a new group of friends, I guess."

My mother stepped down from the step-stool and pulled her brown hair back with a pink scrunchie she had around her wrist. It matched the pink eye shadow she was wearing and the pink trim on the festive sweater she was modeling. She sighed. "Rory, do you need to find a new group of friends?"

"Mom, I have friends," I said defensively, but boy, was that a lie. I had been alone for the last two weeks, sticking to myself and my apartment. I'd had a few strangers approach me about the party and ask if I wanted to come to another party over the weekend, but I wasn't about to go drinking in a place I didn't know with people I didn't know. Sure, I could go to the party and not drink at all, but I was ignoring that rationale as an excuse not to go. Neither Harry nor Cameron had reached out to me. I avoided the student union at normal meal times to avoid seeing either of them. "I have Eliza," I said.

My mother snarled and walked over to a purple tote box labelled "Christmas" - one of fourteen in the room. She opened the box, which turned out to be Christmas pillows, and began to toss them onto the couches. "I know that rude girl isn't a friend to you."

"She's really blossomed into a true friend this year," I lied.

"I just don't want you to be alone for the rest of your life! College is where you make life-long friends and connections-" My mother started, but my father cut her off.