Before You Leave Me Today (a One Direction love story)

55. Before

Chapter 55:

  “Delilah!!” I hear a voice yell the next morning. Last night is very clear in my mind. I remember every detail. The way Niall’s eyes shone when he was on that stage with a guitar in his hand, the snowflakes that fell on my coat as we waited for the cab, and how they looked in Niall’s hair. I even recall the warmth of Niall’s body as he fell asleep last night.

I sit up to find that I don’t even have a headache. Normally I fear sitting up in bed after drinking because I can barely focus with the hangover. Today, I feel completely fine, as if I fell asleep at 9;30 at night, without drinking a drop of alcohol.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and glance around the room. The walls are light blue, besides one, which is brick. Light shines through the large window at the end of the room. Lace curtains try to block the light as it shines on my massive fluffy, white mass of a bed. The sounds of the city below fill my ears. I turn around, confusion flooding my mind. Fairy lights are wrapped around my headboard, and instead of a massive Republic of Ireland poster over the bed, there is a close up black and white picture of a daisy. The walls are covered in photographs and paintings, instead of guitars.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t know what would be worse: if I did recognize this place, or if I didn’t. I know exactly where I am. My bedroom. Not Niall’s room. Not even my bedroom in the boys’ London house. My bedroom. Before One Direction. Before London. In America.

How the hell did I fall asleep in London and wake up in New York?  I slide my legs out of my pile of blankets and my feet hit the cold, old wooden floor. I slide into my favourite baggy sweatshirt and walk out of my bedroom. My shoulders brush the walls of the thin hallway of our New York apartment. I pass Aiden’s room, which the door is open to. His college text books are all over his bed and his suitcase lies open at the foot of the bed. Clothes cover the room, thrown about. I continue down the hallway and glance out the window at the end of the hall. Cabs speed by, and the street is flooded with pedestrians. The magnolia in front of the Nike store across the street is in full bloom.

  “Del!” the voice calls again. Mom. “Time to wake, sunshine!” I follow her voice down the steep stairs and emerge to the bottom floor of our apartment. Aiden lounges on the couch, watching a soccer match and Mom is in the kitchen. The apartment is just how I remember it. Long and skinny, with the kitchen on one side, and the living area across from it. Past the kitchen and down the hall is Mom’s bedroom, and the master bath. The kitchen is all brick, with mismatched counters and a huge steel fridge. A collection of plants sit on the window sill of the small window above the sink. The living room has a small grey couch with a TV across from it. Between the TV and couch is a glass door that leads to the patio outside. The patio has a bunch of plants, and Mom’s hammock. That patio is definitely my favourite thing about this apartment. Because of all the plants and beautiful old stone work, it’s like being in the park. There’s also a perfect view of the city, with the Flatiron building right in the center.

Books cover the shelves behind the couch. Aiden rests his hand on the shelves as he yells at the TV. “C’mon Arsenal! Pull it together.”

  “Y’know M.U. is gona win, don’t you?” Mom chuckles. I widen my eyes at the sight of my mother. She smiles at me, flashing her perfect teeth. She really is a beautiful woman. Straight blonde hair falls just to her shoulders, and her brown eyes sparkle. She has a light dusting of freckles across her nose, and when she smiles, dimples pop out of her cheeks. She’s tall and thin, but healthy. This is how my mother was right before she was put into a coma. This was how my mother was before we went to England. After Dad died, after her depression. This is when she was happy again. And my mother, who is supposed to be in the hospital, in the middle of a six month (and counting) coma, stands before me in our home in New York.