Saturday is the last day of my life as I know it. I should want to spend the entire day with my mom and my brother, but the only thing I want to do is treat it like a normal day.
When I wake up at 3 a.m., I don't heven try to go back to sleep. I sit on my couch, coffee mug in hand, thinking. Up until this very moment, this tiny apartment had never felt like home. It still doesn't, not really, but it is familiar and comfortable and I love it.
My father was wary of this job when I called to tell him about it, and he refused to break the apartment's lease. He didn't seem to mind paying the rent for it without it being use, and he went off on a tangent about money and contracts. I didn't listen, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of a father who might have actually cared for his children.
I stop at a gas station on the way to my mom's house and get Ryan the doughnuts he likes. He never buys things like that for himself, so I hope he learns to occasionally treat himself while I'm gone. The three of us eat at the kitchen counter, and my mother does a good job at concealing her emotions. No tears today, not yet anyway. The rest of the afternoon continues this way, with all of us avoiding the elephant in the room.
Ryan and my mom are deep in conversation about something trivial when I excuse myself out the back door and make my way to the swing. The tree branch creaks under my weight as I kick off and swing myself higher.
The air is heavy and damp, soon my skin is dewy. I don't mind. I feel alive. The light is fading slowly from the sky when I head back inside. I know I should stay here longer, but I feel the need to be alone. It's time to say goodbye.
The back door clicks as I open it, and I try to memorize the sound as if I will never be returning. My mom glances up from some papers on the counter when she sees me enter, and her calm façade shatters. All the effort she had put in to remain calm was for nothing as she wraps her arms around my waist and cries into my neck.
True to my reputation, I don't cry. I feel like I might, but some long lost instinct from the past prevents it. I am the strong one in this relationship. I do not cry.
I take a step back and hold her away from me at arm's length. "Bye, mom," I whisper.
"Goodbye, my brave girl. Good luck." My mom has always had unshakeable confidence in me, so this is enough. It's no "call me when you get there" or "did you pack such and such" or any other typical mom thing. Like I said, I am the strong one. I am the caregiver.
Walking away from my mom proves harder than I had imagined it would be. But I don't turn back.
I walk through the living room and to out the front door onto the porch, where I know Ryan will be waiting for me. He sits in one of the age old rocking chairs that have sat out here as long as I can remember, gesturing for me to sit in the one next to it. We sit quietly for a few moments, rocking.
"Hales." His voice is gruff.
"Yeah?"
"You're going to be okay."
"Thanks," I whisper.
And again I feel the need to leave. I love my brother, probably more than anyone else, but that's all he needed to say and that's all I needed to hear. This is how we work, Ryan and I. We operate on a different wavelength than everybody else, we can read each other. He senses my mood and stands from his chair, offering me a hand. I take it, and he pulls me into a crushing hug. My lungs scream for air but I will not pull away, I will not let go first.
"Love you, Hayley Jane," Ryan whispers next to my ear.
"I love you, too," I say. Against Ryan's chest, the tears spill over. I don't have to hide in front of him, I am not the strong one here. Neither of us are, we are equals. When Ryan finally releases me, I see that his eyes are wet, too. It is out of character for Ryan to cry, at anything. I touch his arm one last time before I turn to go. I don't say goodbye. Ryan won't stand for the word goodbye, he read an article long ago about how families and friends of cancer patients should never say the word "goodbye" because it was too final. It had an air of permanence.
"Goodbye, Hayley," I hear Ryan's voice behind me as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I turn back to look at him. Did he really say that? Does he believe this to be permanent? I just wave and give him a grim smile, hoping that he will not resent me for this.
I have no clue what to do when I reach my apartment. I'm in that weird mood where I feel like I need to do something, but there is nothing to do and everything I think of seems mildly unappealing.
Again I find myself sitting on the couch staring into space, overthinking everything. A knock on the door breaks me out of my reverie. Curiosity propels me to the door, no one ever comes here. When I look through the peephole, I see a pizza delivery man. This has happened before, the apartments are weirdly laid out so we get each other's mail and orders all the time.
"Hi, I think you have the wrong door," I say as I open it.
"I don't think so," he looks down at a piece of paper in his hand. "Hayley Reid?"
"Yeah?"
"It's been taken care of," he hands me the pizza and turns away before I can say anything else. What? I close the door and take the pizza into the living room, it smells heavenly. When I open the box I see a piece of paper with words printed on it.
Don't eat the whole thing. -H
He sent me a pizza. I am laughing so hard I am nearly in hysterics. Tears stream down my face as I clutch my sides, vaguely wondering if I'm losing my mind. It is not that funny. When I finally get my wits about me, I reach for my phone to text Harry.
*Thanks for the pizza. What a novel gift.*
As I wait for his reply, I think of the possibilities of being around him more often. My stomach leaps. I seem to have given up on trying to stay away from him, I don't think I could bear it if I tried. We will be close. I feel that we already are. My phone goes off.
*Save me the crust. Have a safe flight. See you tomorrow.*
I put my phone down on the counter and sigh. This is going to be interesting. I finally let emotion and anxiety over tomorrow settle over me. The strongest thing I feel is panic. I am going into this blindly, I have no idea what is expected of me. What if I can't do it? Deep down, I know I can. I know I will be okay. As suddenly as the emotion came on, it stops. A feel of general calm settles over me. I am tired, so tired.
I make my way to the bedroom and bring my phone with me, settling into bed and scrolling through hundreds of e-mails that don't mean a thing. Another text message from Harry scrolls across the top of my screen.
*you always very abruptly end conversations.*
I laugh and try to ignore the butterflies that assault my stomach.
*Some things don't warrant a response.*
*I'll keep that in mind. How are you holding up?*
*Pretty well actually, I'm a little nervous but in a good way.*
*Sounds about right. Just remember that we sought you out. We wanted you. You're doing us a favor by joining us, everyone wanted you on board.*
His message calms my shaky nerves.
*Thank you. That's very reassuring, you're very smooth.*
*I'm glad you think so. Me, Zayn, and Niall are coming with Paul to pick you up from the airport tomorrow.*
*Sounds good. I'll see you then.*
*See you. Goodnight Hayley.*
I try to stop the smile that spreads across my face, but alone in the darkness, I don't have to hide anything. Harry Styles is fast becoming the closest thing I have to a friend. Just as I am about to drift off to sleep, my phone buzzes again.
*I guess that was one of those things that didn't warrant a response.*
*Goodnight, Harry.* I send back. I try not to be too distracted by the slightly giddy, elated feeling spreading through my body right now. I fall asleep with my eager anticipation for tomorrow finally winning out over the nerves.
YOU ARE READING
Written
Fanfiction"Written" follows the story of 20-year-old Hayley Reid, a fiery young woman who never realized her potential in the music business until she was recruited to work on the biggest concert tour of the year. Hayley's passion immediately draws the attent...
