Don't Look Back - Louis Tomlinson

Wait, wait.

Talia.

November 22, 2013. 10:42am.

"Hey, sweetheart, have you been sleeping better? You seem more at ease and well rested. The bags under your eyes are lightening up too. Did you finally use that treatment I created? I put it in your bathrooms medicine cabinet to make sure you seen it." My mothers voice echoed slightly from the kitchen where she stood at the sink washing up the dishes we used for breakfast this morning. Andrew was finally back, but he left to work around nine. He gets to shoot people... Cause you know, he's aloud to do that. He is a professional photographer after all. ;)) I'm currently sitting at the dining table reading one of my favourite thriller novels, looking down at my untied pair of old white -or I might as well say eggshell white- coloured shoe laces, and as my eyes focused on the floor just below, I noticed there was little crumbs scattered everywhere from when I wiped down the top earlier. Kneeling down to tie my laces quickly before walking over to the kitchen closet and grabbing the broom, I began sweeping one section at a time, replying to my mother.

"I have been sleeping better mama, thank you for noticing." I look up and give her a small smile even though her back is to me. Continuing to sweep, I start up again. "Oh yeah, its smells really, really good! Its starting to take affect I guess." Lie. Well.. It does smell very good, but I just keep remembering those beautiful eyes of Louis Tomlinson and the way he delicately held his soft accent all the time we were speaking.

"That's wonderful, honey! I'm glad you liked it and it works." She mused with pride in her sweet motherly tone and continued on while scrubbing a frying pan.

"Since you're now feeling better and all.... Can you please head to the grocery store whenever you have the time? Drew gave me this gift card with $500 for groceries on it, but I just can't seem to fit it in my schedule of finally doing absolutely nothing! Aside from all these chores you seem to have forgotten about in here of course." With those words and the way she looked back and playfully winked at my semi-neutral expression, it told me she knew that I knew she had gotten me, but I obviously wasn't the only one with that knowledge.

"I believe there's a supermarket about 30 minutes away. Go down Baker Ave and it should be on the corner of 1st Street and Lemetta Drive; you can take my car if you want, but please be careful.." Once I was done gathering all the excess tiny crumbs left behind by our shitty dust pan, I tossed the entire pile of trash in the bin and plopped myself down onto the counter next to mom.

"Sure, what do you want me to get? And don't worry about that crazy man, mom. We're safe here.." But even in that last sentence, I sounded like I was attempting to convince myself of exactly that.

As I cleared away those negative thoughts that are not as easily haunting me nowadays, I take out my phone and open up the notes app, ready to type out an entire goddamn essay if that's how long our list was going to be.

Ignoring the pain in her eyes after that was difficult, but she said not a word on the subject so I decided not to push it. 'Neither of us deserve to speak on this situation here, not in this moment' my heart had whispered.

"Hmmm, I will just name the dishes I know you know how to make. You're simple, just like your father, so it shouldn't be too difficult." When she had mentioned my father, I rolled my eyes.

"Hush about my father, mom. Please. Now which ingredients do you want me to get for what dishes?"

She switched off the water and turned around, wiping her hands on the pink and blue paint splattered cleaning apron she was wearing. Looking down to her right, she began naming off all my favorite quick dinners.