Dark Star

I did not know what was worse: losing my job or losing my boyfriend.

But both incidents happened within two weeks of each other, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

First I lost my boyfriend.

Brad did not even bother to leave a note; he just literally disappeared one night.

So I spent the next few days looking for him. I called his friends, I called his family and then I almost called the police. The one thing that stopped me was the look of pity in his friend’s faces. Like they knew what had happened but just did not feel it was their place to tell me.

“You know what Brad’s like.” They told me. “He’ll turn up eventually.”

They spoke like he was like some lost puppy who would eventually find his way home.

So while I was looking for my supposedly “lost” boyfriend, I conveniently forgot to turn up to work.

It was a shitty little office job, but it was enough to keep my head above water, paying for rent and living expenses. Not to mention, Brad’s living expenses.

So after a few futile days of looking for Brad, I suddenly remembered to turn up to work only to be told my position had been filled by someone who did not forget she had a job.

So when I say I lost my job and my boyfriend, you can see I was not kidding.

Three weeks later Brad turned up, I kicked him to the curb and then found myself standing on my parent’s doorstep with a few suitcases in tow.

What was worse?

Losing my job… losing my boyfriend… or moving in with my parents?

It soon became apparent that maybe moving in with my parents was the answer to that question. Don’t get me wrong… they were well meaning. They wanted the best for me and had easily accepted me back into the house. But it was hard not to miss the look of disappointment. I was their twenty year old unemployed and unattached daughter… their little rebel without a cause… or should I say rebel without a clue.

Along with being well meaning, my parents were well off. They lived in a beautiful, sprawling house in the nice part of town. They had moved in after I graduated high school, when I had announced I was moving out and “doing things on my own”. I had these grand plans… I was going to find a great job, a great guy and live happily ever after.

“I don’t need your money.” I had announced. “I don’t need your help.”

And now, here I was. Sitting on their porch and staring into nothingness. My life was a mess.

I had been looking for jobs on my iPad, the sticky heat forcing me to sit outside. I looked down at my black tank top and shorts and the way they accentuated my pale arms and legs and reminded myself I seriously needed to get some sun. Instead I sat there trawling through the job sites. I had bookmarked a couple of jobs but my heart wasn’t really in it.

It was at that very moment I heard a car door slam. I looked over to see a sleek black car pull up in front of my house. A guy with long chestnut brown hair stepped out and took a moment to check his mobile phone.

He looks like Harry Styles from One Direction, I lazily thought to myself.

My mouth fell open when I realised it was Harry Styles from One Direction. What the fuck was Harry Styles doing at the front of my house? I sat there openly staring at him when suddenly his eyes flickered toward me, prompting me to pull my beat-up baseball hat over my eyes. I could not help but take another peek to see him still watching me with interest before his face hardened and he averted his eyes.

I bowed my head and mindlessly began to swipe my iPad, but managed to catch him walk up the driveway of the house next door. I craned my neck to see more, but he disappeared from sight and I heard the sound of a door being slammed.

“Remember One Direction?” I asked my mother as I entered the kitchen.

“Mmm…” She said absentmindedly as she stirred the pasta sauce she had bubbling away on the stove.

“One Direction.” I repeated. “Harry Styles… I think I just saw him outside.”

“That’s because he lives next door.” My father spoke up from his spot on the couch. He looked up from his newspaper and smiled at my dazed expression.

“He lives next door?”

“It’s his parent’s house.” My father added.

“He lives with his mother and stepfather.” My mother corrected.

Harry Styles lives with mother next door? I was so busy trying to process this piece of information that I almost didn’t hear my mother continue.

“Apparently he was never the same after the band broke up.”

I remembered a time when One Direction were huge. They were everywhere. TV, T-shirts, teenage girls screaming their names. I had never really been one of them. I would have been considered the perfect demographic, as I was twelve years old at the time, but I was going through my emo phase. I dressed in black and took myself oh so very seriously. One Direction did not register on my radar, except for one time I saw one of their songs on MTV. It was catchy and I found myself humming along, but what I remember most was eyeing the cute mop haired guy in the band.

I quickly scrambled for my iPad and googled One Direction. Several headlines appeared, including their official website. I clicked on that first and discovered it had last been updated a couple of years ago. I went back and clicked on the headlines.

One Direction’s Hiatus: When will it End?

The Rise & Fall of Harry Styles

It turns out that when the band unofficially broke up six years ago big things were expected for Harry Styles. He was the one everyone pegged to be the solo star. Hollywood even beckoned, but for some reason Harry disappeared from the public eye. The details were sketchy, but there were rumours of a nervous breakdown, and that was all I could glean from the numerous articles written about him.

But apparently, he was living next door to me. And as I settled on the overstuffed chair on our front porch the next day, I could not help but keep an eye out for my new neighbour. I was in the middle of reading a job ad, when I heard the purr of a car engine at the front. I glanced up to see Harry’s car pull up in front of my house. He furtively glanced toward me as he walked past my house and into his driveway.

And so, began the ritual. Every day at around 3.00pm, I would position myself on the porch and without fail Harry would arrive. He never parked in his driveway, always at the front of my parent’s house. It was an unapologetic stare that would last the entire ten seconds it took for him to walk past. He never smiled and come to think of it, I never smiled at him. I wondered where he went every day and I wondered why I could not bring myself to say hello to him.

This little ritual was soon becoming the highlight of my day. I was still “job hunting” and trying to ignore the look of my disappointment on my parent’s faces. I barely left the house and I struggled to change out of my pyjamas every day. In fact, my porch attire was limited to sweatpants or shorts, depending on the weather and a tank top. I was usually barefoot and wore no makeup. I was pretty much a mess, but for some reason that did not stop the staring. I found myself thinking about him at odd times of the day.

I was intrigued. There was no other way of putting it. And when my Mother casually mentioned that Harry’s mother and stepfather were coming over for dinner one night, I almost keeled over.

“What?” I sputtered.

“Anne and Robin are coming over for dinner.” My mother repeated.

“Here?” I said trying to steady my voice.

“Yes here.” She said giving me a strange look. “It’s not the first time they’ve come over… we’ve been neighbours for a while.”

“And Harry?” I said trying to make my voice sound light and casual. “Is Harry coming?”

“I’m not expecting Harry to come.” My mother shook her head. “He never does. I don’t know him very well, to be honest.”

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. A part of me badly wanted him to come over, but the very thought frightened me. I left my Mum to start up in the kitchen as I mulled over what I was going to do.

When the doorbell rang that night, I went through my options. I could spend my night hiding in my room or I could grow up and at least come out and say hello. I pulled on my jeans and a casual top. I glanced in the mirror briefly just to confirm my hair was neatly combed. I made my way down the stairs to the sounds of my parent’s greeting their guests. I could see Harry’s Mum look up at me as I descended the stairs, smiling with shining eyes. I had extended my hand and was just about to open my mouth to greet her, when she moved to the side and I found myself face to face with Harry Styles.

Notes

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