Fighting for Air

I snuggled my face into my scarf as I walk down the sidewalk of a semi-familiar busy street with the cold December air brushing against my cheeks. My eyes were watering from the contact of the cold air and my nose began to run slightly. I blinked my eyes quickly as I climbed the stairs to my apartment building.

With my numb fingers, I fiddled with the keys in my hands to find the correct one. I turned the key in the lock, heaved open the old wooden door, and securely closed it behind me before climbing the stairs to my apartment on the third floor. As I climbed the stairs, I fiddled with the key ring once again to find the one for my apartment door. When I arrived at apartment number 15, the door was crack open and my heart began to race franticly. I put on my hand on the door and slightly pushed it open.

Once I had opened the door far enough to poke my head in, I saw Ella sitting on the couch with her feet on the coffee table and her hand in a bag of Doritos, while her other scrolled through her phone. The fear I had instantly turned into relief and then anger at the sight of my sister. I pushed through the door and Ella barely glanced up at me as I entered, “Ella, are you freaking kidding me right now? How many times have I told you to make sure the door is all the way shut AND locked?” I threw my keys by her feet onto the coffee table, “This isn’t like back home.”

Ella finally looked up at me from her phone and stuck her thumb in her mouth to lick off the cheesiness, “Practice what you preach, sis.”

I gave her a confused look and she pointed at the door. I spun around to see I had left the door wide open during my state of concern and then rage. I walked over, slammed the door shut, and locked the dead-bolt, “Ella, seriously though, make sure you get the door shut. I don’t want to come home and find you missing, or worse. Please pay more attention.”

She looked over at me and sighed, “Okay, okay.” Ella picked up the bag of Doritos and offered them to me. I plopped myself down on the sofa beside Ella and began to stuff my face with cheesy goodness.

“So, how was school,” I asked with my mouth full.

Ella shrugged, “It was alright. I have a project due next week before Christmas break, but that’s about it. Oh, and do you think Natalie can come over this weekend to help with the Christmas tree?”

I smile, “Of course.”

I watched as Ella picked her phone back up and began scrolling through her phone once again. Twitter, I assumed. She talked me into getting one and I am just as addicted as she is. I kept looking at Ella, who was still staring at her phone. She has grown quite a bit in the last few months. She turned sixteen in August, which was pretty hard on the both of us since it was her first birthday without mom and dad, but we managed to make it special. It was our first few weeks living in New York City, so we hadn’t done much exploring yet, but that day we decided to get our minds off of the sadness that dwelled in our hearts and make the best of a very special day.

We explored Time Square and had tacos out of one of those van things, which I was quite reluctant to do but Ella insisted. It wasn’t terrible, but I didn’t dare try anything with meat. At the end of her sixteenth birthday, we had ice cream in Central Park and then headed home, back to the grief that I knew would fill our hearts as soon as we entered the threshold of the apartment. That was the day I learned that running away from something within you is inevitable.

Ella has begun to look like a young woman. She has begun to grow into her features and her body is growing curves. She is growing up. I’ve even let her start wearing a little make up. Very little, actually, like only mascara. The downfall to her growing up is boys. There have been two or three guys who she has told me about. She says they are just friends, but I’m not stupid, I was her age once.

Oh. My. God. I sound like a forty year old mother.
I really need to get out more.

I haven’t had much trouble with her and boys, thanks to a very good friend. Ever since that day in July, Niall has kept in touch. He checks in on Ella and me at least once a month, which is nice. He and the boys have been really busy these past few months with finishing up their tour and announcing dates for a new one, releasing a new album, which Ella and I have on repeat, and their 3D movie, so when we do talk, it isn’t for very long. At least we know he cares; which is more than I can say for the others… Except Harry, he does text me every once and a while to tell me to loosen up.

I haven’t heard anything from him though. Till this day, I do not know why I should care. I met him once, just like he has met countless amounts of other girls, but I can’t seem to shake him. I talked to Ella about Danielle after that night. Ella told me all about their relationship, how they met on XFactor and dated for over two years but broke up for a short time before getting back together, and the whole time she was full of admiration. I didn’t dare tell her how I felt. Especially after finding out how good of a person Danielle really was.

So I tried to move one, tried being the keyword in that equation. There were some days I could go to bed without thinking about what happened, and then there were others where I had to look him up on Google to see his face or see if he was alright. The day that Ella came up to me with tear filled eyes to tell me that Payzer broken up again filled me with all kinds of conflicting emotions: confusion, sadness, a tinge of hope, but no happiness. How could I be happy that a couple who seemed so perfect broke up? I did feel hope though. The part of me that holds on to any hope of a real life fairytale hoped that he would come for me, but I was silly and naïve. He was Liam Payne and I was Victoria Thatcher, a nineteen year old girl trying to make it in the real world.

Ella looked up from her phone, “V, I know I’m beautiful, but you have got to stop staring at me.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes, “A bit stuck on our self, are we?”

She reached out, wiping her orange, slobbery fingers on my jeans, “Yes you are.”
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I placed a plate of Mac & Cheese in front of Ella and myself at our small table in our small kitchen. I realized when apartment hunting in the city, you pay a lot more for a lot less and a WHOLE lot more for, well, a whole lot more, so we stuck to a whole lot less. It was just a small, two bedroom and one bathroom apartment, with rent that was twice as much as my old apartment back in Kansas City, but with my classes paid for at The American Academy of Dramatic Arts by scholarships and from selling my mom’s old car, I was able to afford it. Who needs a car in NYC anyway?

Before we moved to New York, I auditioned with the AADA to make sure I wasn’t wasting my time. After a few weeks, I received an acceptance letter and a scholarship offer. Guess I’m not too bad of an actress, eh? Once Ella and I got out of Missouri and into NYC, we looked into various different schools for her. The first public school we looked at, Ella fell in love instantly, and so it was done. We made our place in the big city.

It was but just a week after we moved to NYC that This Is Us came out and he was seen at the premiere with someone new. It was in that moment that I truly lost all hope and decided to wake up from my deluded trance and focus on making a good life for Ella and myself.

I took a huge bite of my Mac & Cheese, mindlessly going over the past few months in my head. Ella was eating quietly, which isn’t normal so I came back to Earth. Something was up, “You feeling okay, El?”

She looked up at me, confused, “Yeah, why?”

I shrugged my shoulders and took another bite, “You just seem a little off today…”

She looked down at her food, not saying anything. I put down my fork and brought my knees up in the chair as I looked at Ella intently, “Spill it. You’re never this quiet.”

She looked back up at me, with worry crinkling at the corners of her eyes and mouth, “They are coming back to New York this week for Saturday Night Live. They’re flying in tomorrow…”

I knew where this was going, and it wasn’t in any direction I wanted to head in, “No, Ella.”

She slammed her fork down, “Why not Victoria?! Why are keeping me from seeing them?”

I let out an exhausted sigh. I couldn’t do this right now. I picked up my plate and went to the sink, throwing it in and not caring if it broke. I went to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and sliding to the floor in sobs. I had been keeping her from them, but not to hurt her, not even to protect her, which is what my main purpose in life was right now. I kept her away from them to protect me. I knew if we saw one, we’d have to see all five, and I don’t want to see him. I don’t think I’d be able to survive it.

I take a deep breath, patting my face dry of any tears and taking a moment to console myself. I got into my pajamas, threw my hair up with a hair tie, and went out of my room to find Ella nowhere in sight.

I went to her bedroom. The door was closed so I listened quietly at the door before knocking. I brought my hand to the door, ready to knock, when I heard Ella’s voice through the door. I could barely make out what she was saying, but I knew instantly who she was talking to. Anytime she’s upset with me, she calls Niall. When she calls Niall, it’s my cue that she’s pretty pissed and she needs space, so I give it to her, and today is no exception. I got back to my room, giving us both time to think about things.
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I lie in bed, anything and everything going through my head in those moments before sleep, but tonight the feeling of heaviness that usually comes has yet to make an appearance. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep without apologizing, but it was late and I was sure Ella would be asleep, so I found a piece of paper and pen, writing down a simple note:
“I’m Sorry.”
I tiptoed out of my room, and slid the note under Ella’s door. I went back to my room, shutting the door lightly before crawling back into bed. I easily slipped into a dreamless slumber.
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I woke up the next morning in desperate need of a shower. I approached my door and stepped on a piece of paper. I picked it up, reading the words written on it in Ella’s writing:
“That doesn’t change anything.”
My heart fell into my stomach at her words she had written that were obviously written in anger. She was right, “I’m sorry” doesn’t change anything and her note definitely doesn’t change anything, especially my mind.

Notes