Those Maudlin Days

“You should be so lucky that the emergency room is just underneath us. I think you nearly knocked that elderly man to the floor,” Harry’s calm and amused voice trailed behind me. I shot him a displeased look over my shoulder, but as I rounded the corner, I picked up speed.

My feet seemed to have a mind of their own. I was directed to the ICU and from there, onto the third floor, first right, last ‘cozy suite’ on the left, as the overly friendly receptionist had said. I scowled at her; I hardly figured any room in the ICU was considered ‘cozy’ by its inhabitants and their families, but before I could say anything, Harry was already gently pushing me towards the elevator and sweetly charming her with his half smile and endless ‘thank you’s.

I easily took the directions, my bare feet stomping against linoleum tiles quickly, but my mind was elsewhere. As I edged closer and closer to the room, I wondered how I had gotten here, nearly jogging in a hospital, wearing a skin tight dress from the previous night, with Harry Styles easily following behind me.

Logically speaking, I knew it was because Abigail had somehow drunkenly coaxed me into going to an after party at the boys’ hotel, which inevitably led to us crashing in one of their messy rooms. I had woken up with a start at seven, cursing myself for drinking just enough to make bad decisions and ignoring my phone’s alarm that I had so consciously set last night. But as I nagged the room awake, Abigail didn’t seem too shaken. She whined for me to go back to bed, obviously not hearing the string of words involving ‘father’ and ‘surgery.’ In turn, Harry had a shirt on and was stumbling into his scuffed up boots in a minute flat, saying something about a rental car.

I was too flustered to even politely hesitate against his kind-hearted offer. Even as I was running through the hospital, I couldn’t wrap my head around the situation. But deep down, I wondered if I had been calmer, if I had taken a deep breath and slowed down, would it have even mattered? Harry had already become such a part of my dad’s illness, weaving himself in with words of advice and constant check-ups, I hardly bat an eye at the thought of him tagging along. In a way, it was easier. If he was there with me during the surgery, it was one less text I’d be sending him.

“Hurry up, they might have taken him in early,” I called to my curly haired companion. Of course, he was right on my tail, all thanks to his long legs, but nevertheless, he sped up, appearing to my right just as we entered the room.

Laura was straight in my view the moment I walked in and her eyes swooped to me instantaneously. She smiled and stood up quickly as I ambled towards her with open arms, “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

In a warm embrace, she shook her head and brushed her fingers through a few knots in my hair, “Oh, love, don’t worry. You’re right on time.”

As she released me, I found myself wishing she had held me for a little longer. I didn’t want to face my father just yet, even though I could feel his presence right beside me, staring me down. I wanted to pretend all was well, that the surgery was done with, that maybe I was visiting someone else here. But moments were short and as my blue eyes met his matching ones, my heart felt what it was dreading.

He looked sicker than I remembered, older than I remembered. His skin had grown pasty, he looked thinner, the dark circles under his eyes were haunting. But somehow, he was still smiling and it was just enough of my playful dad to make me rush to his side and throw my arms around his neck.

“Goodmorning to you, too,” he chuckled as he patted my back. If he noticed my attire, my bare feet or my matted, smeared make up, he didn’t mention it.

I probably would have held on longer if Laura hadn’t taken her chance to update in a soft voice, “The surgery is still at eight. They’ll probably be in, in just a few to take him.”

With big, naïve eyes, I glanced from Laura to my father, “Chances are in our favor, right? I mean, they have an inkling it’s going to be okay, right?”

The room got eerily silent. I felt like I was six years old again, standing hopefully in front of my mother with a Christmas list in hand, and her frustrated response was nothing but, ‘Erin, Santa Claus isn’t real. Santa Claus is mommy and daddy and we just can’t afford to play pretend this year.’

“We can only hope, dear,” Laura finally sighed, just as I felt my father squeeze my hand.

I don’t know why, but it felt like I wasn’t on the same team as my father and Laura. I felt like I was being ganged up on. They were realistically down on earth, figuring to take the fight as it came, but I was up in the air, gazing at a finish line that might not have even existed. I felt small and helpless and my first instinct was to look to the outsider in the fight, to see if he would join my side. Harry’s green orbs were staring directly at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. He just stood near the door with his hands behind his back.

I chose not to revert back to Erin at six years young. I chose to keep my wails of desperation, hope, denial and resentment to myself. As much as I wanted to start crying and shake my head, screaming that Santa Claus was real and I was on his good list this year, I kept quiet.

My father took this time to pat my hand with his and change the subject. Maybe he sensed the wall I was building, but with a cheery tone, he teased, “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend here?”

Before I could get a word out, Harry was already taking big steps further into the room and extending a hand to Laura, then my father. It was like he had a switch or a dial of some sort, where the charm could be dimmed or raised in moments of necessity. In a flash, he was grinning wide, dimples showing as his deep, slow voice overpowered the room, “Sorry to intrude. I’m Harry, I came for moral support.”

“How sweet,” Laura simultaneously said, as my father let out a polite, “Nice to meet you, son.”

I spoke up finally, my manners coming back to me in a flash, “Harry is Liam’s bandmate. You remember Liam Payne, right? From secondary school?”

“The name sounds familiar,” my father tried, but I knew the name didn’t stick. He hadn’t exactly been fond of Liam upon meeting him, due to the protective father act he loved to play up and Liam’s bad boy act at the time. After their encounter, I was sure not to have the two cross paths again. That was years ago and since then, I had only brought Abigail around my parents.

Nevertheless, Laura caught on quick, “Liam was the one on the X Factor, right? He got so far with his little friends. I saw his face on a bus just the other day, I’m sure of it.” It took her another moment but eventually, she gasped, “Oh, my, and that must mean I saw your face as well. We have a star among us!”

Claiming Harry had just simply abashedly blushed would have been an understatement. His cheeks produced a shade of pink way beyond me. He stumbled over a humbled statement and I couldn’t help but place a hand over my mouth to stop a laugh from escaping. I had never seen him so timid. Usually, he was boasting about himself and I was bright enough to sense the sarcasm. I could see that this was his norm, though; denying the accusations of ultimate fame and reassuring the world that he was just as he presented himself as: a teenage boy who managed to score quite the opportunity.

“Well, any selfless friend of Erin’s who is willing to be here with her so early, is welcome whenever,” my father stated. I watched Harry’s expression change from embarrassed to seemingly pleased in a moment. He gave a curt nod, as if he understood how monumental it was, gaining my father’s approval in just minutes flat, but before I could really register it, and more than likely let out some snappy comment about not even Abgail gaining that approval so quick, the presumed surgeon walked in with a nurse.

“Mr. Coyne, we’re ready to take you in whenever you’re ready,” she said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. Her name tag said Dr. Holmes and as a nurse began helping my father out of bed and into a wheelchair, she looked to me, her poised grin widening, “And you must be Erin. Your father was telling me how he wouldn’t go in until his daughter arrived.”

I glanced towards him, but he was too busy talking to nurse about something or other. I forced a smile, “That’s me.”

“Well, don’t you worry. Your father is in good hands,” she spoke confidently. “I promise.”

I couldn’t find a response for her. Somehow, a moment ago, that was all I had wanted to hear. But finally getting it, without asking for it, it seemed empty, insincere and I realized I hadn’t wanted reassurance like I had wanted from Liam and Laura and my father. A surgeon had recited these lines to families before; the faith in their work wasn’t the same kind of faith I had invested in my family, my routine, my father. I just wanted someone on my side – rooting for me and my desire for things to flip back to normal.

Laura bent down and gave my father a small kiss of good luck, Harry shook his hand again and I gave him a long, hard hug. The nurse wheeled him out, but not before he let a moment of optimism slip, “See you all when I’m better.”

My heart sunk a bit, but as my eyes kept locked on the door, I felt Harry come up behind me and place his hands gently on my shoulders and give them a light squeeze.