Luck

I woke up on Saturday with a heavy feeling in my stomach. As hard as I was trying to forget that Michael’s birthday was today, I couldn’t. Last year, we had all gone out to dinner and had a nice little celebration, complete with presents and cake. Michael was a senior at Boston University, and I had been a senior in high school, and afterwards, he had shown me around the campus for the ten thousandth time, in an attempt to get me to choose BU. But waking up today was just one of many opportunities I had to think about how much could change in a year.

Still, there was no time to mess around. The end of the term was coming up quickly, and I had some grades (or marks) that still needed to be saved. And Lou had asked me to watch Lux in the morning. Not to mention, the dreaded movie date with Harry, which I was beginning to regret agreeing to. I half considered dragging Eva along the way Harry had brought Niall last time, but I knew she would never agree to it.

Sitting up, the card I had bought nearly a week ago caught my eye. It was still blank, and still needed postage and to be mailed. I knew that it wouldn’t get there in time for Michael’s birthday, but it was the thought that counts. Besides, I had a feeling it would probably be a bad birthday for him, and maybe this would make it better, several days later.

I rushed to get ready, having slept in slightly later than planned and spending too much time pondering my life over a bowl of cereal. No good message had come to mind, nor had a good excuse to get out of the date with Harry.

On my way out, I grabbed the blank card. I held it in my hands the entire ride over, meaning to write a message in it, but writer’s block plagued me. I made up my mind to figure out something while Lux napped.

I made the mistake of taking Lux with me to go drop off Michael's birthday card. There was a post office not too far from her house, only a couple of bus stops away, and she had asked me for an outing, so I figured this would be a good one. We had spent the morning playing in the garden, and lunchtime inside, as we had the day before, and I knew she would be itching to get out.

Taking a risk, I didn't bring Lux's stroller with us. She was at the age where walking was just about her favorite thing, and there was a bus route that would take us almost exactly where we needed to go.

"This one, Savvy?" She pulled on my hand as bus approached. She gazed as the bus came closer and pulled to a stop.

I nodded, "This one. Step up carefully, okay, Lux?"

She nodded and grasped my hand as we stepped up on the the bus. It was relatively empty and we were able to find two seats together quickly, with Lux taking the window seat.

There was a line. There was a line at the post office to buy international stamps, and I needed to mail my card to Michael. Well, first I needed to buy the appropriate postage and then I needed to write a little note about how I hoped he had a happy birthday even though he was in jail and I missed him, but please don’t try to contact me. Except more polite and put together than that.

Lux pulled on my hand multiple times, asking how much longer we would be. Finally, I settled on something simple:

Happy birthday, Michael! I love & miss you. Much love, Savannah.

It was hardly the heartfelt note I had intended to write, and it hardly touched on what I really wanted to say, but it did. The envelope had already been addressed, but I didn’t put a return address on it. Using the machines to buy the necessary postage, I let Lux put the letter down the slot.

“Ready?” I asked her. I was answered with a nod and a quick sprint forward, although she stalled, needing help with the doors.

Somehow, while we had taken our time in the post office, a mob had developed outside of the front doors. I wasn’t able to figure out what was happening; some people were yelling and police sirens were blaring in the distance. Lux toddled along beside me, but froze in her tracks the second she was faced by an endless sea of legs.

“Lux, hold my hand please!” I cried as I grasped on to her little fingers.

“Savvy,” she choked. She looked up at me with fear in her eyes, begging to be picked up, “Savvy.”

“I know, Luxy,” I said as I swung her up in my arms, “Shh, it’s okay.”

“Don’t like, Savvy,” She told me, resting her head on my shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and for a second I thought for sure I was about to have a crying toddler on my hands.

“Shh, it’s okay, Luxy. We’re going, we’re going.” Holding her tightly, I pushed my way through the crowd. I knew that it wasn’t proper etiquette in England, but my American was showing. I had to get away from the crowd. I felt claustrophobic and I knew Lux was seconds away from tears. But we fought our way through, despite the evil eye several people gave us as we cut in front of them.

We climbed back on the bus, and I finally was able to place Lux down on one of the few empty seats. Her teary eyes had mostly dried at this point, but several older ladies on the bus still shot me sympathetic looks as they saw her. The rest of the trip passed without incident, and by the time we disembarked the bus by Lou’s house, Lux was ready to walk by herself again.

“There you girls are!” Lou said as we neared the house. She was out in the yard. I gave her a warm smile as I approached.

I put Lux down and she sprinted to her mother, screaming, “Mumma!” the way she always did.

“Hi, Lou,” I greeted her, as she picked Lux up, kissing her on the forehead, “We took a little trip to the post office.”

“Did you?” Lou asked, “I wish you had told me, I have a few letters that I would have had you mail.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I bit my lip, “There was a bit of a crowd there, anyway. Lux was a bit upset by it all, I think.”

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Lou brushed her hand over Lux’s forehead, “You have to remember, she’s been on tour with the world’s biggest boy band for quite some time now. As strange as it seems, she’s used to it.”

“I guess that’s true,” I allowed, letting my guilt subside a bit, “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful. I didn’t know there would be such a crowd at the post office.”

"Savannah, really. Don’t worry about it,” Lou gave me a reassuring smile, before placing Lux down, “Go play.”

Always obedient, Lux followed her mother’s orders and ran to her chalk, which had been left out from this morning.

“Your hair is getting so long," Lou commented, taking a strand in her hands.

"I know," I said, examining a strand or two myself. It was full of split ends and certainly had seen better days, "It's been a while since I've gotten it cut or even trimmed."

"Well, if you ever want it done, just tell me. I'll be happy to cut it for you. Be nice cutting a girl's hair for once."

"I will," I assured her, “I will.”

[&&&]

Harry’s house was cleaner than the last time I had been in, although it hadn’t been messy last time. It was just obvious that he (or someone) had gone to lengths to clean the counters and tidy up.
He had let me in with a dopey smile on his face, and was now doing his own version of playing host.

“Are you hungry?” Harry backed up towards his kitchen, “Thirsty? Do you need or want anything? just tell me if you do.”

“I already ate,” I followed him, “I grabbed something with my roommate.”

Harry looked slightly crestfallen, “Oh. Well, there’s ice cream or anything if you want some.”

“I’m good for now, thanks.” I gave him a smile and tried to ignore his disappointment.

“What have you been up to today?” he asked as we settled into his kitchen.

“It’s my brother’s birthday today,” I said casually, like it wasn’t the thing that had been bugging me all day, “He’s turning twenty-three.”

“Really?” Harry asked, brightening up slightly, “That’s how old my sister is.”

“That’s cool,” I said.

“Did you call your brother?” Harry grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and tossed one to me.

I shook my head, “No, I didn’t. International calls are expensive.”

“You can use my phone to call him.” Harry’s offer hardly came as a surprise; if I had learned anything about him in my short time of knowing him, it was that he was a giver.

“No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.” I opened up my water bottle and didn’t look Harry in the eye as I refused.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, “I don’t mind at all. I travel a lot. I have international calling and all that.”

“I sent him a card,” I ran my finger over the edge of his granite counter tops. They were smooth and cold, similar to the ones in my house.

“Did your grandparents call him?”

“Probably not. They’re not really the type of grandparents to call on birthdays.” I finally looked up at him, curious as to his reaction.

“Really?” Harry looked around before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. He didn’t bother washing it before he sank his teeth in.

“Harry, have you met my grandparents? You’re the one who’s always telling me how stereotypically old they are.”

“They are strict and grumpy and stereotypically old,” Harry took a bite of his apple, “But still? Not sending a card and a bill or two to their own grandkids on their birthday seems harsh.”

I shrugged, “Currency conversion and all, I guess. We never got money from them on our birthdays. That was more of my mom’s parent’s thing.”

“Well did they call your brother - what did you say his name was?”

“Michael.”

“Yeah, Michael. Did they call Michael today?” Harry’s face was full of concern, especially considering he had never met my brother.

“They’re dead, so I hope not.” It was blunt and I knew that, but I didn’t really care.

"Oh," Harry paused awkwardly, "I'm sorry."

"It was a few years ago. It's fine."

“Do you want to go to the living room, then?” Harry gestured to the living room, which was open to the kitchen, “We can watch that movie, yeah?”

“Uh, sure.” I slid off my chair and made the short walk from the kitchen to the living room and sat down on the couch I had slept on not too long ago.

Harry flipped the tv on. It was muted and some news story about a British celebrity getting arrested was playing. It was indecent; a public arrest. Cameras were surrounding him, and the police were escorting him to the back of the police car.

"Guess that must be something,” Harry mused, “Having your failures posted all over the internet and the telly like that for the whole world to see.”

“Yeah, I wonder what he did.” We were quickly approaching the danger area of conversation, and I was scared as to what would come next.

“Could be just about anything. Us famous people get into all sorts of trouble, you know?” Harry commented with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, yeah. Squeaky clean One Direction. It’s a miracle you haven’t been arrested. Or have you?” I raised my eyebrow at Harry.

“I can say without lying I haven’t been arrested,” Harry confirmed, “What about you?”

I bit my lip for a second, trying to decide what to say.

“I can’t say the same,” I said, my voice calmer, stronger and more confident that I was expecting, “But don’t ask about it.”

Harry was unaffected by my confession, "Savannah, I know your parents are drug dealers.”

My jaw dropped, “They’re not - They’re - I can’t - They’re alleged drug dealers,” I said finally. My voice was firm when I finally found what I wanted to say, but it was also sharp and emotional.

“Right, sorry.” Harry took a pause before starting again, “Savannah, I know your parents are alleged drug dealers.”

Harry stared at me, waiting for my reaction. I could feel the blood rushing to my face, and I knew it was quickly becoming flushed.

“How?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

“I Googled you,” Harry shrugged, “I Googled you after I gave you a ride to Holmes Chapel.”

“Oh,” I breathed, trying my hardest to keep from crying, “But we had a deal.”

“I know,” Harry said, "and for that, I apologize. I shouldn't have done that. But you shouldn’t have gone to such lengths to hide it, either."

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I was ashamed; he was right, “I should have told you.”

“Have you told anyone?” Harry asked. There was a slightly judgmental aspect to his voice, “I’m guessing not.”

“No,” I admitted, “I don’t want people to know and think I’m some sort of criminal, too.”

"So you don’t know of anyone who knows about your parents?” Harry rested his arm on the top of the couch. It could have been romantic if I wasn’t so far away and so close to tears.

A single tear slipped down my face, "I mean, if you could figure it out, other people might have." I turned to him, “Do other people know?”

“Lou knows,” Harry said, “And Niall. And the whole band, really. But they don’t really care. Hell, Lou hired you to watch her only daughter, she doesn’t give a fuck.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t positive what I was feeling. Shame, anger, hurt, relief. “Oh, oh, oh.”

"Did you know?" Harry asked, "Growing up, I mean."

"No, no," I shook my head and wiped several tears that had escaped away, "They told me they were both accountants. It made sense to me. I never questioned it; why should I? Do you sit there and wonder if your parents have been lying about their occupation all along?"

“No,” Harry agreed. His was transforming into a sorry expression, “I just can’t imagine…”

"It was the worst day of my life, the day they got arrested.” I said simply, as if it could be summed up in a sentence, “The day I got arrested.”

“Your brother’s in jail, too,” Harry stated, “That’s why you don’t want to call him.”

“I, uh… yeah. Michael’s in jail and so are my parents but I dodged the bullet and I’m here in London,” I told him, “And that’s why I didn’t call him. Because he’s in jail and I don’t even know how to call someone in jail from back home, much less from London.”

“I’m sure there’s a way, we could look it up. You could use my phone - ”

“I don’t want to, Harry,” I cut him off with more force than I intended, “I don’t want to call Michael. What the hell would I say to him? Sorry you’re in jail and I’m not. Sorry our parents may or may not be drug lords and/or murderers and have committed several other felonies and you’re being punished for it and I’m not? I can’t say that to him. You can’t say that your brother.”

Tears were falling quickly now, but I was still angry. They weren’t sobs, they were just tears, “They’re not even allowed out on bond. Too likely to flee the country or something like that. Because it turns out that all those business associates my parents had were actually the leaders of drug cartels, who probably have private jets and ways to get people out of countries when it’s necessary. So my parents are just locked up, probably forever, and what the hell can I do about it? Nothing! I can’t do fucking anything.”

Harry stared at me, seemingly surprised by my outburst of emotion, but he remained silent. He reached his hand out to comfort me, yet I swatted him away.

“How the fuck do parents even get involved in this sort of shit?” I cried, “I didn’t even know where you could buy fucking weed in high school and my parents were in charge of importing coke and heroin and all this hardcore stuff that sounds scary.”

Harry laughed lightly, a sort of awkward giggle and I nearly punched him.

“It’s not fucking funny!” I yelled, frustration piercing my voice, “Is this a fucking joke to you?! It’s my real fucking life! How the hell am I supposed to tell my kids that the reason they don’t have grandparents is because they’re in jail? How the hell am I supposed to tell my future husband why my parents won’t be attending our wedding!? How the fuck am I supposed to live with this?!”

“Savannah, calm down,” Harry’s voice was still full of amusement, and my blood was nearly boiling with anger.

I clocked him. It didn’t register with me what I had done, but while I continued, Harry jumped back.

“What the fuck? I told you: this isn’t fucking funny. You probably think it is because you don’t have to deal with it. You’re Harry fucking Styles and the whole world loves you. Nobody thinks you’re a fucking criminal. Nobody’s accusing you of murdering their son. You’re so fucking lucky because you were in the right time at the right place and now you’re living the high life. Well guess what?! Not all of us can have that. We’re not all as lucky as you are, Harry,” I stood up, “I’m leaving. Goodbye. Thanks for having me.”

Harry grabbed my wrist, “Savannah. Stay.”

I shook him off, but he grabbed my arm and repeated himself. This time, his voice was so comforting and soft, that I couldn’t help but fall back on to his couch.

Finally, the sobs that I had been fighting with the entire time overtook me. I cried and cried and cried, and Harry held me while I babbled on about my fucking parents and fucking life and how fucking anger I was. Harry didn’t try to say anything else, and he just listened as I screamed and cried and sobbed over everything I had lost in the last few months.

Eventually, my tears began to dry and the dry heaving slowed. We sat in silence for a long while, Harry still rubbing soft circles onto my back. I breathed carefully, trying to calm myself down.

“I’m sorry I punched you.” I stared at the floor awkwardly. I wiped the last of my escaped tears from my eyes.

“That’s okay. I probably deserved that. There’s a time and place to be cheeky but that wasn’t it.” Harry gave me a kind smile, the type that told me that he understood why I did it and wasn’t mad.

“So you don’t hate me?” I asked, a smile gracing my own face.

“Hate you? No,” Harry told me, “I think you might need to see a shrink, though.”

“Probably,” I laughed. A silence fell over us as I contemplated my next move, “I should go home.”

“It’s late, Savannah. Past midnight.”

The clock on Harry’s mantle proved to be right, surprising me. It wasn’t past eight when I had arrived, and there had been several minutes of small talk before my little breakdown.

“Oh,” I said quietly.

“You should stay,” Harry offered, “And don’t say no because then I would have to drive you back to your flat and it’s late and that doesn’t sound like fun. I have a guest room. I won’t even make you sleep on the couch this time.”

“You wouldn’t have to drive me,” I told him.

“It’s so late, Savannah, I would feel bad if I didn’t.” He yawned loudly for added effect, “C’mon. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you the guest room.”

Too tired to fight him, I followed as he led me up the stairs. Harry pointed out the two guest rooms, warning that one was frequently used by his family members, and the bathroom that they shared. He searched the linen closet for some toiletries and gave me a towel and an unopened toothbrush before disappearing into another room for some clothes.

“We didn’t watch a movie,” I said somewhat stupidly. I was sleepier than I wanted to admit, coming down all the tears.

Harry smiled, “Yeah, but that’s okay. We can do it another day. You got everything you need?”

“I think so, thanks,” I glanced down at the bundle of clothes and other necessities he had offered me. They were all strangely feminine, but I knew better than to ask.

“Harry?” He had already turned to go back to his own room, but he spun back around to face me.

“Yeah, Savannah?”

“Thank you.”