Views

Views: Hail Mary

It was raining, again, she had been sitting in this costa coffee since she arrived, when she had got out of the ridiculously priced taxi into central London. From a tumblr search she knew that Harry lived in Hampstead and frequented Primrose Hill, so here she was.  But, unless she really got her degree in stalking, she was unlikely to cross his path. Alysia still hadn't heard from him, but her phone didn't seem to be working here.  She had wifi in the coffee shop, but she realized she had no idea how to contact him. She had imessaged when she got on wifi, but she didn't have his email, and contacting him on social media was a fool's errand. One comment among a sea of thousands.  They had never followed each other on social media, a hallmark of the millennial couple. Their relationship was much more face to face, which she liked. But this uncertainty underscored all of her fears.  She didn't know where he lived, or how to find him in his other home city. She had spent the last minute flight freaking out about what she had said on his voicemail. Alysia had had valid points when they argued, he endangered both of them and they did not talk enough, always getting carried away with the feel of each other. She couldn't find it in herself to take it back though. She was in love with him, she held back because she had been burned, but he was irresistible.  Not just because of who he was, more inspite of it. He was thoughtful and sweet, and sexy and goofy and so slick but a total clutz. He was charming, but so genuine, he was everything, and she was gone. He knew her better than he had cause to, because he studied her like she was his favorite subject.

She had confessed to his voicemail out of desperation, but after a fruitless search of LAX and a tearful sobbing return to Simi Valley, she knew she meant it.  Maureen had known before her, as she always did. More than a sister, Maureen had raised her after their mother died while they bounced from place to place. When Alysia walked into the door and broke down at the threshold, her big sister had held her close and rocked her through it, before handing her the ticket.

"Go, your flight leaves at 11:05."

"What?" Alysia was dumbfounded. "Maureen, you can't, you worked so hard to save that money."

"Alysia, I know you love me and the kids, but you are 23 years old, and you spend all your time raising my kids and taking care of me.  Harry lights you up and breaks you open in a way that I never even hoped to see. You have to go, if he rejects you, even then it won't be a waste." Maureen chuckled at Alysia's expression, "he won't, he loves you too. Get on the plane, go get your boy."

"Thank you, I need to pack," Alysia stirred, but Maureen handed her a backpack.

"Done! It's a one-way ticket. I expect Mr. Styles to fly you home. I mean I wasn't gonna kill my whole savings," she grinned.  "That ticket is a hell of a lot of massages."

"Maureen," Alysia looked at her laughing out loud while tears streamed down her face, "thank you!"

"Thank me by getting on that plane, you're going to miss your flight," Maureen stressed.

"My passport," Alysia remembered.

"In the front pocket, get the hell out of here."

So Alysia went, wiped her tears and rode the red eye British airways flight to Heathrow. Got in a black cab, and here she was, had been for 6 hours.  She had a small savings, but a hotel anywhere nearby would wipe her out. There were hostels, but they were in central London. She was in a holding pattern until she heard from him, or decided to risk arrest by going to his door.  The internet was a scary place, someone must know where he lived, or had seen him.  The crazier directioners may be her only hope here. So she kept drinking coffee, not even switching to decaf. She spent the flight trying to talk herself out of going to Harry, maybe she should just wait until he came back. Every time she came to that decision, she thought of the pained look on his face as Will claimed her and felt sick to her stomach. She would see this through, if only to explain herself. Maybe if she could stop crying she'd see what London looked like, or realized she hadn't slept in 36 hours. The flight attendants had taken one look at her and found her an open row in the back, offered here tea and blankets, she'd have to find a mirror before she found Harry.