As the phone rings, I pace back and forth in my living room in front of my TV that is on mute. If the sound was on, I would be too distracted, but if the TV was completely off, I would lose my mind. The quiet television is a good enough distraction without having me give up on the phone call all together.
My breathing has become much more labored than it was earlier today. The anticipation of what is going to be said over the phone is a level of panic I never thought I would experience.
"Hello?"
"Charlie." I greet my brother. If I wasn't so panicked with what was going on, I probably could have cried because of the voice I haven't heard in so long. It sounds like my childhood. "What is going on? Why are you calling so often?"
"Nothing gets past you."
"I don't have time to joke around right now, please, just tell me."
I hear a long sigh from the other end of the phone. "Dad wants you home and he's going to call soon. I tried to give you a few weeks warning, but you never answered."
"You could have left a voicemail." I point out to him.
"Then you wouldn't have talked to me and I couldn't hear your voice. I miss you, sis."
It's my turn to sigh. I stop my movements to sit on the couch. "I miss you too, Charlie. Now, what the fuck is going on? Why is dad going to tell me to come home? How can I avoid coming home?"
"You can't avoid it, Morgan. Dad is serious about this. I was told not to tell you anything, but you need to be prepared to come home when he calls."
"Why? What happened?" I practically plead to him. "Is grandma okay?"
Charlie groans and I can feel his frustration. "Morgan, I can't tell you. It's late there, go to bed."
This prompts me to look at the clock. I realize I put off calling him back for a few hours, it's now 10pm. "I'm not going to be able to sleep until you tell me grandma is okay."
"She's okay enough."
"What does that mean?!" I yell at him. "I swear to God Charlie, if you don't tell me-"
I hear the line go dead. "Fuck!" I scream at no one in particular.
For the next five hours, I lay in bed just staring at the ceiling. There's no good reason why my dad would want me home that doesn't have to do with my grandma. I want to call her just to make sure she's okay, but I'm also afraid of the real answer.
Around three am, I decided that I should start packing my things if I had to go home. I take out my laptop and start looking into flights home and storage lockers. If my grandma is sick, she will get better soon and I will be back to my normal life. I don't book a flight because if I know my dad, he'll have one already booked for me.
I pull out all my suitcases and start putting clothes in them, leaving my work clothes on hangers. Charlie didn't give me a specific day my father was going to call, so I have to put clothes aside for work.
My mind eventually led me to think of Harry and what I would tell him. This troubled me more than I thought it would. If this is a short trip, like I have been planning for, this shouldn't be a problem. However, we are not in a serious relationship so I'm not sure if he wants to continue what we're doing long distance. I groan and roll onto my stomach, burying my head in my pillow.
At 7am, my alarm goes off, making me jolt up, not realizing I had fallen asleep. I have to get ready for work and on top of that, questions Harry is going to ask about the phone call.
I slept on what to do, and I have come to the conclusion to not let him know I'm leaving. I think I should just pick up and leave. From watching romantic comedies, I know I shouldn't do this, but it will be a lot easier. I will give him the news of who is scamming him, let him get mad at me and then leave. Much less painful for him if he hates me. It will hurt me a lot more and that's how I want it. Maybe when I come back he'll forgive me and we can get back to what it is we're doing. If not, I have to accept my choice and move on.
Not forgetting to stop at Starbucks, I grab Brian and I's normal order and continue on to work. I got here earlier than normal so Brian hasn't arrived. I leave his coffee on his desk and make my way up, not waiting for the person hurrying to try to get onto the elevator. Normally I would, I'm not a rude person, but I would like as much time to myself as I can get.
Walking into my office, I throw my stuff down and start packing up what little I have. There's a framed photo of Harry, Niall, Louis and I when we went to a concert last month. Niall gifted it to me on Halloween as a joke. He also informed me that Louis, Harry and him have matching pictures. I was confused as to why he gave it to me on Halloween, but he made a stupid joke about eye candy.
The day goes by quickly and I try to avoid Harry as much as possible. It was successful and I saw him once when I needed to have him sign something. He was on the phone so he was unable to hold a conversation with me. It was the best case scenario for me and the rest of the week continued on like this.
Charlie told me that my dad was going to call soon and ask me to come home soon after his call. I have a strange feeling that soon is going to happen later this week and I'll be on the plane to go home this weekend.
Turns out I was right. On Thursday, after a successful week of avoiding Harry, Brian and anyone who means anything to me goes by, my cell phone rings and it is my father on the other line.
"Dad." I answer the phone, clearly letting him know my feelings about his call with the dead tone of my voice.
"Morgan, I have scheduled a private plane to take you home from the private section of the London Airport on Sunday." He replies strongly. This tone of voice lets me know there is no arguing. I suddenly feel 17 again.
I let out a frustrated sigh, "So you're telling me I have 72 hours before I have to be home, all the way in New York. You are giving me 72 hours and ripping me from my life over here without telling me why. I want you to tell me why you are making me come home after five years of being away from this bullshit."
"If I tell you, I'm afraid you won't come home."
"I will come home if you tell me that grandma is okay. You won't hear me complaining about coming home, but please let me be able to know that grandma is okay and is going to be okay." I held back a sob.
These past few days, the only thing that kept me up was hoping and praying my grandmother would be okay. For five years she is the only one in my family that has cared to keep in contact. She and I have a special bond, always have and always will so it kills me that I don't know the state of her health.
After hearing my dad take a deep breath in, he says, "She's okay, she's not in the hospital. I'm sorry for her not talking to you for the past few days. She has just been going along with my request to not be in contact with you. As messed up as it is, Morgan, you have to come home. You have responsibilities here that you have to take care of and you would not come home if you know what they are. I'm sorry for worrying you, but now it's time to come home."
"Fine, see you very late Sunday night. The flight is to not take off until after 3pm the earliest. I will have some things to tie off right before I go."
The phone goes dead and I feel how I haven't felt in five years. I feel like I did when I was 18 and ready to leave home. An overwhelming sense of urgency to get out. My trip home did not sit well with me and the way my dad had spoken makes me think I'm going to be gone for a long time.
At this point, I should go tell Harry what is happening, but I can't bring myself to it. I made my decision not to tell him and I think I should stand by that.
I go on my computer and continue to look into storage lockers. Hours later, I decide on a locker. I can keep it for a month but give the information to Brian to take it out. He can decide whether he wants to keep, sell or donate my furniture.
For the rest of the night, I debate how to tell Brian I am leaving. Many ways pass through my mind, but none of them seem right. I guess there is no good way to tell someone who means the world to you and has supported you for years that you're leaving. It also doesn't help that I'm involved with Harry, his grandson. This might hurt him a lot more than I thought.
It also crosses my mind that Harry and I have "date night" Saturday night. It's the one night of the week Harry and I go out to a restaurant, switch back and forth of who gets to pick. Since the first one, Harry has come a long way figuring out what I like. We have been to all kinds of places and tried a bunch of different foods. Our two rules are: never eat at the same style of restaurant back to back and we have to try something new on the menu if we have been to the place before. This week is Harry's pick which is good, one less thing I have to worry about.
When the time comes, I go through my normal routine: Starbucks, work and then home. It's like my first years working for Styles: no time for friends and no looking up.
By noon no one has come to bother me or asked for anything. I get a flower delivery at 12:30. The same flowers as I got on my birthday sit on my desk, making me almost break down. This is much more emotional for me than I was thinking it was going to be.
Let's go for lunch. I want to talk.
xx H
I get up from my desk and grab the note, my heartrate picking up. I make my way to Harry's office, not bothering to speak to his assistant, just knocking on his door and walking in.
"I can't go to lunch, sorry." I decide to be direct with what I am saying rather than beat around the bush for no reason. It's not that I want to be a dick, I just don't know what other way to go about up and leaving without arising suspicion. I would guess this is doing the opposite, but it's something I will have to live with.
Harry pauses for a moment, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair, he responds, "You can, you simply don't want to."
I shake my head, "Not true."
"Morgan," his voice raises ever so slightly, "after the phone call from your brother, you have not been acting like yourself. You are so withdrawn from everyone and everything. I just want to help." He pleads with me.
"We have date night tomorrow night." I state, actively ignoring his comment of helping me. "I'll see you then. I'm sorry," I say and actually mean, "I just need a little more time to think this through," with that, I turn and walk out.
The next few hours are spent behind my desk pretending to do work for Liam when I'm actually rigging a personal laptop so I can still help when I get back to New York. After that, I go home, order food in and think of how I'm going to lie to Harry all day and night tomorrow before I actually have to leave.