baby [h.s.]

eleven

Days went by. Too many flew away. I was left alone to drown in thoughts, in memories, and in worries.

He didn't visit or try to contact me. Maybe he was mad at the way I acted, or maybe he felt guilty and didn't want to bother me. But that's the thing; I wanted him to bother me. I needed him to.

An addiction to happiness, brought on by a boy with dark brown hair.

Did I find a job in those days? No.

Did I make a friend or two? Not one.

I just worried; I worried and watched movies, worried and read books, worried and drank tea. What if he left? What if that man came back for us and took Harry?

Why did it matter so much to me? It shouldn't have. What did Harry mean to me? My answer should've been not much, but instead it was a whole hell of a lot. I found myself craving his presence.

"I'm a mess," I said to myself as I stood up from my position on my bed. I was just deciding what to do when my phone rang.

A part of me hoped for it to be Harry, but all thoughts of Harry disappeared when I saw my mother's name displayed on the top of the screen. Slowly, I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Matilda!" My mother barked. "How dare you move and not inform me?"

I realized what was happening; she was at my old flat. I had no reason to tell her that I was moving; I had figured that she wouldn't care.

"I didn't think you would care," I said.

"I'm your mother, you are to tell me these things,"

I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying something that would cause more conflict. Instead, I just sighed, "Why are you calling, mum? What do you need?"

"I need to speak to you about a letter I received,"

My eyebrows creased. "Okay?"

"Where is your new flat, I need to speak to you in person about this,"

I sighed. "Mum, can I just meet you at the café we used to meet at when I was in school? By the palace?"

"I'll be there in an hour, don't be late,"

"Yeah, whatever Mum," I hung up.

I didn't see why this was relevant, or why she needed me to look at the letter, but I didn't feel like fighting with my mother. Instead, I just grabbed my purse and walked out of my bedroom. My keys were on the counter, as was my oyster card, so I grabbed them both and slipped on some shoes as I went.

It took me only five minutes to get to the tube station. The next departure to the Palace was only a few minutes away. I had to rush to get on in time.

There were few people on; it was two in the afternoon on a Wednesday. People were at work. I took a seat beside the door.

When we started moving, I glanced at my outfit, knowing my mother wouldn't be pleased. I was wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt with some simple trainers, a coat on top.

Once we arrived, it took me five minutes to leave and walk to the café. I arrived five minutes before my mother would consider me late, and she was already waiting.

"Matilda," she acknowledged me as I approached the table she was sitting at. Her eyes scanned my outfit. "You couldn't have dressed nicer?"