Savior

The Girl on the Phone

"You have some serious explaining to do, mister."

And I did –have some explaining to do, that is.

About why I am wearing jeans I haven't washed in three weeks. About why I came to mum's for her birthday and have spent the whole time sulking. About why in the world I kissed Layla on that hill, about why in the world I told her I would forget about it. About why I licked chocolate off of her, about why that taste is still on my tongue. About why I am dating a woman that I clearly shouldn't be with anymore.

I have many things to explain to many people but this instance involves a certain ailing mother of mine and my absence in her life.

Which is something I hadn't really felt bad about until now.

If the tufts of dark hair sprouting from her head didn't give it away, her sunken cheeks and ghostly pale skin did. Or maybe it was the fact that just getting up to fetch me some tea resulted in her collapsing back in her chair with heavy breaths and sweaty skin.

The radiation is taking a toll on her. A heavy toll.

And I have been avoiding visiting her for that exact reason. It's too hard to see her like this, knowing I can't do a damn thing to stop it.

Lying seems to be the better option here, "I know I haven't been around much. I've just been busy with potential buyers –art is in high demand lately."

This doesn't appease her like I thought it would. Instead, her barely-there eyebrows scrunch together and a deep frown spreads on her lips because she knows why I sell my art. Who's hospital bills I pay for with that money.

"You need to take it easy, Haz. Don't work yourself too hard, you look exhausted."

And there she is –my mother. Telling me to take it easy, to not work too hard when she is battling a disease. Battling her own body that is trying to kill her.

"Niall says hi," I change the subject, wringing my hands together, "So does Eliza. They both wanted to come, but Eliza has the café and Niall and I's boss has been a real knob lately and-"

"Why are you here, Harry?"

And there it is- the question I have been avoiding since I walked through her door two days ago.

Two days since I was licking on Layla's peach skin and hearing her moan my name. Two days since Layla rejected me for the second time. Two days and all I can do is think about her and Jaime and what the hell I am meant to do.

"What, I can't just visit my ill mother on her birthday with no ulterior motives?" And she scoffs then because she knows me much too well.

"You've always been a terrible liar, sweetie. What happened? Why are you here looking like you haven't slept since the day you were born?"

And I really, really don't want to tell her because she raised me right. She raised me much too right and I know that if I told her that I cheated on my girlfriend not once, but twice she would get that look on her face. That sad eyes and crossed arms look that every mum has perfected that lets you know you really fucked up.

But, I feel like there is this weight on chest that has been there for weeks and every time Layla laughs or looks my way or even breathes near me, the pressure gets heavier and I'm just tired of the weight.

I need my mum to tell me what to do because I am drowning.

"I met someone."

She pauses because it is simple and vague and her brows furrow, "I thought... Gemma told me that you've been seeing someone for a while now?"