Starting Position

Chapter 22

Ten weeks remained, and the days were now blending together. It became difficult to separate them as one day's events would mix with another's, and if I recalled a certain memory, I couldn't seem to place it. It was like living through one long day, repeating the same motions over and over again.

The fact I wasn't sleeping well might have been another reason for this phenomenon. While I never slept wonderfully, the last few nights I had woken often, only to drift back into a shallow slumber. Come morning, I felt even more exhausted than I had the following evening. The act was like taking many naps, which punctuated the experience of living inside a single, never-ending day.

Wednesday evening had snuck up on me quickly. It wasn't until after choir practice ended that I realized I had made plans with Morgan for dinner afterwards. He caught me as we were dismissed, a broad grin on his face. I attempted as best I could to mirror his smile.

"You ready?" asked Morgan.

The truthful answer was no, but who was I to feel bogged down about a date? I hadn't been on one in nearly two years, not really, and I figured I should feel somewhat excited about going on a date with a seemingly nice, attractive guy. It should make me happy, so why wasn't it?

I told myself all of this as I walked with Morgan towards the parking lot, trying my hardest to keep my fabricated smile.

"Oh," I said suddenly. "I forgot – um – I don't have my car."

Morgan took this news in stride; it almost made him stand taller.

"Don't worry, I can give you a ride. This is a date after all."

And so, we found his car, a small SUV (Morgan opened the door for me), and left for dinner. I didn't know where we were headed as Morgan hadn't told me. My stomach roared with hunger, and I figured wherever we ended up, I would be sure to eat my entire share. I was starving.

The restaurant in question was very quaint. It was a storefront painted cotton white and had a large glass window and side door, also constructed of much glass, which showcased the rustic wood floors and brick walls inside. The name of the restaurant, Patrizio's, lead me to the assumption I was about to consume a large portion of pasta.

Morgan was a perfect gentleman. He held all the doors, pulled out my chair, asked me questions about myself, and was friendly to the waiter. If there was a checklist to determine if a man was suitable, he would have hit every mark. He was easy to be around, and I found myself enjoying his company. It was a nice date. So why did I keep having to tell myself this?

I started to wonder if he was like this all the time. He had been nothing but kind to me during choir, and I had no reason to presume otherwise, but the more he spoke, the more I wondered. It was like talking with a perfect human being, too good to be true. All of the questions I asked him he responded to positively, stating he loved school, was very close with all members of his family, and enjoyed sporting events as long as everyone cooperated. He elaborated on each topic with keen eye contact and a pearly white smile. Perfect on paper, Morgan was.

After we had finished a delicious, heavy, cheesy meal, we shared dessert, and Morgan asked if I'd like to take a walk around Cascadia Lake. He paid for dinner without even a second's hesitation and opened both the storefront door and passenger side door of his car for me again. Even with the back of my mind tending to the seed of doubt that had been planted regarding Morgan's authenticity, I told myself I was being senseless. This was what every girl wanted: a date with a well-mannered gentleman. What was I doing second guessing every act of kindness Morgan had demonstrated? It was like I was searching for a reason not to like him.

My heart stuttered. Maybe that was exactly what I was doing. Was I so wrapped up in this world of self-pity and loathing that I unconsciously looked for flaws in people, so as to push happiness away even further?