for my consideration

chapter twenty one; i'm hopelessly in love with her.

"i'll get on my way," i announce once i stand close enough that i could end up next to her, but at a safe distance to run away if needed.

"on your way?" she questions my words while she looks up.

"home."

"you can't think i'm letting you go home by yourself this time of night."

"it's not even night, it's like ten p.m. and i don't have to walk or even get on public transport. there's uber," i answer, still standing up with her glancing up at me as i'm above her. this makes me feel good.

"i don't trust you to stay in a car even if i put you in it."

"that's too bad, because it's my choice to leave," i reply.

"come on, Cassandra, sit down and let's talk, you don't have to go."

you don't have to is what comes out of her mouth, but i know better, the meaning is don't, or rather you won't.

"are you holding me hostage?" i ask calmly, trying to stay in control of the situation.

"no, what i'm saying is i'd like for us to talk about things, really talk, hear each other, alright?"

"alright," i answer.

"would you like anything else to drink? i don't feel like a particularly gracious host with you only having a glass of water."

"i'm fine, Morgan, i think i should stay away from wine."

"i don't only mean wine, i can get you something else, any drink you want, i'll try to make it," she offers, getting up and putting her phone down on the living room table before standing opposite me.

"water is fine," i assure her. the truth is, i'd love a drink, whatever alcohol she threw in front of me, i'd probably down it.

"are you worried about me ruining your favourite sweet drinks by not being able to follow instructions?"

"no," i answer simply. what i'm worried about is that she would do exactly that, yet the correlation between the acts would be of a different kind. she'd use liquor identical to what they pour in behind any bar i've frequented. she'd put in the exact amount they do. she'd follow the steps to the letter, and it would taste unlike anything i'm used to. i'm terrified that she'd ruin something i'm fond of by showing me how much more i could love it when it's in her hands.

"what is it then? do you need a cigarette?" she asks, the focus of her eyes on me making me feel like she's so interested in what i have to say.

"maybe i do," i decide, "that's why i need to leave."

"you can smoke on the terrace, i'll show you."

i follow her out through the rooms leading outside and we sit down next to each other on chairs that are stood on a large wooden deck.

"want me to light it for you?" she asks.

"what? no," i answer firmly and proceed to focus on independently doing what she just offered to help with.

"do you remember anything from that night?"

"a couple things, i know i called you and you took me home, that's pretty much it, i'm sorry that i was a burden," i lie, in the beginning of my statement, that is. i don't even truly know why, it just happens.

"alright," she says, continuing to watch me as i look away from her.

"can you be honest with me?"

"of course."

"why wouldn't you tell me if there was something going on with your family, something that affects you?"

"everything is fine," she says immediately, not even stopping to think for a moment and i turn my eyes back to her.

"you're not being honest, Morgan," i challenge her, "i know i'm making things about me again, but i just don't get why you'd let me cry about my stupid feelings if you had actual serious and important things to deal with."

"your feelings are important, sweetheart," she says softly, taking my hand and raising it to her mouth to kiss it before she keeps it in her gentle grasp.

"please, i can't do more of this," i plead, but let her hold me, "tell me what's going on, please."

"it's my mum," she finally shares, "but she's alright."

i stay quiet. all i do is kiss Morgan's hand and look back at her, waiting for more information. i don't want to make her talk if she doesn't want to, but i'm here to listen, hopefully she knows that's exactly what my actions are telling her.

"lung cancer," she says and i instantly put out my cigarette as if it was an instinct.

"it's fine, Cassandra, it's your choice to do this and i do hope you'll be one of the lucky ones, the smokers who never have to deal with any of this," she states calmly, still holding my stare and my hand, "my mum is one of the unlucky people who tried to do everything to stay healthy and had to fight this, but that she certainly did."

"i'm so sorry, Morgan, i had no clue."

"you had no clue because i didn't want you to. like i said, it's all fine. she had surgery years ago and kept up with her check-ups and everything seemed to be going well. and then remember that morning you brought me coffee?"

"of course."

"it was that day she told me she was in the hospital and not to worry, which as you know tends to make people worried, but i tried not to let it affect me and i was really overwhelmed."

"i'm so sorry," i repeat when she pauses and she shakes her head slightly.

"just let me explain. they didn't find anything, she was probably exhausted and was told to take some time off, which is why i wasn't working the week after. i took her on a holiday to make sure she truly relaxed."

"i'm glad to hear she's okay and grateful that you're telling me this, truly."

i continue looking at her face in this dim light of the few tiny lamps in the area surrounding us and i wonder if it's possible she could be getting prettier every day. even now with so much worry in her face, i'm certain i've never seen one as flawless as hers is. everything about her is perfect. i don't care if it makes my imperfections show.

for my consideration: i'm hopelessly in love with her.

"and the reason why Dahlia, my ex-girlfriend, was at the bar was that she found out i was, likely since my mum talked to her because she's an oncologist. does this explain things for you?" she says. of course her ex's name has to be pretty, of course she's a doctor, of course Morgan's mum loves her.

i let go of the soft warm hand that makes me feel safe, because suddenly i feel like i don't deserve it, not in the slightest, in fact. i've been so selfish. even now, i still am. i can't only think about myself.

"it does. i'm truly sorry and i didn't mean to pressure you into sharing."

"you didn't do that, i guess i didn't realise how much this influenced the way i acted, but yeah, i'm sorry for how i did and doing things that i shouldn't have. it's not like this excuses any of my missteps, but i really hope that you know i value our friendship."

is whatever we're doing at any point a definition of friendship for her? because it's not for me, not in any way. was she drunk on wine at work when i told her i literally had romantic feelings for her? any of the times she purposefully did not friendly things? like moments ago when she kissed my hand?

"you're such a good friend to me that i can't stop thinking about kissing you," i say when i get up and she does the same and stands opposite me, dangerously close and staring into my eyes while she opens her mouth.

"then finally kiss me, Cassandra."