[June 24, 2019]
In three days, I will undergo surgery to remove the melanoma from my skin. While this procedure signifies a step towards being physically free from the cancer, it doesn't necessarily mean an immediate liberation from its impact on my overall health. Following the surgery, there will be a series of appointments to ensure that my well-being remains stable and that there are no lingering concerns.
Tonight we have little bound fire with all of the senior. We have to wear our college t-shirt and I found this really exciting. One of my most significant achievements, and a source of immense pride, is the acceptance letter I received from NYU. The decision to apply to the same city where my brother resides was a natural one. Last year, when he was drafted to the Rangers in New York, he extended an invitation for me to join him after high school. It was an opportunity to not only continue my education but also to be close to family and experience the vibrant energy of the city.
School for me is really important. I'm the kind of person who would willingly choose studying on a Friday night over going out with friends. Good grades have been a constant companion, a testament to my dedication to education—it's perhaps the one thing I've always excelled at.
I put on my purple NYU t-shirt, and as I put on the final touch with a hint of makeup, there's a sense of anticipation in the air.
I hear the familiar sound of my friends' car pulling into my driveway, and with my bag in hand, I say goodbye to my parents.
As we drive, the car echoes with laughter and the resonance of songs that will forever be etched into our memories. These moments are destined to become core memories for all of us.
As the bonfire crackles, casting a warm glow on the faces of friends and classmates, there's an unspoken acknowledgment that this is our last chance to savor the collective spirit before our final goodbyes.
Amelia proudly wears her UPENN shirt, and Norah her Indiana University emblem. The atmosphere is thick with emotion, a blend of excitement and nostalgia for the moments we've shared throughout high school. Many of my peers opt for the University of Michigan shirts, a popular choice among our graduating class.
Amidst the flickering flames, I spot two other individuals sporting the NYU emblem—the same one that proudly adorns my chest. I offer a friendly salute, a subtle acknowledgment of shared futures in the bustling city that awaits us. Funny to think that a simple logo could creates new connections.
The bonfire becomes a poignant farewell, a symbolic bridge between the familiar comforts of high school and the exciting unknowns of what lies ahead.
Everyone is talking to each other and we remember stories from our first year in high school.
As the bonfire flickers, Mia's comment about Jack's absence sparks a brief interruption in the lively chatter.
"Jack is not here," she observes.
"No, he's still out of town since he got drafted," I respond, a touch of pride in my voice. The excitement of his recent achievement lingers, and I can't help but convey the pride I feel for his accomplishments.
"Really? I thought you two were not together anymore," she asks, curiosity evident in her tone.
The question hangs in the air, a moment of uncertainty settling over the conversation. I feel a mixture of surprise and confusion at Mia's comment. Gathering my thoughts, I respond, "No, we're very much together. He's just busy with media and sponsor commitments. The distance is temporary, but we're going strong."
As the bonfire's glow continues to illuminate the gathering, I decide to let the moment pass for now, choosing to revisit the topic with Mia privately when the time is right, curious about the source of her misconception and eager to clarify any misunderstandings about the strength of my relationship with Jack.
Later, I decide to approach Mia and seek clarification. As the bonfire's glow casts dancing shadows, I navigate through the crowd until I find her in a quieter spot.
Mia's expression shifts, and she hesitates before responding. "You haven't seen on Twitter," she begins, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth.
"I don't have Twitter," I admit, my curiosity growing.
"Jack had an interview yesterday, and they asked him if he had a girlfriend. He said that he was too busy to have a girlfriend," she reveals, her lips bitten with a sense of guilt.
For a moment, her words hang in the air, and I feel a pang of surprise and disappointment. The news is unexpected, and I find myself grappling with the realization that Jack made a statement that could be interpreted as distancing himself from our relationship. The warmth of the bonfire seems to fade, replaced by a chill that wasn't there before. I take a deep breath, trying to process the information before responding.
Mia, sensing the gravity of the situation, decides to share more details about the interview to provide a fuller picture.
"Listen, Morgan, about that interview Jack had... It wasn't just about being too busy for a relationship. They asked him specifically if he had a girlfriend, and he said he didn't have one. When pressed further, he mentioned focusing on his career and not having time for a romantic relationship right now," Mia reveals, her expression reflecting a mix of sympathy and concern.
The weight of her words sinks in, and a knot tightens in my stomach. The discrepancy between Jack's public statements and our shared reality becomes glaringly apparent. It's not just a matter of being busy; it's a deliberate distancing from our relationship.
Mia continues to share details, her words weaving a narrative of the interview and the subsequent events. However, the emotional turbulence within me has created a mental fog, and her explanations sound like distant echoes, a cacophony of gibberish that I struggle to comprehend.
"He said he never had a girlfriend?" I repeat, a mix of disbelief and hurt coloring my tone.
Mia nods, her expression mirroring the sympathy she feels for my situation. "That's what he said during the interview."
[June 26 2019]
"Why would he do this to me, Mom?" I sob, seeking solace in her comforting embrace.
In the shelter of my mother's arms, I clutch my teddy bear tightly, its presence offering a semblance of comfort amid the emotional chaos. It's been two days since the revelation that Jack portrayed himself as "single" in an interview, and the wound feels raw, unhealed.
The memories of the bonfire night linger like a haunting fever dream. After Mia's unexpected announcement that I was now "freshly single," I retreated home and cried throughout the night.
My mom plays with my hair, a gesture of comfort and understanding. "I don't understand. It hurts so much," I confess, the weight of the betrayal threatening to overwhelm me.
I thought Jack and I shared promises of a future, a commitment to weathering life's storms together.
"Je sais ma chérie, je sais (I know my dear, I know)," my mom says soothingly in French, her words a balm on the wounds of my heart.
Yet, despite her comforting presence, the pain persists, echoing through my chest in waves of sorrow. It's an ache I've never experienced before, a profound hurt that threatens to consume me. The act of betrayal from someone I thought I knew so well leaves me grappling with an emotional storm that I can't control.
In a desperate attempt to seek answers, I've called Jack, Trevor, and even Cole. Jack and Trevor remained silent, elusive in their unresponsiveness. It's Cole who finally answered.
Jack claimed he left me before going to the draft, an assertion that now crumbles in the face of Cole's contrary account.
The truth is clear and painful – Jack, the person I trusted with my heart, had ended our relationship without my knowledge. The betrayal intensifies, and anger joins the mix of emotions swirling within me.
"I thought that you knew," Cole's words echo in my mind.
The once-promising future with Jack has disintegrated, replaced by the harsh truth that we are now officially over.
Cole manifested his sympathy, and that if I needed anything I could call him at anytime of the day.
With the gentle sweep of her thumbs, she wipes away my tears, each movement a gesture of unwavering love.
"Listen to me, my darling. You're allowed to be tired. You're allowed to scream and to cry, but don't you ever, ever give up," she implores, her words carrying a weight of wisdom earned through a life filled with its own trials. "The fact that pain disappears is a truth, but so will you if you let it in."
Her words resonate, a lifeline in the tempest of emotions that threaten to engulf me. The pain is undeniable, but her message carries the promise of resilience, of finding strength even in the midst of heartache.
[June 30, 2019]
In front of Jack's door, the weight of the past ten days presses heavily on my shoulders. The air is thick with anticipation as I wrestle with the decision to knock. Two minutes pass in a silent battle against my own uncertainty.
Finally, I muster the courage to tap three times on the door.
"Hi Morgan! How is it going?" Ellen greets me as she swings the door open.
"I'm fine. Is Jack here?" I ask, my voice betraying a mix of hope and trepidation.
"Oh no, honey. Jack is already in training camp in New Jersey. He didn't tell you?" Ellen looks at me with a genuine incomprehension, her eyes reflecting the surprise at my lack of knowledge about Jack's whereabouts.
A chill runs down my spine as the realization sets in – Jack never bothered to inform me about his departure. The unanswered text, the silence that followed, and now this revelation paint a stark picture.
The reality of Jack's departure without a proper goodbye strikes like a fresh wound, reopening the pain that has haunted me over the past week. As I confess that Jack and I are no longer together, I witness Ellen's face fall in surprise and sympathy. Without hesitation, she opens her arms, offering a comforting embrace.
With her permission, I enter Jack's room, a space that once felt intimately familiar. In a hurried attempt to retrieve my belongings, I gather pyjamas left behind and pick up forgotten jewelry. Each item carries the weight of memories, a tangible reminder of a love that has now unraveled.
As I prepare to leave, a decision crystallizes within me. I place the dark brown teddy bear with the green bow on his bed – a symbol of an emotional support that I no longer need. It's a quiet act of closure, a way to leave behind a piece of myself while acknowledging the end of a chapter.
Before departing, I share a final hug with Ellen, expressing gratitude for her understanding in a time of heartache. The door closes behind me, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a journey to heal from the scars of a love that once held so much promise.
...
This is a glimpse of what happened between Jack and Morgan in their teenage years.
I truly hope you enjoy the book so far, as there's much more to come, and things are about to get spicyyyyyy.
Much love, xx