By the time I reach home, all I want to do is climb into bed and never get out again. Seriously. I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally. Today was a complete and utter nightmare, and the only way to erase the damage done is sleep it off.
After Jack's mother requested Jack go inside the house and explain his actions to her, I decided to take my cue and leave. Jack had tried to convince me to stay and try to bond with his mother, though—after everything else that had conspired—I just wasn't feeling it. I'd entered the house just long enough to say my goodbyes and promise Jack I'd talk to him soon. Thankfully, I hadn't run into Mrs. Crawford on my way out. Jack had assured me that he'd try and talk to his mom and sort things with her out, swearing up and down that he would make it up to me. The promise had been sweet, though we both know it isn't his fault how his mother chooses to behave.
Now I'm ready to call it a day, grateful that the weekend has finally rolled around. As I hassle to unlock the front door, I find myself recalling the moments I'd gotten to spend with Jack this afternoon. I can still feel his lips against mine, the breeze rippling through my hair during the ride in the Ford, the cool water enveloping me in a hug after being pushed into the river. Maybe today hadn't been a complete nightmare; there are parts that I'll always look back on with a smile.
I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice my father's presence until I enter the kitchen. I'm startled to find my dad's back to me as he leans against the counter, oblivious to my sudden entrance. Looking at him, all I can think about is the moment he shared with Elena that I accidentally witnessed. Instantly, my mood darkens and my hands begin to tremble, anger consuming me all over again.
When Dad turns to face me after my presence has been made known by the sound of me setting my keys on the table, expression haggard. Studying him, I notice that his hair is sticking up in odd places as if he's had his hands in it recently. His dark blue eyes are blazing as they meet mine, lips drawn into a thin line as he gives me his best you-are-in-so-much-trouble glare. I can't remember the last time my father was mad at me, though after what I did today I suppose I can't blame him for feeling that way. Which is fair, considering I'm just as furious with him.
What's more surprising than seeing my dad visibly angry is that I don't care how upset with me he is. In fact, I welcome his displeasure. Oddly enough, I almost want to fight with my dad, which is just as crazy as it sounds. Though as the image of Dad's hand brushing hair behind Elena's ear and lingering on her skin flashes in my memory for the millionth time today, the need to scream until my voice is lost rises.
"Morgan." Dad's voice is steely and cold as he addresses me, crossing his arms over his chest with a steady glare fixated on me. "Where the hell have you been?"
For just an instant I can feel my anger fade, fear replacing my annoyance and spreading through my veins like a wildfire. He knows, I realize with a start. He knows I skipped school. Although I assumed my father would find out about my ditching sooner rather than later, the realization that he would obviously confront me about my actions had completely slipped my mind.
Inside my mind, something shifts. Instead of feeling anxious at the thought of facing the consequences of my actions, I find myself thinking: Who cares if he knows? I skipped for a reason; a reason that has a lot to do with his actions.
Out of nowhere, Jack's voice abruptly enters my mind. I recall the story he shared with me just a little while ago about how his family went about moving on from Haleigh's death. My train of thought soon shifts to the advice Jack had given me about my dad and his possible moving on from my mother. Clear as a bell, I can hear Jack saying: Only he can decide when he's ready to start seeing other people. Whether that time is now, years from now, or never. It's his choice, and he's only going to go through with it when he's ready.
Before I have the chance to come to terms with the fact Jack is right in his words and that I should probably listen to his advice, my dad is speaking again. This time, he isn't nearly as calm as he was before.
"What were you thinking, cutting class like that?" Dad's voice echoes in the silence surrounding us like a gun shot, his voice the trigger and his words the bullets. "I can't believe you would do something as irrational as what you did today. Do you know how irresponsible your actions were? Storming out of school, ditching class, ignoring my calls . . . it's all so unlike you. I thought your mother and I raised you better than this. I thought we—"
"Oh, that's rich!" I retort sarcastically, hardly realizing I've even spoken until bitter laughter bubbles in my throat and manages to escape my lips before I'm able to silence it. I'm aware of the gleam of frustration burning in my father's gaze, yet his glare doesn't stop me from continuing with, "We. As in you and mom together, right?"
Dad blinks, clearly taken aback by my question. I watch as his mouth opens and closes repeatedly as he struggles to find an answer to my accusation, appearing lost. "Yes, Morgan," Dad finally manages to say, gripping the back of a kitchen chair as he keeps his ocean-like eyes trained on me. "Your mother and I together. What else would I be referring to?"
"I can't believe you're going to stand here and preach to me about right and wrong when you crossed the same line I did today!" I've never risen my voice at either of my parents in my entire lifetime, until now. I've never felt even half as upset as I do in this moment before either, white-hot anger pulsing through my veins and threatening to take me off the rails.
Pointing an accusing finger at me, Dad bellows, "Do not turn this around on me! We're talking about you and your actions right now, do you hear me?"
"Well, we should be talking about what you did!" I counter, blurting the words before I'm able to think better of saying them. "I saw you, you know! In the front office with Elena this morning? How could you, Dad? Were you even thinking of Mom at all, or were you too busy staring into Elena's eyes to remember the woman you're supposed to love?"
I want to take the words back. I want to go back in time and prevent myself from saying them. I wish I'd never spoken at all. Unfortunately, none of this is possible. I did speak, and now my hurtful words are out in the air. For the first time today, I realize just how immature I've been acting. Throwing Mom in Dad's face the way I just did was unbelievably insensitive of me. I've never acted out in such a way before, and I instantly hate myself for it.
I watch as Dad deflates. His anger seeps from his features, an expression that can only be described as guilt taking its place. The finger Dad had previously been pointing at me slowly falls to his side, his blue eyes no longer a personified stormy ocean, but pools of never-ending sadness.
"Morgan . . ." Dad trails off, voice breaking. Shaking his head, I watch as he purses his lips like he's just swallowed a bitter pill. My words. "Morgan, I—What are you talking about?"
"I saw you," I repeat, though this time my voice is much weaker and less accusatory. "This morning. In the office. You were talking with Elena, and some of her hair fell in her face, and you . . . And you were both . . . I saw—" I'm so flustered I can't even form a coherent sentence. I trip over my words repeatedly, frustrated with myself for my behavior and at the thought of my dad with another woman.
"That's enough," Dad mumbles to stop my rambling, running a hand through his hair as a sigh leaves his lips. Glancing at him, it's almost like I'm seeing him for the first time. I notice details about my father that it seems I've overlooked throughout years, such as the gray hair by his temples, the wrinkles around his eyes, the slight dip in his posture. Studying him, Dad almost looks . . . worn. Fragile, even. As if the slightest of blows could break him. The last time I saw my dad appear so weak, Mom had disappeared and left nothing behind but a piece of paper covered in her signature scrawl.
For a long moment, nothing but silence spreads between us. My father and I are standing merely feet away from each other in the same room, yet it feels as if oceans are separating us. And I can't stand it; I completely hate the feeling of being distanced from him. After losing Mom, Dad and I were all each other had for the longest time. I know that sometimes tragedies end up breaking people and tearing them away from one another, as Jack has mentioned vaguely that the death of his sister ended up separating his family ties. But Dad and I have never been like that; quite the opposite, in fact. And I don't want to know a life where I don't have my father to lean on.
"Morgan, you know I loved your mother." Dad's voice sounds strained and hollow, as if just the simple action of speaking brings him pain. In the time since Mom passed, it's been nearly impossible for the two of us to talk about her. Whenever one tries, the other doesn't want to hear it. It's just too painful. But maybe this is it. Maybe it's time for the two of us to finally go over what happened. Maybe we need to face the pain and stop hiding from it. After all, how else are we supposed to let go and find peace?
"With everything I had, I loved her. The day I married your mother, I made a vow. Only death could do the two of us apart. And you know—you know better than anyone just how hard it was for me to deal with her death, Morgan." As Dad speaks, he falls into the chair he'd previously been holding onto, as if too weak to stand any longer. "You remember how often we moved around. It was too much for me, trying to settle, because the instant something reminded me of your mother I just . . . I couldn't handle it. I couldn't stand seeing her everywhere, knowing I was never going to her again. Losing her destroyed me."
I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back the tears my father's words bring to my eyes. I don't want to hear him go on any further; don't want to relive the worst moments of my life. At the same time, I know I need to hear my father's side of the story written in the aftermath of the loss of my mother. I have to go through this pain in order to grow through it.
"I will always love your mother, kiddo. Always. There is never going to be a woman that can replace her. And I would never try to replace her. Next to you, your mom is always going to be the number one girl in my heart." Dad exhales a shaky breath, and I notice that his deep blue eyes are watering when they flicker up to mine.
After a brief moment, Dad goes on to say, "But that doesn't mean I can continue living in the past. At some point, everyone has to let go of pain, or else it will consume you. Humans don't just stop living, no matter what hardships we're forced to go through. And as long as I'm still breathing, I'm trying to heal. The same way I know you are. You know why? Because I'm human. We break, and we put ourselves back together again. That isn't to say it isn't a long and hard process, as everyone knows it's much harder putting yourself back together once you've managed to fall apart."
I take in my father's words with a heavy heart, understanding that he is right. There is as much wisdom in his statements as there is truth, and I know that the best thing I can possibly do for myself is take his advice.
Clearing his throat, Dad shakes his head before plowing on. "As to what you've been suggesting, I have to admit that it's no secret I'm eventually going to try and move on at some point, Morgan. However, I'm not quite ready to have a new woman enter our lives yet. But moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It just means that one day I'll be able to hear your mother's name and think back on all the good times before the pain hits me. And I know . . . I know Evelyn would want me to someday find love again. She wouldn't want me to spend my last few years alone. But I'm just not ready for the alternative yet. So I'm sorry if what you saw in the office this morning with Elena upset you, but believe me when I say nothing happened. And nothing is happening. If I were even remotely ready to start dating again, the first thing I'd do is consult you about it first. I'd make sure you were ready for me to get back out there. Because, kiddo, your needs are always going to come before mine. Before I can even consider moving on, I'd need to know you were okay with it first. And as long as you aren't ready for that, then neither am I."
I notice my bottom lip trembling, so I press my lips together tightly to keep them steady. Closing my eyes, I can feel the sting of tears beginning to form. The instant I open my eyes once again, those tears I'd been trying so hard to hold in start to fall. After hearing my father's words, I feel so incredibly guilty I can't even begin to describe the emotion. I feel terrible for how I acted and the things I said, and the worst part of all is knowing I can't take any of it back.
But that doesn't mean I can't try to make things right.
"Dad," I croak, shaking my head as I try to speak through my tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Dad rises from his chair and crosses over to where I stand, disregarding the oceans of space that had previously been drifting between us. Wrapping his arms around me, my father pulls me into a warm embrace. I find solace in his arms as Dad presses a gentle kiss to my forehead and tries to comfort me as I sob, as he's done a million times before and will do a million times again. Because he's my dad, the person who cares for me the most in this entire world. I can't believe I'd been so blind to that fact before now.
"I know you are, kiddo," Dad whispers as I cry into his chest, my tears soaking his shirt. "I forgive you." Dad runs a soothing hand over my hair the way Mom used to when I was a girl. I recall the way my mother used to hold me when I was upset, running her hand over my dirty blond hair and reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. I sob harder at the memory, the pain of how much I miss her a physical ache.
I also cry for my father. Only now do I understand how hard it's been on him, trying to fill the roles of both mother and father. I lost my mom, but my father lost so much more. Before Mom passed, he lost his unborn child that resulted in the miscarriage that led to Mom's downfall. Then he lost my mother in a metaphoric sense when she fell into a state of utter depression, a stranger to both of us. He lost her again when she ran away, and then for good once we got news that Mom had passed. My father lost his wife. His life's partner. The woman he loved more than anything.
So I cry for myself. And for the pain I feel in my heart whenever I remember that I'm never going to see my mother again. I cry for my father and all this cruel world has put him through. I even cry for Jack and his family, knowing just how hard it is to lose a loved one. It's a kind of pain I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. A kind of pain powerful enough to break you.
"Next time." Dad pauses as he pulls back slightly, holding me at an arms-length as he brushes away my tears. His gaze locks with mine, staring into my hazel eyes that I know have to be hard for him to look at. They're just like my mother's. Continuing his sentence, Dad murmurs, "If something ever upsets you, come to me first. Don't run away. Because for a minute there, I was so worried that maybe . . . maybe I'd lost you, too."
With my father's revelation, I can feel my heart breaking again. Guilt rises in my chest and seeps through every single one of my pores, consuming my entire being.
"There won't be a next time," I promise, sniffling. It takes a while, but with a few deep breaths and the understanding that things are going to work out the way they're supposed to, I'm able to jokingly question, "Does this mean I'm grounded?"
"Oh." The faintest of chuckles escapes my father's lips, a teasing gleam replacing the sadness that had formerly shone so brightly in his eyes. "You are so grounded."
"Fair enough. I guess I'll go to my room now."
"Don't stay up there too long," Dad calls once I reach the banister of the staircase, grabbing my attention and causing me to turn back around. I notice that my dad looks almost hesitant as he adds, "I think it's time we talk, Morgan. Really talk, I mean."
"I think I'd like that," I agree in a soft tone. My eyes meet my father's, a moment of understanding passing between us. I suppose we both know that tonight is the night we will have to face the pain that's been eating at us for what feels like forever now. It's going to be a long conversation, and there's more than likely going to be some more tears—especially on my end.
But that's okay. Because we're both finally at a place where we can talk about Mom and everything that's happened, after all this time. In the end, the pain is going to be worth it. After all, Jack had been right. There comes a time were everyone has to face their pain, or else it will hold on to you forever.
Trudging up the stairs and heading for my room, I find myself thinking that I've never been happier to have Jack Crawford be right about something.
• • •
"I am so mad at you" is the first thing Lana says after I open the front door Saturday morning to find her standing on the porch, dark blue eyes wide and full of fury. She proceeds to invite herself into my house without another word, so I'm unable to inform my friend that I'm currently grounded.
I try not to think about how much of a mess I am as I close the front door and follow after Lana, realizing that I'm still wearing my pajamas and my face is no doubt red and puffy after all of the crying I did the night before. I'm surprised to find that I don't really mind. I feel more free than I've felt in a long time, which is ironic considering the amount of crying I've been doing.
I risk a glance at my father, who is standing in the kitchen as he spreads cream cheese onto his breakfast bagel. I silently ask my father if it's okay with him that Lana has appeared with nothing, praying her presence won't result in more trouble. Dad merely answers my unasked question with a slight nod, smiling to himself as if he understands what's going on.
"You just disappeared yesterday, Morgan!" Lana cries, ignoring the presence of my father in the next room over. "Out of nowhere, I spot you running out of school looking all upset, so I send Jack after you, 'cause I figure there's nobody better to talk sense into you then your boyfriend. But the next thing I know, you're both gone. I left you a million messages and called you only a thousand times, but you refuse to answer me! And Jack was no help, either! Explain yourself!"
"I'm going to take that as my cue to leave," Dad mumbles from his place in the kitchen, exiting the room with a bagel and glass of orange juice in hand.
In all honesty, I never received any of Lana's messages, as I'd turned my phone off after answering Jack's texts in the car, because I didn't want my father to be able to contact me. I haven't powered it back on yet, either, as I haven't had the chance to get on my phone. Thinking back on it, I see exactly how I messed up, and it only manages to make me feel like a really pathetic friend.
"I'm sorry." I hide my face with my hands, rubbing my temples. "I didn't get your messages because I had my phone turned off, so that's why I wasn't answering you. I didn't mean to worry you. God, I'm so sorry, Lana."
"Well, you better have a really good explanation for all of this," Lana retorts as she wanders into my kitchen and grabs a bagel from the plate my father had set out, returning to the living room and making herself comfy on the couch, glancing up at me expectantly. "Because I went out of my mind worrying about you. Especially considering I couldn't reach Jack, either. I thought something might have happened to the two of you."
At the mention of Jack's name, I wince. I haven't spoken to him since yesterday afternoon considering I have yet to turn my phone back on. I remind myself to call him and make sure I didn't get him into too much trouble with his parents, considering I skipped school and dragged him along with me. Lately, it seems I've been messing things up with everyone.
"I promise I'll tell you everything," I assure Lana as I take a seat across from her on the couch, stealing half of her bagel, which earns me a scowl from my petite blonde friend that makes her seem much more threatening than she is.
And I do. I tell her everything. Up until now, the only person who had known about my past was Jack. But after the talk I had with my father last night, I realized that it's time I start letting people in and trusting my friends with the truth. Keeping my mother's death a secret doesn't change the fact that she's gone, and it's not as if never talking about it is helping me cope. In fact, it's the opposite that makes the truth easier to face. I'd been so focused on trying to protect myself from pain, I'd forgotten that feeling pain is a crucial part of the healing process. So it's with all of this in mind that I take a deep breath before launching into my story, starting from the very beginning.
I talk to Lana about what life had been like for me growing up. It's hard for me to continue when I get to the part about Mom's surprise pregnancy, though I manage to breathe through the pain. I discuss the miscarriage. Mom leaving. The note she left behind. Realizing Mom was never coming home again. I go into detail about all of the moving I've done in the past year. I relate what it's been like to move to Aster Pines, and what it meant to me when I met Lana and Lucas. I don't stop talking until I've informed Lana on the talk I had with my father last night, mentioning that we'd both agreed to let ourselves find closure and let our wounds heal without picking at the scabs anymore.
Throughout the story, both Lana and I cry. It dawns on me what a truly amazing friend Lana is, to be able to sit here and listen as I unpack all of my baggage. And the best part is that once I'm done telling my story, she doesn't up and run the way I've always been terrified of people doing once they've heard about my past. I've always feared that once people see how broken I am, they'll realize that putting up with me isn't worth it. Lana proves this fear to be wrong by leaning forward and wrapping her arms around me, pulling me into a bear hug and wiping my tears, even though they refuse to stop flowing.
"I had no clue," she whispers to me softly, voice catching.
"It's okay." I sniff as I try to pull myself together, trying for a smile that ends up faltering. "I never told you. I just thought it was about time you knew the truth."
"I can't believe you went through all of that." A burst of sad laughter escapes Lana as she stares down at her hands, expression grim. "And to think I'm always complaining to you about how annoying my mom is. I can't believe . . . I'm so stupid. How could I do that? When you—"
"It's okay!" I interject, shaking my head as I look over at Lana. "Don't feel bad about anything. You had no idea, so don't do that to yourself. I just wish I had a mom to complain about when she got on my nerves. You're really lucky, you know."
"To think I thought you were storming out of school because of Lacey." Lana snorts as she shakes her head, mumbling something to herself that I don't quite catch.
Furrowing my eyebrows in confusion, I wonder what Lana is talking about. Scratching the back of my neck, I ask, "What do you mean?"
Lana's blue eyes widen as she murmurs, "Wait. You don't know?"
"Know what?" Although Lacey isn't my favorite person in the world, I don't know what she could have possibly done recently that would make Lana think she upset me to the point where I would rush out of school.
"I don't know how you're going to take this . . ." Lana trails off, pursing her lips as she averts her gaze from mine. "I hate being the one that has to tell you, but . . . well, Lucas and Lacey are dating."