Morgun
Thirteen lonely days after Laney left, Morgun was in the middle of taking another long, relaxing soak in her tub when her phone dinged on the bathroom vanity. There was no way she was going to check it, and she sank even deeper into the hot water. She hated bubble baths. Cranking on the water just about as hot as she could take it was her idea of relaxing after a rough day. She’d soak for a while, then when the water cooled down, she’d reach for the book on the floor by the tub. She’d ruined a couple books that way, but she had an excellent success ratio for reading versus having the books take a plunge.
What a day it had been. Morgun was used to dealing with difficult clients, but holy freaking cheese and crackers. She’d been booked to do a family shoot at a park. Should have been easy peasy, and done in an hour. Instead, the parents were monsters, trying to turn their kids into little robots, but also insisting that the photos look as natural as possible.
The mom was incessant and her poor kids, ages somewhere around five and seven, got more and more upset as time went on. The dad kept demanding to look at the shots right after she’d taken them, then he’d offer her some critiques. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, annoying as it was, but it grated on her nerves.
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She had to admit those nerves felt constantly raw since the night she’d basically broken up with Laney. Basically, because to break up with someone you kind of had to be dating them for real first. Although, maybe that didn’t have to be official. The fight. The ending. The last time she’d seen Laney. Whatever term applied, Morgun hadn’t felt like herself since that night.
She’d tried to be hopeful, which lasted a few days. Laney didn’t call or text or change her mind. After those first seventy-two hours passed, Morgun had grown quite despondent. She’d declined invites to have dinner or go to a movie with Chelsea. She hadn’t even asked her to come over once, and she realized what a terrible friend she was being.
It was probably Chelsea texting her now.
Morgun sunk lower in the water, until it lapped against her chin. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Her phone went off again, ruining the perfectly zen state of mind she was trying to achieve. Or as close to that as she could get in a perfectly lit bathroom, in a shallow tub, with no mood music, folded up like a pretzel in a tub that was too small.
When a third text came in, Morgun cracked an eye. She shifted in the tub, sitting up and unfolding limbs that didn’t protest, but only because her muscles were so relaxed from the hot water. Morgun stood up and grabbed the towel off the rack. She wrapped the huge bath sheet around herself and dried her feet on the fuzzy red bathmat.
She’d been a bad friend, no doubt about it. Chelsea was probably sending snarky texts and gifs, asking her if she was still rocking it out on the right side of the turf. There was probably a ghost gif—a not so subtle way that Chelsea was reminding her she didn’t appreciate getting ghosted. She’d done it before. She could be quite clever with the gifs when she chose to be.
Morgun wasn’t sure how to tell her about Laney. Okay, so maybe Laney wasn’t the only guilty one when it came to not mentioning what was going on to friends. Morgun tried to text Chelsea, and call her, but then she didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. Chelsea was busy with family and Christmas and New Years and then busy with work after that and they hadn’t been hanging out as much. In fact, she’d barely seen her bestie since before Christmas when she’d started the whole thing by sending that message.
Maybe I’m just as bad. But if Chelsea asked me about Laney, I would have told her. I would have told her everything.
Telling Chelsea was going to straight up suck.
Morgun grabbed her phone and her brows nearly nestled in her hairline permanently when she saw who those texts were really from. Not from Chelsea. From Laney.
Morgun’s first reaction was to attempt to delete them without reading them. She realized that was stupid and spiteful. She’d been hoping against hope that Laney would change her mind and come around. Yes, what she’d done was hurtful and disrespectful, but Morgun wanted to believe that people could grow and genuinely be sorry and want to learn and change. If no one had ever cut her any slack—and she could think of a few times when she’d been incredibly dumb and made some really awful mistakes—she would be down a few friends. She’d probably be estranged from her parents. Her sisters likely wouldn’t talk to her anymore.
She didn’t believe in sticking pins in a person to make them pay for what they’d done, she wasn’t that mean. But she’d also been taught that life is rough and a person can never fully know what’s going on with anyone else, and sometimes people screw up badly. In Morgun’s mind, there were few things that were unforgiveable. Sure, they’d sting for a long time, but unforgiveable? No. Not if someone was willing to work hard and show that they were dedicated to changing like they said they would.
That didn’t mean she let people walk all over or use her. She really didn’t think she was too nice. She’d calmed down after she made Laney leave that night and realized that if Laney was willing to rethink things, apologize, and own her mistakes and her fears, Morgun would be willing to give it another shot. If Laney really was truly willing to change. Change her mind. Change her perception. Change what she wanted.
Morgun also knew that conditions would really have to be right, but it wasn’t impossible.
She hated that even in her despondency, pain over what happened, and grief over not having Laney there to talk to, laugh with, hold, spend the night with, or talk photos, she still held out hope. That grain was nestled so deep within herself, she wasn’t sure she could just pluck it out and throw it away, even if she wanted to.
Morgun realized she was still standing in her bathroom in a towel, her phone held out in front of her like it was a venomous snake about to launch itself straight into her face. She relaxed her arm, focused her eyes out of their blurry state, and decided just to read the texts.
She had to make peace with the idea of Laney not wanting another chance. Of her not being sorry. Of her not coming around. Of that hope not being realized. No matter how much it hurt, she was going to read those messages, and there were several.
Hey, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now. Maybe ever. I need to talk to you. Not over text. Not over the phone. In person. I know you’ll likely tell me to go fuck myself or turn off your phone, but please. I really need to meet with you.
Do you have time tonight? The little coffee shop where we first met? I should say, where I first messed everything up?
I have something I want to give you. Okay, I’ll tell you what it is, and no, I’m not trying to bribe you into meeting with me. I have the finished photos! They’re amazing. Beyond anything I even thought was possible. I can’t wait for you to see them!
If you don’t want to meet with me, I understand. I can drop the photos for you at work. I know you don’t have a desk there, but I could leave the USB with the receptionist in an envelope and you could pick it up anytime tomorrow after I get there at nine.
I’m sorry. This is like a novel. I really do want to talk to you. I want to apologize to you, at the very least, and I’m hoping I can do it in person.
Promise I’m done now. Seriously. If you don’t want to talk, it’s okay. I understand. I really am sorry. Very. Profoundly. Sorry.
And that was it. The texts stopped there. They’d come in relatively quickly, one after the other, but Laney knew that out of habit for work, Morgun was hardly ever far from her phone. If she wasn’t answering anything in the span of fifteen minutes, it was probably because she was pointedly ignoring the messages.