Message in a Bottle

Chapter Seven
“Where’s mom?” I asked as I bounced into the kitchen buoyantly.
“Still not home from her date last night with Kyle. Surprise, surprise,” Ben said, poking at his breakfast with his fork.
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “Ben, what do you think of Kyle and mom being together? Seriously.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t even imagine it. Mom has never had a stable relationship since dad. You just watch, mom is going to walk through the door any second probably hung-over and crying because Kyle was nowhere to be found when she woke up and who has to help her back on her feet? Us.”
“What if Kyle is different. What if he’s genuine like dad was?”
“Dad? Genuine? I think not. But if he was different and made mom happy then so be it. Although there is no way I’m calling the guy dad or some shit like that.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see until she comes home.”
“You hungry? I made you a waffle. It’s in the griddle.”
“Thanks.” I took the waffle, put it on a plate and flooded it with whipped cream and syrup.
“That’s disgusting,” he commented.
“So how was your little date yesterday?” he asked, smiling up at me.
My face turned bright red and I couldn’t help but smile with my mouth full of waffles. “It wasn’t a date.”
“Okay, so how was your little… non-date with Boston?”
“His name isn’t Boston. And how do you know where he lives?”
“Mom told me but that isn’t the point. I’m asking you a question.”
“Well, his name is Carter and it went pretty good for the first day we actually met. He’s a cool guy. Really down to earth, smart, intelligent, a gentleman, tall-”
“And cute,” he sighed, mocking me, fluttering his eyelids.
“Shut up, Ben,” I laughed.
“It seems to me that he’s bringing out the old Morgan. You’re actually laughing nowadays and you aren’t so boring to be around.”
“I know, it’s gross.”
“So when’s the next time you’re going to go see him?”
“I’m not sure yet. He’s only staying in Cape Hatteras for a week and I don’t want to monopolize him from his family vacation.”
“How long have you known him again?” he asked.
“Mentally, somewhere around two to three month or so. Physically, a day.”
He chuckled. “You’re smitten.”
“Am not!” I cried out.
He looked at me incredulously.
“Okay, okay. Maybe a little,” I mumbled, my face turning red again. “But enough about my life! How about yours? How’s the whole song writing going?”
“It’s going really good. Since I stay home all day I have a lot of extra time on my hands to write songs and guitar sheet music to go along.”
“How many notebooks have you filled with music already?”
“Lyrically, four. I’m on my fifth right now. And for the guitar, I have three. Want to hear my latest song? It’s still in the works but I want you opinion of the chorus.”
“You never want my opinion,” I said in shock.
“Exactly. So c’mon before I change my mind.”
We walked over to the living room where Ben usually played the guitar and sing when he was alone. He grabbed his acoustic guitar from the stand and flipped through his composition notebook filled with songs. I sat beside him and watched him get ready. He cleared his throat.
Then the front door swung open. “Hi, kids,” my mom chirped as she walked through the door and closed it behind her. To me she looked perfectly fine. Her mascara wasn’t running from the tears, her hair wasn’t a mess, her clothes were on properly, and there was no sign of a headache. “Sorry I’m home so late. Kyle made me breakfast in bed this morning. I insisted I come home to see you two but he wouldn’t let me,” she laughed.
I looked over at Ben and his eyes were wide. It was like we were thinking the same thing.
“Did you already eat?” she asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Ben and I responded, still in shock.
“Maybe I was wrong…,” he whispered.