Just Like Heaven

In my room, everything was still the same; same stereo, same Cure and Smiths posters, same bed spread and glow in the dark stars and hearts on my ceiling. Nothing was out of place, it was still as I had left it 2 years ago on my last visit. Though, I could tell my mom had dusted it and had opened the window during the warm summer months. My father never gotten around to installing the air conditioner as had been promising her for years. Now, it'll never be installed unless she hired someone to do it herself.

"How come Mikey didn't come with you, M?" Max asked as he fiddled around my stereo.

"Oh..." I guess I should come clean, "We broke up."

Max looked back at me, "Really? I thought you guys were gonna get married and stuff?"

I shook my head, "No, Maxie, he was just my boyfriend. These things happen."

"Yeah, but you guys looked good together...like you matched...perfect puzzle pieces."

I laughed, "Where did you get that from?"

"Well," He sat beside me on my bed, "Dad has a picture of you guys at our house, and when I see it, I see how much you guys match. My mom used to say that she and my dad used to be perfect puzzle pieces, but they drifted apart," he scratched his head, "that doesn't make much sense. But, you and Mikey were perfect. How come you broke up?"

"He and I just didn't see eye to eye on some things, and he thought it was for the best that we broke up."

He shrugged, "That sucks. I bet you'll find someone else."

I laughed and hugged him, "Thanks, Max."

"Hey," he started after I let him go, "is that why you were crying?"

I nodded, "Yes, and I'm gonna be honest with you Max, I really, really like Mikey a lot, and I'm a little heartbroken it's over, but please, don't say anything to your dad or Cora."

He nodded, "I won't."

"Pinky promise?" I stuck my pinky out and he laughed.

"Pinky promise, M."


When I went downstairs, the house was quiet. I could hear my mom humming, though, and Brendan was sipping a drink at the table. Max took a seat with him, and I sat down, too.

Growing up, our house, during evening hours, like now, the TV would be up loud with some football or basketball game. My dad would listen to it, cocking his head from the table, with his glasses on, watching it. It was weird sitting at the table, near dark, without the TV blaring.

"How was your flight, Morgan?" My mom set a plate of warm vegetables and meat in front of me.

"It was alright." I told her.

"The weatherman said it was suppose to rain tonight, and storm the following few days. I didn't want you to leave until Saturday, when the weather cleared, I hope you aren't missing any work..." she trailed.

"No, no, it's fine. My friend, Paula, she's real good friends with the partners and she's helping with getting me the week off." I lied, but so what?

"How's your boyfriend? Max told me you were dating a musician." She sat beside me, she took a sip of wine and then swirled it in the glass.

"Uh...he's fine. We actually just broke up." I said aloud, "A couple days ago." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. What happened?"

I looked at my mom, licked my lips, "Uh, we just weren't clicking." I lied even more.

"That sucks." Brendan said, "I thought he was it for you."

"You aren't the only one." Max added with a small laugh.

I looked down at my plate and pushed my food around. I wasn't hungry, but I hadn't eaten in a while, and I wanted a drink. I didn't want another episode, so I forced myself to eat.

"Was he nice?" My mom asked, breaking the small silence.

"Yes, he was." I answered.

After that, there wasn't anymore talk about Mikey. We all finished eating, and Brendan and Max went home. It was only me and mom now, in the house, so quiet, you could hear the winds whistle in the trees. I wondered if my mom was lonely, or if she missed my dad. I found myself uncomfortable with the idea of talking to her; in all my life, face to face, me and my mother only spoke a few words to each other.

It was around 9 when I had crept downstairs to get a drink. As I entered the kitchen, I saw my mom at the counter, eating chocolate cake. I smiled to myself, "Hey."

My mom looked up at me, "Oh, hi."

"I came down for a drink." I said.

"Glasses are up there."

I nodded, heading to the cabinet. I felt a bit bad at how quiet I was being.

"Ma, how are you?" I asked her, "Are you sad?"

She looked back at me, "I feel bad that I don't feel bad enough. I loved your father...once, but the last 15 years have been rough. He and I didn't like each other, but we were too lazy to divorce, you know? So we stuck to each other...we sort of resented each other a lot after you were born."

I turned fully, forgetting the glass, and crossed my arms, "Why?"

"We were gonna divorce when I found out I was pregnant with you. I was too afraid to get an abortion, and we didn't have enough money to file for divorce, and then you were coming..." she shook her head, "it was a mess. I'm sure you felt ignored by us, right?"

I nodded, "I never wanted to bring it up."

She sighed, "Carl said, right before he died, the afternoon, that he was sorry for not taking more interest in you. He said that he didn't really hate you. He never hated you, Morgan."

"It's hard to tell, I mean, you guys did do every and anything to avoid me." my voice rose a little, but I took control of it, "But, it's whatever now, it's in the past, this is the present." I grabbed the open bottle of wine and poured a large amount into the glass I grabbed, "I'm gonna head on to bed."

I started to walk away, but my mom grabbed my arm gently, "We didn't avoid you, Morgan," she began with desperation, "we just...we didn't know how to talk to you. I mean, when you were a baby, it was easy, but when you got older, we didn't..." she could explain her neglect, "Brendan needed us more than you did."

There it was again; I didn't need them. Others needed my parents and Mikey than I did. I wanted to yell at them, but I held back, I don't even have a reason why. I bit my tongue, nodding at my mom, "Okay, I understand."

She gave me a weak smile, buying my lies some more, "Do you forgive me?"

I nodded dumbly, "Yes." I did forgive them, what's the point of holding a grudge? My grudge wouldn't change anything, "I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight."

My mom patted my shoulder before I walked away. I damn near drank the whole glass before I got to my bedroom. I set it on my desk and crawled into my bed, playing with my phone while I waited for sleep.

Before I fell asleep, I thought about a lot. I hate when you can't sleep and your feelings finally bubble to the surface. I thought about all the things my parents had avoided to do in my life; they never came to my school functions, they never encouraged me in my academics, and they were too busy to make it to graduation; Brendan couldn't even come. Those were sad days, my friend's parents all felt bad for me, and pitied me. I hate being pitied, I think that's why I put on such a brave and bold face.

I thought about how much I loved Mikey and how I thought we'd be together forever. I thought about how I used to memorize his face and his body, and imagine if we ever had kids together, thinking we'd have the prettiest babies. I thought about all the times he would just hold my hand, or call me or come over "just because". Mikey could make me laugh, he was the first person to love me for no reason at all, and I was foolish to think it would last. I should've seen it coming, you know, because I wasn't his type; I didn't look like her and I never would try to be her.

Mikey and I only had music in common. I wasn't into comics like he was, and I like my action movies at a minimum. But, still, we could talk about anything, debating what foods were better, and what movie we would rent. I never been so comfortable with a person. I guess it was fate's way of feeling sorry for me and giving me a teeny bit of happiness in my pathetic life.

But, maybe Max was right. Maybe I would find someone else, someone like Mikey, who I could laugh and have fun with. Someone who would call me just because, or hold my hand, or find new and exciting things to do on dates. Maybe he wouldn't have an ex-wife who he secretly still loved, or a mother who wanted him back with said ex. My perfect guy could, possibly, be out there, waiting for me.