(Dis)connect
New York City, New York. November 20, 2011.
John
"So, you guys have recently announced about an upcoming album entitled ‘Pioneer’ next month. Your third studio album, I believe? Anyway, tell us about it." Jack, the resident DJ of this radio station, asks. "I’m sure the fans are just dying to know."
I look around at the rest of the band around me and they give me the go signal to talk. I shift closer to the mic in front of me. “Well, it’s certainly, uh, different than the previous ones that we’ve done. Very different than the other prior works, so to speak.”
"Different, huh?" Jack nods. "How so?"
"This is sort of like an experiment, I guess? We’re trying to dab on some new material—you know, tread on new waters." I say. "Now, we’re just waiting if we will still get the same reactions from the fans, just as we had before."
"How different is the music now? Are guys going country or heavy metal?" Jack smirks. "Or, you know, take a total 180 and turn pop?"
I laugh a little. “Well, everyone will just have to wait till we release it. I know how much the fans love the thrill and all. But I can only say that it certainly is not pop nor country.”
"Well, we are all very excited for it. Alright, then." Jack adjusts himself on his seat and leans his elbows on the table between us. "Any messages for the fans listening right now?"
Jared jumps in, saying, “We wanted to thank everyone who had stuck around with us, these past few years, and the others who had given us a shot and gave our music a listen. We appreciate the support and we love you all.”
Pat says, last minute, “Yeah—and stay in school and definitely say no to drugs.”
Kennedy gives Pat a look, who just smirks and shrugs.
Jack says on the mic, “So there you have it. The Maine, everybody. By the way, you can catch them tomorrow night, they will have a show here in the city—putting an end to their east coast tour, may I add. One last night out before we lock away in our houses, stuffing our bellies with good ol’ Thanksgiving turkeys. Just visit their site, themaine.net, for the details. And now, here is a single from Mayday Parade, called ‘Oh Well, Oh Well’. Enjoy.” Then Jack presses a button by his mic, turning it off, as the music fills the speakers. He turns to us, pulling down his headphones and lets it rest on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming, guys.” He stands up and holds out a hand to shake. “We really appreciate it.”
We stand up from our stools, too. We all individually shake Jack’s hand.
"No worries,” I say. "We’re happy to be here."
The guys and I leave the building and enter the streets of Manhattan. We start walking, though I’m not sure where we’re going. I unhook my wayfarers from my shirt collar and slip it on. I ask, “You guys wanna catch a late lunch or something?”
"Pizza?" Garrett’s suggests.
Kennedy scoffs. “If I eat more pizza this week, I think I’ll get food poisoning or something.”
"Then what would you suggest?" Garrett asks him.
"I dunno…how ‘bout Chinese?" Kennedy asks.
I groan. “We might as well migrate to China if that’s all we’re ever gonna eat.”
Walking in front of me, Garrett elbows Pat beside him. “Any suggestions, bro?”
"I don’t know, I’m thinking about my mom’s pot roast right now." Pat muses. "Man, I can’t wait to go home."
"This is bullshit." I scoff. "We can’t even decide on what to eat these days."
As the other guys discuss on other options for lunch, beside me, Garrett exclaims suddenly, “Shit!”
"What now, Gar?" I ask.
"I have to go the store—you know those salty biscuits Tim keeps eating? Anyway, I ate a bunch of ‘em last night—it was surprisingly good—and he went apeshit about it and said I have to buy some more before we hit the road again." Garrett rolls his eyes. "I swear—he was a total girl about it, it’s pathetic."
"Aren’t those things, like, part of his diet regime or whatever?"
Garrett scoffs. “What’s the diet for? The guy’s already built like a god.” He eyes me. “Well, where should we buy?”
"We?" I question him.
"You’re coming with me, right?"
I scowl. “Like hell I will.”
"No, you’re going ‘cause you’re paying for those things." Garrett says.
"What? Fuck no. Why in the world would I do that, anyway?"
"Uh, because you owe me for breakfast the other day—when you forgot your wallet. Remember?"
I groan. “Shit.”
Garrett smirks. “I thought so.”
•••
I eye a pack of biscuit as I stand in aisle in the small grocery store before I grab it. I notice Garrett standing beside me, looking through the brands. I hit his shoulder with the back of my hand. “Check this out, Gar, they’re biscuits.”
"No, they’re fucking marshmallows, John." Garrett says sarcastically.
"I meant, their biscuits with corned beef instilled in them. They’re corned beef biscuits." I say in fascination.
Garrett just rolls his eyes. I place the biscuits back on the shelf.
"What flavor should I get? Barbecue or cheese…or sour and cream…" Garrett mumbles, still eyeing the items in front of him.
I just shrug and scan my surroundings. There’re two women beside us—probably mother and daughter, by the looks of it. The mother is holding on to the cart while the daughter has her back on me and is holding a months-old baby. The baby’s wrapped up in blue so I’m taking a wild guess that it’s a boy. His head is resting on the shoulder and is looking at me. I stick my tongue out for him and he smiles a little.
The mother and daughter are near enough that I hear their conversation. I try not to eavesdrop as I turn my attention back to the items on the shelf.
The daughter says, “Mom, honestly, no one cares if you buy the cheaper brand of biscuits. I mean, the guests will probably not eat them anyway.”
And that’s when my stare shoot up to them again. I’d know that voice anywhere, even if I haven’t heard it in months. The girl’s back is still on me. My eyes travel on her frame. Her light brown hair is tied up in a pony tail, some of its strands have fallen out. She’s wearing a navy blue sweater, gray skirt and black shoes. She turns to the side a little, briefly, and I finally see a part of her face.
Holy. Shit.
I just stare at her for such a long time that the only moment I snap back to reality is when Garrett smacks my head. I turn to him, “What the fuck, man?” I snap at him.
Garrett shrugs. “I’ve been calling you a few times. What’s got your mind preoccupied so suddenly, anyway?”
I sigh at him and turn to look at Morgan again but she’s not there anymore. I scan the surroundings but I can’t find her. Ignoring Garrett’s questions, I mumble to him, “I’ll be right back.” And I walk off, peering at other aisles.
I find them by the milk section. This time, I could see her face clearly, but she still hasn’t notice me. She’s talking to her mother amusedly, while still holding the baby. I stand behind an items’ stand and discreetly hide myself. I want to observe her first before I can go and talk to her.
She looks so beautiful and together and I get lost into thinking of how much I’ve missed her. I had hurt her so much in London and it’s easily the stupidest thing that I have ever done in my entire life, right next to kissing her in Philly then later finding out that she had a boyfriend.
I didn’t tell anyone but I wanted to find her so badly. I wanted to take back what I said to her on the last night we were together. I wanted to tell her that I’ve never met anyone quite like her, I don’t want to lose her and I want to try to be with her, regardless of the distance between us.
But I can’t really do that if the only thing I know to contact her is her first name.
I stare at Morgan for a long time. She’s still debating with her mom, and it seems that she’s talking her out of buying eight cartons of milk. I stare at her while she talks and she runs her hand soothingly on the baby’s back.
The baby.
My eyes widen at the possibility. Is the baby really hers? My mind revels on the odds when Garrett comes up behind me, holding a few bags of biscuits.
"What the hell are you doing?" He asks. Too loudly, might I add.
I glare at him. “Dude, shut up.” I whisper angrily.
He gives me a skeptic look. “Okay…but what are you doing?”
I stare at him for a few seconds before saying, “Okay, so that baby,” I point Morgan’s baby briefly, “how old do you think that is?”
Garrett studies the baby before saying, “Probably a month or two, by the looks of it. Why?”
I don’t answer him when I start to do the math in my head.
Still, Garrett pries. “Nah, seriously, why are you asking? Do you know that girl?”
"Garrett, shut up."
His eyes widen. “Crap, did you fuck her once and ditched?”
I glare at him again. “It’s not like that.” Although it sort of is. But the thing is, she wanted me to leave, even if I didn’t.
"And now you’re afraid you knocked her up?" He adds.
"Goddammit, Gary, shut the fuck up!" I say angrily, though I’m still trying to keep my voice low.
"Okay, fine, but are you gonna talk to her?"
"I don’t think so, not anymore—"
Garrett scoffs. “Oh, you’re such a fucking pussy, it’s ridiculous—”
"And who are you to discuss pointers on things like this?" I ask in a patronizing voice. "Because last time I checked, you haven’t even fucked a girl in the longest time—"
He rolls his eyes. “Because I haven’t been home to my girlfriend, moron—”
"This is pathetic, let’s just leave—" I start to walk when Garrett pulls on my arm to keep me in place.
"Hell, no. You have to talk to her—"
"No—"
"You have to at least know or you’re gonna feel crappier than you already do for the rest of your—"
"I said no—"
"Oh, you are such a—"
I roll my eyes and pull my arm away. “I swear, you’re acting like a fucking girl right now—”
Garrett scoffs. “Because you’re—”
"John?"
We both stop talking. Slowly, I turn to face Morgan. Suddenly, right after my debate with Garrett, I’m suddenly lost for words. She’s looking at me in surprise—nothing else. We stare at each other for a long time and we only get distracted when the baby in Morgan’s arms squirms.
"Oh." Morgan giggles and adjusts the baby in her arms. She turns back to me. "Hey." She gives me a smile—which is probably the rarest and most beautiful sight that I have ever seen. "Fancy meeting you here."
I chuckles nervously at her ease joking. “Yeah, uh, hey. How have—how’ve you been?”
Before Morgan could answer, Garrett jumps in.
"Hey, I’m Garrett—his friend." He says, offering her a wave. I send him a glare, which he fully ignores, as he’s smiling at Morgan now.
"I’m Morgan."
"Nice to meet you. And your baby’s so cute. You really do make a fine mother." Garrett says charmingly, while I bite back a curse that almost slips past my lips.
To my surprise, Morgan laughs. “And that’s rich, really—but no. I’m not a mother. I’m just babysitting for my cousin.”
"So you don’t have a baby?" I suddenly blurt out.
She gives me a strained look. “No, I don’t. Never been pregnant, as a matter of fact.”
I just nod, regardless of the wave of relief rushing through me. So I just ask, glad that I could start on a less awkward topic, “So what are you doing here in New York?”
"I live here now." She says. "Are you guys touring right now?"
Garrett nods. “Yeah, we are. We’re playing a show tomorrow night. Maybe you could come? We could fix you up a ticket or something…”
Morgan gives him a small smile. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”
"Oh, well, that’s alright—if you don’t come tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of other shows here." Garrett shrugs.
"Morgan, sweetie?" Her mom from behind her asks for her.
Morgan turns to face her. “Yeah?”
"I’ve decided to just buy four cartons…" Her mom’s eyes land on Garrett and me. "Oh, are these your friends?"
"Uh, yeah, I know them. These are John and Garrett." Morgan says, gesturing to us. Then she gestures to her mom. "This is my mom."
"Very nice to meet you, Mrs.…um…" Garrett falters.
"Hyland." Morgan’s mom fills in.
Garrett nods. “Mrs. Hyland.”
Mrs. Hyland gives us a smile. “Well, it’s also very nice to meet you both. But if you two would excuse me and my daughter, we have a few errands to go to.” She turns to Morgan. “Shall we, dear?”
"Uh, yeah, Mom, absolutely." Morgan nods, turning back to us, "So I’ll see you both…" She stops and I nod, knowing fully well that we’re not exactly the ‘see you around’ kind of people. She gives me a small smile, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. "Bye."
Then once again, she’s walking away from me. I shake my head as I watch her go, my shoulders slacking in disappointment.
Garrett pats my back. “You okay, man?”
I don’t say a thing, since I don’t even know the answer myself. I watch her walk farther away from me, following her mom as they pass by the aisles of grocery items. Without thinking, I suddenly run for her, leaving Garrett for a moment. But I’m glad that he doesn’t question it.
"Morgan!"
Morgan turns around to face me. She adjusts the baby in her arms, a surprise look on her face. “John. What’s—”
"Can I see you later?" I ask. "Please?"
She sighs. “John…”
"Ooh, later? I’m afraid that won’t work, dear." Mrs. Hyland says, appearing beside Morgan.
"Mom." Morgan scolds at her. Then she turns back to me. "How about tomorrow instead?"
I purse my lips. “I can’t. I have a lot of…work stuff tomorrow.”
She tries, “Oh, well, maybe later—”
"Later?" Mrs. Hyland says incredulously.
Morgan glares at her mother. “Mom, please stay out of this.”
Her mom gives her a look. “Morgan, you made a commitment to me today. We have a lot of preparing to do for the holiday. I know you more than understand that I need your help—today especially.”
"Fine, fine." Morgan snaps. She sighs and turns to me. "I’m sorry, John—"
I nod, trying me best not to look as disappointed as I feel right now. “Nah, it’s fine. I obviously caught you on a very busy day—”
"You could come to my house." She says suddenly.
My eyes widen. I start to say, “Oh, that’s not necessary—”
"That might actually work." Her mom says. "I just want my daughter to stay at home this afternoon and bake me some pies and she wants to hang out with you."
Morgan says, “See, my mom says so.”
I take a deep breath and meet Morgan’s hopeful stare. “Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll go.”
Her face break into an ecstatic smile, making my heart beat much faster now. “Great!” She says happily.
•••
“Yo, you getting out or what?” The taxi driver snaps at me, pulling me out of my jumble of thoughts. I didn’t realize I have been staring out the window the whole drive. I hand the driver a bill and get out of the vehicle. I’m standing in front of an apartment building on the Upper East Side.
This is a mistake.
As I stand in front of the building, I take in the brick walls, uniformed doorman, and the grand lobby that I could see through the even grander doors…
Holy shit, I didn’t know Morgan lives in a world like this. It’s like a scene torn out of fucking Gossip Girl or something.
I suddenly hesitate. “Fuck.” I mutter, taking out my pack of cigarettes and slipping a stick in my mouth. After a few hits, the doorman finally takes notice of me.
"Can I help you, sir?" He asks, eagle-eyeing me.
"I, uh…" I start. I clear my voice. "I’m here for Morgan…Hyland."
The doorman’s face suddenly breaks into a smile. “Oh! You’re John O’Callaghan, eh? Ms. Morgan’s expecting you.” He opens the door for me to come in, though he eyes my cigarette first. “You’ll have to put that out first.”
I nod. As I’m about to drop it on the ground, the doorman stops me.
"Sir, we have a special place for cigarette butts. It’s called the ash tray, if you’re not familiar with them." He gestures for the trash can with the ash stray on top of it.
Trying not to snap at his—and this whole place’s—pretentiousness, I let out a small laugh and drop my cigarette on the ash tray before coming into the building.
As I get out of the elevator, I enter directly to a living room—a living room-full of people. I hesitate to get out of the elevator, but when the doors move to close, I decide to get out at the last second. Some of the people there don’t notice me, as they are pretty busy with their wines and chatter. I am really, really starting to regret going here.
Just then, Mrs. Hyland, wearing an apron and is holding a tray of cookies, walks over to me, a huge smile much like Morgan’s is on her face. “Hello there! John, is it?”
I nod. “Yes, it is.”
"Welcome. Have a cookie." She holds up the plate to me.
I start to shake my head. “Oh, no, that’s okay—”
"Nonsense! No one turns down an exclusive Hyland cookie!" She says.
"Alright, then." I take a cookie.
"Good, good. So, darling, Morgan is in the kitchen, if you could just go there…she’s waiting for you." She points in the hallway to the right. "Through there." Then she goes to the living room area and entertains her guests.
I walk down the hall and into the kitchen. I see Morgan standing by the island counter, mixing in a bowl with a spatula. She still hasn’t notice me, as she’s chatting with a plump woman in a maid’s uniform. I knock my knuckles on the wooden doorway and the both of them look up at me. Morgan smiles.
"Hi." She greets me, letting go of the spatula and wipes her hands on the apron around her waist. The maid smirks and nudges Morgan on the side. Morgan turns to her and rolls her eyes. "Helen, this is John, the friend I was expecting." She pats the woman on the back affectionately. "And John, this is Helen."
I wave a hand at Helen.
"It’s nice to meet you." Helen smiles sweetly at me. She turns briefly to Morgan. "I’ll be outside and find a way to help your mother. God forbid, she loses her mind the second she runs out of cookies to give out to your cousins." She takes a plate of fresh cookies and leaves the room.
Morgan grins. “You didn’t like it?” She eyes the cookie in my hand. “I made them, you know.”
"Oh, um, I just haven’t tried it yet." I say and take a bite. Damn, it is a good cookie. "This is really good." I sit on one of the bar stools by the island and lean my elbows on the counter, across from her.
"Thanks." She says, then turns back to mixing in the bowl. She flashes me an apologetic look. "I’m sorry about the, uh, chaos outside. It’s just—they’re family, so it’s impossible to get rid of them."
"Oh, it’s fine. If there’s one thing I really get, it’s the chaos of having family over at our place." I say.
"Right? And to think that they’ll be here for the whole week." She laughs, adding a few more ingredients to the bowl. Her movements are fluid and she barely looks at the items she adds on the bowl, as if she had all of them memorized. "I mean, I love them all, but it’s too much sometimes."
I smile at her. “You, uh, you really know what you’re doing there, huh?” I nod at the bowl in front of her.
"Oh, yeah. Been baking since I hit puberty." She laughs. "One of the two things that I can actually do. Helen—she practically raised me—she’s the one who taught me in the kitchen."
"Really? I thought your mom would do that."
Morgan scoffs. “Please. My mom loves to cook, but it hasn’t come across her mind that she’s not exactly a master in the kitchen.”
"Oh, and you are?" I raise an eyebrow at her.
"Heck yeah, I am." She says confidently. "I have the evidence right here." She gestures the batch of cookies on an oven tray.
I laugh and grab a cookie, munching on it.
After a moment, she asks, “So what are your Thanksgiving plans?”
I swallow a mound of cookie before speaking. “After our show tomorrow, we’ll head back to Arizona—just in time for Thanksgiving.” I say, before asking, “So what have you been up to lately? “
"Well, I’ve been living in Boston, actually." She says. "For a while. Now, I’m back here."
"Boston, huh?"
"Yeah. I had an internship there, at a museum. Since it’s over now, I’m back home."
"And you’re gonna take over your grandfather’s gallery, right?" I ask, remembering how she’s excited about it. Her shrugging somberly is not the reaction I expected.
"I’ve been thinking about it." She says in a low voice, pouring the contents of the mixing bowl in their individual pie trays now.
"And?"
"And I’m not so sure about it anymore." She says simply.
Something in Morgan’s voice tells me that this subject is closed. Deciding not to pry, I change the subject. “I didn’t realize you live in a world like this.”
"What?" She asks amusedly. "Can you explain that?"
I let out a laugh. “This world.” I say. “The-the doorman, the penthouse, the maid, the mom who is all about presentation in society or whatever—”
Morgan laughs out loud now. “Presentation in society?” She repeats. “You’re shitting me, right?”
I look down in embarrassment, laughing a little.
"Look," she sets down the now-empty bowl and leans her elbows down on the counter. She lowers her voice. "My mom’s a total nut job half the time—you had the special preview of my relationship with her in the grocery earlier today. I love her to death, which is why I put up with her craziness but let me tell you, that is not an acceptable presentation in society."
"I’m sorry." I sigh, a smile still glued in my face. "I can’t—I can’t think straight right now, you know?"
Morgan sends me a confused look. “Why is that?” She asks as she puts her pie trays in the oven.
It takes a moment for me to answer. I drum my fingers on the counter nervously, as Morgan leans the heals of her palms on the edge of the counter now, waiting for me to answer.
I look up at her. “Okay, so here’s the deal.” I take a deep breath and stare into Morgan’s startling green eyes, those eyes that I have been thinking about for months. “I missed you.” I watch her expression change. “I’ve been a real idiot in London. You have no idea how much I regretted saying all those things—because frankly, right now, I don’t care about the odds or w-whatever.” I walk around the counter to be closer to her. She turns to face me. “I’ve been fooling myself—there’s no one else like you. Whenever I try to be with someone else, I only just end up wishing it was you—and that is driving me insane. What’s even worse, I couldn’t find you. All I know is that you’re Morgan—that’s it. No other information.” I take her hand and lace my fingers with hers. She’s now looking down on our joint hands. “And when I saw you in the store—it’s like, I’m given another chance or something. It’s amazing how we keep seeing each other, even if we tried not to.” I bring my hand to her face, cupping her cheek. “I want to try now, with you. I don’t give a damn about the distance or how different our lives are—or how different the both of us are. I can’t stand walking away from you anymore.” I sigh, relieved that I’ve let all those out now, glad that they’re out in the open. “So the question is, do you wanna do the same thing, for me?”
What I totally didn’t expect is for Morgan to pull away from me. She walks a few yards away from me, her back to me. She crosses her arms and takes a deep breath, facing the window above the sink now. “I don’t know, John.” She mumbles.
I don’t say a thing, just stand there and stare at her. She turns around to face me again, but maintains her distance.
"Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you, too. Regardless of not knowing you that much, you still mean a lot to me. That’s why I wanted to see you today, too." She pauses, purses her lips, before continuing. "We may keep running into each other in different places in the world and we may claim that we can’t find anyone else that is what we are with each other but do you really think those are enough?"
My jaw clenches. I’m already dreading what she’s gonna say.
"You were right, in London. I don’t know what was up with me—maybe it was nostalgia and loneliness—but you were the only one thinking rationally in the room that night." She says. "I have thought about this a lot, after that night. And I…with you and I, to make it work, we—or at least one of us—have to make drastic changes to be with the other. And I just got out of college and I’m just starting my life. I’m still figuring it out. I’m not like you—who already has a job and is set for the next five years or so. I still have to figure myself out and that can’t be based on someone else—those changes, they have to be about me and not…you—or anyone else, for that matter."
I look down on the floor, still not saying a thing.
Morgan walks over to me. She hesitates a little but brings her hand on my chest, moving it up slowly and then around my neck. She says softly, “Maybe you and I will work someday—just not now.”
I look down, biting my lip. I say quietly, “What if we don’t get a chance anymore?”
This sets Morgan back. She pulls her hand away from me and takes a step back. “I don’t…” She takes a deep breath. “Then we’ll just have to accept it.” She says.
I stare at her, a hard expression in my face, not saying a thing. I know what she said makes perfect sense, just as I had done in London. And now, I’m on the other end of the line—the rejected end. Nodding, I suddenly can’t look at her anymore. So I leave. She calls for me, but I don’t answer.
As I walk to the elevator in the living room, Mrs. Hyland shows up in front of me. Great, just exactly what I need right now.
She smiles at me. “Already leaving? But you just got here!”
"I’m sorry, I just remembered that I have to..um, I have to get some work stuff—get to some work stuff, I mean." I say and start to move past her but she stops me. Honestly, what is with the Hylands? I need to fucking leave.
"So did Morgan talk to you?" Mrs. Hyland asks.
"Oh, you bet." I say, trying not to sound bitter about it.
"Oh, good. I’ve been trying to talk to her ever since she got back from Boston, but she just won’t open up. A closed box, Morgan always is. I’m glad you’ve been there for her to talk to. Because she was pretty close to him, and now that he’s gone, she doesn’t show it, but it has taken a toll on her—more than anyone else in this family."
I furrow my eyebrows. I ask suddenly, “What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Hyland looks surprised. “Morgan’s grandfather—he passed away a few months ago. Days after Morgan’s graduation, in fact. He was so proud of her, when she got the diploma…I thought she talked to you about it?”
I shake my head. “No, she didn’t. I didn’t know.” I stare at the direction to the kitchen, debating on whether or not I should go back to her. After a moment passes, I decide not to. She doesn’t want me to be with her right now, and I’ll give her that.
I turn back to Mrs. Hyland. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really do have to go.”
"Alright, then. It’s very nice to meet you, John." She says.
I nod then walk to the elevator.
"So, you guys have recently announced about an upcoming album entitled ‘Pioneer’ next month. Your third studio album, I believe? Anyway, tell us about it." Jack, the resident DJ of this radio station, asks. "I’m sure the fans are just dying to know."
I look around at the rest of the band around me and they give me the go signal to talk. I shift closer to the mic in front of me. “Well, it’s certainly, uh, different than the previous ones that we’ve done. Very different than the other prior works, so to speak.”
"Different, huh?" Jack nods. "How so?"
"This is sort of like an experiment, I guess? We’re trying to dab on some new material—you know, tread on new waters." I say. "Now, we’re just waiting if we will still get the same reactions from the fans, just as we had before."
"How different is the music now? Are guys going country or heavy metal?" Jack smirks. "Or, you know, take a total 180 and turn pop?"
I laugh a little. “Well, everyone will just have to wait till we release it. I know how much the fans love the thrill and all. But I can only say that it certainly is not pop nor country.”
"Well, we are all very excited for it. Alright, then." Jack adjusts himself on his seat and leans his elbows on the table between us. "Any messages for the fans listening right now?"
Jared jumps in, saying, “We wanted to thank everyone who had stuck around with us, these past few years, and the others who had given us a shot and gave our music a listen. We appreciate the support and we love you all.”
Pat says, last minute, “Yeah—and stay in school and definitely say no to drugs.”
Kennedy gives Pat a look, who just smirks and shrugs.
Jack says on the mic, “So there you have it. The Maine, everybody. By the way, you can catch them tomorrow night, they will have a show here in the city—putting an end to their east coast tour, may I add. One last night out before we lock away in our houses, stuffing our bellies with good ol’ Thanksgiving turkeys. Just visit their site, themaine.net, for the details. And now, here is a single from Mayday Parade, called ‘Oh Well, Oh Well’. Enjoy.” Then Jack presses a button by his mic, turning it off, as the music fills the speakers. He turns to us, pulling down his headphones and lets it rest on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming, guys.” He stands up and holds out a hand to shake. “We really appreciate it.”
We stand up from our stools, too. We all individually shake Jack’s hand.
"No worries,” I say. "We’re happy to be here."
The guys and I leave the building and enter the streets of Manhattan. We start walking, though I’m not sure where we’re going. I unhook my wayfarers from my shirt collar and slip it on. I ask, “You guys wanna catch a late lunch or something?”
"Pizza?" Garrett’s suggests.
Kennedy scoffs. “If I eat more pizza this week, I think I’ll get food poisoning or something.”
"Then what would you suggest?" Garrett asks him.
"I dunno…how ‘bout Chinese?" Kennedy asks.
I groan. “We might as well migrate to China if that’s all we’re ever gonna eat.”
Walking in front of me, Garrett elbows Pat beside him. “Any suggestions, bro?”
"I don’t know, I’m thinking about my mom’s pot roast right now." Pat muses. "Man, I can’t wait to go home."
"This is bullshit." I scoff. "We can’t even decide on what to eat these days."
As the other guys discuss on other options for lunch, beside me, Garrett exclaims suddenly, “Shit!”
"What now, Gar?" I ask.
"I have to go the store—you know those salty biscuits Tim keeps eating? Anyway, I ate a bunch of ‘em last night—it was surprisingly good—and he went apeshit about it and said I have to buy some more before we hit the road again." Garrett rolls his eyes. "I swear—he was a total girl about it, it’s pathetic."
"Aren’t those things, like, part of his diet regime or whatever?"
Garrett scoffs. “What’s the diet for? The guy’s already built like a god.” He eyes me. “Well, where should we buy?”
"We?" I question him.
"You’re coming with me, right?"
I scowl. “Like hell I will.”
"No, you’re going ‘cause you’re paying for those things." Garrett says.
"What? Fuck no. Why in the world would I do that, anyway?"
"Uh, because you owe me for breakfast the other day—when you forgot your wallet. Remember?"
I groan. “Shit.”
Garrett smirks. “I thought so.”
•••
I eye a pack of biscuit as I stand in aisle in the small grocery store before I grab it. I notice Garrett standing beside me, looking through the brands. I hit his shoulder with the back of my hand. “Check this out, Gar, they’re biscuits.”
"No, they’re fucking marshmallows, John." Garrett says sarcastically.
"I meant, their biscuits with corned beef instilled in them. They’re corned beef biscuits." I say in fascination.
Garrett just rolls his eyes. I place the biscuits back on the shelf.
"What flavor should I get? Barbecue or cheese…or sour and cream…" Garrett mumbles, still eyeing the items in front of him.
I just shrug and scan my surroundings. There’re two women beside us—probably mother and daughter, by the looks of it. The mother is holding on to the cart while the daughter has her back on me and is holding a months-old baby. The baby’s wrapped up in blue so I’m taking a wild guess that it’s a boy. His head is resting on the shoulder and is looking at me. I stick my tongue out for him and he smiles a little.
The mother and daughter are near enough that I hear their conversation. I try not to eavesdrop as I turn my attention back to the items on the shelf.
The daughter says, “Mom, honestly, no one cares if you buy the cheaper brand of biscuits. I mean, the guests will probably not eat them anyway.”
And that’s when my stare shoot up to them again. I’d know that voice anywhere, even if I haven’t heard it in months. The girl’s back is still on me. My eyes travel on her frame. Her light brown hair is tied up in a pony tail, some of its strands have fallen out. She’s wearing a navy blue sweater, gray skirt and black shoes. She turns to the side a little, briefly, and I finally see a part of her face.
Holy. Shit.
I just stare at her for such a long time that the only moment I snap back to reality is when Garrett smacks my head. I turn to him, “What the fuck, man?” I snap at him.
Garrett shrugs. “I’ve been calling you a few times. What’s got your mind preoccupied so suddenly, anyway?”
I sigh at him and turn to look at Morgan again but she’s not there anymore. I scan the surroundings but I can’t find her. Ignoring Garrett’s questions, I mumble to him, “I’ll be right back.” And I walk off, peering at other aisles.
I find them by the milk section. This time, I could see her face clearly, but she still hasn’t notice me. She’s talking to her mother amusedly, while still holding the baby. I stand behind an items’ stand and discreetly hide myself. I want to observe her first before I can go and talk to her.
She looks so beautiful and together and I get lost into thinking of how much I’ve missed her. I had hurt her so much in London and it’s easily the stupidest thing that I have ever done in my entire life, right next to kissing her in Philly then later finding out that she had a boyfriend.
I didn’t tell anyone but I wanted to find her so badly. I wanted to take back what I said to her on the last night we were together. I wanted to tell her that I’ve never met anyone quite like her, I don’t want to lose her and I want to try to be with her, regardless of the distance between us.
But I can’t really do that if the only thing I know to contact her is her first name.
I stare at Morgan for a long time. She’s still debating with her mom, and it seems that she’s talking her out of buying eight cartons of milk. I stare at her while she talks and she runs her hand soothingly on the baby’s back.
The baby.
My eyes widen at the possibility. Is the baby really hers? My mind revels on the odds when Garrett comes up behind me, holding a few bags of biscuits.
"What the hell are you doing?" He asks. Too loudly, might I add.
I glare at him. “Dude, shut up.” I whisper angrily.
He gives me a skeptic look. “Okay…but what are you doing?”
I stare at him for a few seconds before saying, “Okay, so that baby,” I point Morgan’s baby briefly, “how old do you think that is?”
Garrett studies the baby before saying, “Probably a month or two, by the looks of it. Why?”
I don’t answer him when I start to do the math in my head.
Still, Garrett pries. “Nah, seriously, why are you asking? Do you know that girl?”
"Garrett, shut up."
His eyes widen. “Crap, did you fuck her once and ditched?”
I glare at him again. “It’s not like that.” Although it sort of is. But the thing is, she wanted me to leave, even if I didn’t.
"And now you’re afraid you knocked her up?" He adds.
"Goddammit, Gary, shut the fuck up!" I say angrily, though I’m still trying to keep my voice low.
"Okay, fine, but are you gonna talk to her?"
"I don’t think so, not anymore—"
Garrett scoffs. “Oh, you’re such a fucking pussy, it’s ridiculous—”
"And who are you to discuss pointers on things like this?" I ask in a patronizing voice. "Because last time I checked, you haven’t even fucked a girl in the longest time—"
He rolls his eyes. “Because I haven’t been home to my girlfriend, moron—”
"This is pathetic, let’s just leave—" I start to walk when Garrett pulls on my arm to keep me in place.
"Hell, no. You have to talk to her—"
"No—"
"You have to at least know or you’re gonna feel crappier than you already do for the rest of your—"
"I said no—"
"Oh, you are such a—"
I roll my eyes and pull my arm away. “I swear, you’re acting like a fucking girl right now—”
Garrett scoffs. “Because you’re—”
"John?"
We both stop talking. Slowly, I turn to face Morgan. Suddenly, right after my debate with Garrett, I’m suddenly lost for words. She’s looking at me in surprise—nothing else. We stare at each other for a long time and we only get distracted when the baby in Morgan’s arms squirms.
"Oh." Morgan giggles and adjusts the baby in her arms. She turns back to me. "Hey." She gives me a smile—which is probably the rarest and most beautiful sight that I have ever seen. "Fancy meeting you here."
I chuckles nervously at her ease joking. “Yeah, uh, hey. How have—how’ve you been?”
Before Morgan could answer, Garrett jumps in.
"Hey, I’m Garrett—his friend." He says, offering her a wave. I send him a glare, which he fully ignores, as he’s smiling at Morgan now.
"I’m Morgan."
"Nice to meet you. And your baby’s so cute. You really do make a fine mother." Garrett says charmingly, while I bite back a curse that almost slips past my lips.
To my surprise, Morgan laughs. “And that’s rich, really—but no. I’m not a mother. I’m just babysitting for my cousin.”
"So you don’t have a baby?" I suddenly blurt out.
She gives me a strained look. “No, I don’t. Never been pregnant, as a matter of fact.”
I just nod, regardless of the wave of relief rushing through me. So I just ask, glad that I could start on a less awkward topic, “So what are you doing here in New York?”
"I live here now." She says. "Are you guys touring right now?"
Garrett nods. “Yeah, we are. We’re playing a show tomorrow night. Maybe you could come? We could fix you up a ticket or something…”
Morgan gives him a small smile. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”
"Oh, well, that’s alright—if you don’t come tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of other shows here." Garrett shrugs.
"Morgan, sweetie?" Her mom from behind her asks for her.
Morgan turns to face her. “Yeah?”
"I’ve decided to just buy four cartons…" Her mom’s eyes land on Garrett and me. "Oh, are these your friends?"
"Uh, yeah, I know them. These are John and Garrett." Morgan says, gesturing to us. Then she gestures to her mom. "This is my mom."
"Very nice to meet you, Mrs.…um…" Garrett falters.
"Hyland." Morgan’s mom fills in.
Garrett nods. “Mrs. Hyland.”
Mrs. Hyland gives us a smile. “Well, it’s also very nice to meet you both. But if you two would excuse me and my daughter, we have a few errands to go to.” She turns to Morgan. “Shall we, dear?”
"Uh, yeah, Mom, absolutely." Morgan nods, turning back to us, "So I’ll see you both…" She stops and I nod, knowing fully well that we’re not exactly the ‘see you around’ kind of people. She gives me a small smile, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. "Bye."
Then once again, she’s walking away from me. I shake my head as I watch her go, my shoulders slacking in disappointment.
Garrett pats my back. “You okay, man?”
I don’t say a thing, since I don’t even know the answer myself. I watch her walk farther away from me, following her mom as they pass by the aisles of grocery items. Without thinking, I suddenly run for her, leaving Garrett for a moment. But I’m glad that he doesn’t question it.
"Morgan!"
Morgan turns around to face me. She adjusts the baby in her arms, a surprise look on her face. “John. What’s—”
"Can I see you later?" I ask. "Please?"
She sighs. “John…”
"Ooh, later? I’m afraid that won’t work, dear." Mrs. Hyland says, appearing beside Morgan.
"Mom." Morgan scolds at her. Then she turns back to me. "How about tomorrow instead?"
I purse my lips. “I can’t. I have a lot of…work stuff tomorrow.”
She tries, “Oh, well, maybe later—”
"Later?" Mrs. Hyland says incredulously.
Morgan glares at her mother. “Mom, please stay out of this.”
Her mom gives her a look. “Morgan, you made a commitment to me today. We have a lot of preparing to do for the holiday. I know you more than understand that I need your help—today especially.”
"Fine, fine." Morgan snaps. She sighs and turns to me. "I’m sorry, John—"
I nod, trying me best not to look as disappointed as I feel right now. “Nah, it’s fine. I obviously caught you on a very busy day—”
"You could come to my house." She says suddenly.
My eyes widen. I start to say, “Oh, that’s not necessary—”
"That might actually work." Her mom says. "I just want my daughter to stay at home this afternoon and bake me some pies and she wants to hang out with you."
Morgan says, “See, my mom says so.”
I take a deep breath and meet Morgan’s hopeful stare. “Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll go.”
Her face break into an ecstatic smile, making my heart beat much faster now. “Great!” She says happily.
•••
“Yo, you getting out or what?” The taxi driver snaps at me, pulling me out of my jumble of thoughts. I didn’t realize I have been staring out the window the whole drive. I hand the driver a bill and get out of the vehicle. I’m standing in front of an apartment building on the Upper East Side.
This is a mistake.
As I stand in front of the building, I take in the brick walls, uniformed doorman, and the grand lobby that I could see through the even grander doors…
Holy shit, I didn’t know Morgan lives in a world like this. It’s like a scene torn out of fucking Gossip Girl or something.
I suddenly hesitate. “Fuck.” I mutter, taking out my pack of cigarettes and slipping a stick in my mouth. After a few hits, the doorman finally takes notice of me.
"Can I help you, sir?" He asks, eagle-eyeing me.
"I, uh…" I start. I clear my voice. "I’m here for Morgan…Hyland."
The doorman’s face suddenly breaks into a smile. “Oh! You’re John O’Callaghan, eh? Ms. Morgan’s expecting you.” He opens the door for me to come in, though he eyes my cigarette first. “You’ll have to put that out first.”
I nod. As I’m about to drop it on the ground, the doorman stops me.
"Sir, we have a special place for cigarette butts. It’s called the ash tray, if you’re not familiar with them." He gestures for the trash can with the ash stray on top of it.
Trying not to snap at his—and this whole place’s—pretentiousness, I let out a small laugh and drop my cigarette on the ash tray before coming into the building.
As I get out of the elevator, I enter directly to a living room—a living room-full of people. I hesitate to get out of the elevator, but when the doors move to close, I decide to get out at the last second. Some of the people there don’t notice me, as they are pretty busy with their wines and chatter. I am really, really starting to regret going here.
Just then, Mrs. Hyland, wearing an apron and is holding a tray of cookies, walks over to me, a huge smile much like Morgan’s is on her face. “Hello there! John, is it?”
I nod. “Yes, it is.”
"Welcome. Have a cookie." She holds up the plate to me.
I start to shake my head. “Oh, no, that’s okay—”
"Nonsense! No one turns down an exclusive Hyland cookie!" She says.
"Alright, then." I take a cookie.
"Good, good. So, darling, Morgan is in the kitchen, if you could just go there…she’s waiting for you." She points in the hallway to the right. "Through there." Then she goes to the living room area and entertains her guests.
I walk down the hall and into the kitchen. I see Morgan standing by the island counter, mixing in a bowl with a spatula. She still hasn’t notice me, as she’s chatting with a plump woman in a maid’s uniform. I knock my knuckles on the wooden doorway and the both of them look up at me. Morgan smiles.
"Hi." She greets me, letting go of the spatula and wipes her hands on the apron around her waist. The maid smirks and nudges Morgan on the side. Morgan turns to her and rolls her eyes. "Helen, this is John, the friend I was expecting." She pats the woman on the back affectionately. "And John, this is Helen."
I wave a hand at Helen.
"It’s nice to meet you." Helen smiles sweetly at me. She turns briefly to Morgan. "I’ll be outside and find a way to help your mother. God forbid, she loses her mind the second she runs out of cookies to give out to your cousins." She takes a plate of fresh cookies and leaves the room.
Morgan grins. “You didn’t like it?” She eyes the cookie in my hand. “I made them, you know.”
"Oh, um, I just haven’t tried it yet." I say and take a bite. Damn, it is a good cookie. "This is really good." I sit on one of the bar stools by the island and lean my elbows on the counter, across from her.
"Thanks." She says, then turns back to mixing in the bowl. She flashes me an apologetic look. "I’m sorry about the, uh, chaos outside. It’s just—they’re family, so it’s impossible to get rid of them."
"Oh, it’s fine. If there’s one thing I really get, it’s the chaos of having family over at our place." I say.
"Right? And to think that they’ll be here for the whole week." She laughs, adding a few more ingredients to the bowl. Her movements are fluid and she barely looks at the items she adds on the bowl, as if she had all of them memorized. "I mean, I love them all, but it’s too much sometimes."
I smile at her. “You, uh, you really know what you’re doing there, huh?” I nod at the bowl in front of her.
"Oh, yeah. Been baking since I hit puberty." She laughs. "One of the two things that I can actually do. Helen—she practically raised me—she’s the one who taught me in the kitchen."
"Really? I thought your mom would do that."
Morgan scoffs. “Please. My mom loves to cook, but it hasn’t come across her mind that she’s not exactly a master in the kitchen.”
"Oh, and you are?" I raise an eyebrow at her.
"Heck yeah, I am." She says confidently. "I have the evidence right here." She gestures the batch of cookies on an oven tray.
I laugh and grab a cookie, munching on it.
After a moment, she asks, “So what are your Thanksgiving plans?”
I swallow a mound of cookie before speaking. “After our show tomorrow, we’ll head back to Arizona—just in time for Thanksgiving.” I say, before asking, “So what have you been up to lately? “
"Well, I’ve been living in Boston, actually." She says. "For a while. Now, I’m back here."
"Boston, huh?"
"Yeah. I had an internship there, at a museum. Since it’s over now, I’m back home."
"And you’re gonna take over your grandfather’s gallery, right?" I ask, remembering how she’s excited about it. Her shrugging somberly is not the reaction I expected.
"I’ve been thinking about it." She says in a low voice, pouring the contents of the mixing bowl in their individual pie trays now.
"And?"
"And I’m not so sure about it anymore." She says simply.
Something in Morgan’s voice tells me that this subject is closed. Deciding not to pry, I change the subject. “I didn’t realize you live in a world like this.”
"What?" She asks amusedly. "Can you explain that?"
I let out a laugh. “This world.” I say. “The-the doorman, the penthouse, the maid, the mom who is all about presentation in society or whatever—”
Morgan laughs out loud now. “Presentation in society?” She repeats. “You’re shitting me, right?”
I look down in embarrassment, laughing a little.
"Look," she sets down the now-empty bowl and leans her elbows down on the counter. She lowers her voice. "My mom’s a total nut job half the time—you had the special preview of my relationship with her in the grocery earlier today. I love her to death, which is why I put up with her craziness but let me tell you, that is not an acceptable presentation in society."
"I’m sorry." I sigh, a smile still glued in my face. "I can’t—I can’t think straight right now, you know?"
Morgan sends me a confused look. “Why is that?” She asks as she puts her pie trays in the oven.
It takes a moment for me to answer. I drum my fingers on the counter nervously, as Morgan leans the heals of her palms on the edge of the counter now, waiting for me to answer.
I look up at her. “Okay, so here’s the deal.” I take a deep breath and stare into Morgan’s startling green eyes, those eyes that I have been thinking about for months. “I missed you.” I watch her expression change. “I’ve been a real idiot in London. You have no idea how much I regretted saying all those things—because frankly, right now, I don’t care about the odds or w-whatever.” I walk around the counter to be closer to her. She turns to face me. “I’ve been fooling myself—there’s no one else like you. Whenever I try to be with someone else, I only just end up wishing it was you—and that is driving me insane. What’s even worse, I couldn’t find you. All I know is that you’re Morgan—that’s it. No other information.” I take her hand and lace my fingers with hers. She’s now looking down on our joint hands. “And when I saw you in the store—it’s like, I’m given another chance or something. It’s amazing how we keep seeing each other, even if we tried not to.” I bring my hand to her face, cupping her cheek. “I want to try now, with you. I don’t give a damn about the distance or how different our lives are—or how different the both of us are. I can’t stand walking away from you anymore.” I sigh, relieved that I’ve let all those out now, glad that they’re out in the open. “So the question is, do you wanna do the same thing, for me?”
What I totally didn’t expect is for Morgan to pull away from me. She walks a few yards away from me, her back to me. She crosses her arms and takes a deep breath, facing the window above the sink now. “I don’t know, John.” She mumbles.
I don’t say a thing, just stand there and stare at her. She turns around to face me again, but maintains her distance.
"Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you, too. Regardless of not knowing you that much, you still mean a lot to me. That’s why I wanted to see you today, too." She pauses, purses her lips, before continuing. "We may keep running into each other in different places in the world and we may claim that we can’t find anyone else that is what we are with each other but do you really think those are enough?"
My jaw clenches. I’m already dreading what she’s gonna say.
"You were right, in London. I don’t know what was up with me—maybe it was nostalgia and loneliness—but you were the only one thinking rationally in the room that night." She says. "I have thought about this a lot, after that night. And I…with you and I, to make it work, we—or at least one of us—have to make drastic changes to be with the other. And I just got out of college and I’m just starting my life. I’m still figuring it out. I’m not like you—who already has a job and is set for the next five years or so. I still have to figure myself out and that can’t be based on someone else—those changes, they have to be about me and not…you—or anyone else, for that matter."
I look down on the floor, still not saying a thing.
Morgan walks over to me. She hesitates a little but brings her hand on my chest, moving it up slowly and then around my neck. She says softly, “Maybe you and I will work someday—just not now.”
I look down, biting my lip. I say quietly, “What if we don’t get a chance anymore?”
This sets Morgan back. She pulls her hand away from me and takes a step back. “I don’t…” She takes a deep breath. “Then we’ll just have to accept it.” She says.
I stare at her, a hard expression in my face, not saying a thing. I know what she said makes perfect sense, just as I had done in London. And now, I’m on the other end of the line—the rejected end. Nodding, I suddenly can’t look at her anymore. So I leave. She calls for me, but I don’t answer.
As I walk to the elevator in the living room, Mrs. Hyland shows up in front of me. Great, just exactly what I need right now.
She smiles at me. “Already leaving? But you just got here!”
"I’m sorry, I just remembered that I have to..um, I have to get some work stuff—get to some work stuff, I mean." I say and start to move past her but she stops me. Honestly, what is with the Hylands? I need to fucking leave.
"So did Morgan talk to you?" Mrs. Hyland asks.
"Oh, you bet." I say, trying not to sound bitter about it.
"Oh, good. I’ve been trying to talk to her ever since she got back from Boston, but she just won’t open up. A closed box, Morgan always is. I’m glad you’ve been there for her to talk to. Because she was pretty close to him, and now that he’s gone, she doesn’t show it, but it has taken a toll on her—more than anyone else in this family."
I furrow my eyebrows. I ask suddenly, “What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Hyland looks surprised. “Morgan’s grandfather—he passed away a few months ago. Days after Morgan’s graduation, in fact. He was so proud of her, when she got the diploma…I thought she talked to you about it?”
I shake my head. “No, she didn’t. I didn’t know.” I stare at the direction to the kitchen, debating on whether or not I should go back to her. After a moment passes, I decide not to. She doesn’t want me to be with her right now, and I’ll give her that.
I turn back to Mrs. Hyland. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really do have to go.”
"Alright, then. It’s very nice to meet you, John." She says.
I nod then walk to the elevator.