People say that your life flashes before your eyes, but the truth is, there isn’t time. When your life is threatened - when there is a gun at your head - all you can think of are two words: “No,” and “Please.”
Morgan had dreamed of it every night for the last four months, since a fast-food employee who worked on campus - someone she and her friends had considered harmless and a little slow - had come into the study room where they had been studying and pulled a gun on them.
The worst nightmares were like the one she had just had.
She was in a classroom. It was the first day of a Spanish class, and the students had been told that they would be learning from old textbooks that looked ragged. Morgan could read the words on the cover of the book but couldn’t understand their meaning.
In the dream, her high school choir director, Mr. Logan, was supposed to teach Spanish. He sat behind a metal desk, dressed in a plain white tee shirt and boxers. But what got to Morgan even more was the fact that none of her friends were there. All of her peers were unfamiliar.
It turned out this time that the gunman was unknown, too. He was a high-school-aged kid. He had come in late, waving a gun around.
This time, Morgan wasted no time in hitting the floor. In crawling under the desk that was too small to hide beneath so that her head was mostly protected, but her legs stuck out.
She heard shots and jumped but didn’t scream. All of a sudden, something metallic hit the top of her desk. Somehow, the kid with the gun managed to slide his arm and the weapon in the small space between the desks. He pressed the gun against Morgan’s head.
“Do you want to die?” he asked.
And Morgan had uttered the words she still regretted:
“No… Please…”
--
She woke up slick with sweat but didn’t scream. She never screamed anymore. That made it worse, because then when someone came toward, meaning to help, Morgan was completely unable to differentiate comfort from a threat in the moments between asleep and awake.
Her roommates and friends were all coping differently. She knew for a fact that Libby and Emily, the two youngest girls in the apartment, pushed their beds together after Emily moved back in. She continued to scare the shit out of all of them when she woke up, screaming as if something horrible was happening. Morgan guessed it helped them to feel close to one another.
Morgan got her coat and silently slipped out of the house. She wouldn’t be missed, except by Legend, who regularly got up in the middle of the night to check on - and Morgan thought - count everyone, to be sure they were all still there.
But right now Morgan couldn’t stand being surrounded by people who had been there. She needed to be with the one person who wasn’t there. She needed to be with her boyfriend, Liam.
Getting in the car, she started the short drive, losing herself in memories of her friends, and that day.
Now, when Morgan thought of her friends, she didn’t think of their characteristics or their appearance when she wanted to describe them. She thought of their injuries.
Emily was the single one of everyone in that room who had come out of it physically unharmed. She was hiding under a table with Bryan, who had been shot in the shoulder the first round of gunshots, and Jonathan, who had pissed Buddy off midway through the crisis, by sending some kind of hand signal to others in the room. Jon ended up needing a transfusion after Buddy sliced the side of his face with a knife. Aaron, she remembered, had been hiding under the same table but made a daring escape, climbing on top of the table when Buddy was distracted, and jumping out the shattered window. He broke his foot, but he got out.
Under the table near theirs, Legend had cut her hand on glass when the window shattered. Her best friend Jess, for reasons Morgan still couldn’t understand, had been shot in the head. It was a miracle she was alive and able to raise her son, Christian, who turned five a month after his mom was nearly killed.
Morgan’s own table, she sometimes thought, got the worst of it.
Because Buddy grabbed Libby and pulled her out from under the table by her hair. He made her stand in the middle of the room. He had picked out Nathaniel, too. Coby had also been hiding with them and had done his best to pull Morgan away when Buddy came for her. Coby had been shot in the leg.
Buddy asked who wanted to go first, and though Morgan didn’t have a specific idea about what he had in mind, she had an idea. Now, Morgan had no idea what possessed her to actually volunteer for whatever sadistic things this psycho had in mind. Only the vague thought that maybe if she offered herself, Buddy would spare the others. But he hadn’t.
Morgan had been taken behind the wooden desk in the study room with the lights off, and the knife at her neck. He had kissed her, and touched her, and then completely crushed her when he told her she could go and took Libby next, to do the same to her.
He made Libby get Nathaniel herself.
“Get the fag,” Buddy had said coldly.
Morgan had been doing her best to stop Coby’s bleeding, taking her belt off and securing it around his leg, but she turned at Buddy’s latest request. Nathaniel was still standing at the front of the room. She saw him swallow in the darkness, and by the time Libby was back in sight of the others, Nate was on his way behind the desk, having steeled himself for whatever he would endure. He was the only gay man in the room, barely 21, and sweet as could be. But his orientation made him a target, and he knew it.
Morgan was still incensed when she heard the news reports that it was a random crime. All the special shows dedicated to figuring out why he had done it, when Morgan knew the truth. He did it because he wanted to. He hand-picked his victims, waited until he knew they were all in a room together, and brutalized them.
When she had thought it couldn’t get any worse, Buddy had called her back a final time. Morgan made herself obey. She made herself not fight back, even when he slammed her against the wall. He had the gun this time, and she tried to convince him he didn’t need it. To her surprise, he dropped it, but then took her to the floor with him, and raped her.
When he was done, Buddy picked up the gun, and Morgan was sure this was it.
She begged, because it was all that entered her head at that moment, and in some cruel twist of fate, instead of shooting her, he had taken his own life right in front of her eyes.
--
Morgan blinked. Somehow, she had arrived at Liam’s apartment and not known it.
He had given her a key in case of emergencies and she used it, letting herself in and creeping down the hall. She was startled to find Nathaniel up, watching old reruns of Roseanne on Nick at Nite.
“Hey,” he said softly, his brown eyes shining in the artificial light of the TV. “Wanna watch with me?”
“No, thanks,” she answered, trying to smile. Instead, Morgan eased Liam’s bedroom door open, crawling into bed with him - on top of the blankets while he was underneath. Liam wouldn’t send her away. He wouldn’t say no.
He never did.
--
Nathaniel sighed, and flipped the channel, settling on The Food Network, because it reminded him of home. His younger brother, Josiah, told him regularly that he would either end up being a professional hockey player or a chef. Nate had his money on chef.
He tried to concentrate on the show. It was a race between chefs, where they had to make a unique dish to serve, but they had to include the secret ingredient. Tonight, it was strawberries. Just his luck that they’d be using something he was allergic to.
Nate’s mind kept wandering to Liam’s room. He wondered what aliens had kidnapped his hyper and super godly roommate and put this passive doormat in his place. In August, when he, Jonathan and Nathaniel had moved in, Liam made it his personal mission to make their house have standards. He made rules, and made sure they were followed.
First and foremost, none of them were to have dates over. Nate had known all along the rules were a result of his coming out. So, maybe having done it in Bible study, where Liam was the leader, wasn’t the best idea. But in his own defense, Liam had asked. Turned out, though, that Liam was super homophobic. Nate was sure he made the rules so that Liam wouldn’t be contaminated by sin.
But now that everything had happened a few months ago, it was like they had no rules. Morgan had been showing up all the time, with the sole purpose of cuddling or necking or whatever. Nate usually didn’t mind straights, but lately Liam and Morgan were just plain sickening with their baby talk and their smooching and the way Liam said yes to every suggestion Morgan made.
It was sort of hard to believe that Nate had been close to Morgan, but he had been. Especially after. He and Libby were best friends from the start, but he and Morgan had been close, too. She had always been fiercely independent, protective and she had standards. Now, Nate wondered if those were disappearing because of what happened to her.
True, some of them had kind of let themselves go since everything, but some had made changes for the better. Jonathan, for example. He had started out super adorable and super conceited. But after they had been hurt, Jonathan seemed to get a better handle on what was really important. He was even mostly okay with having broken up with his longtime girlfriend when she couldn’t handle it.
But this whole bending the rules thing had Nate wondering. If Morgan was allowed to come over whenever she wanted, maybe he could invite somebody. If Liam was playing Love Connection, he couldn’t very well judge Nate for the same thing, could he?
Because Nathaniel had been working in the kitchen on campus - washing dishes with Bryan, actually - when he caught sight of somebody totally his type last week.
He had dark hair and arresting blue eyes. Mystery Boy wore more make up than Emily. And she wore a lot. But he wore it well. It made him look pretty. Most of all, this guy wasn’t ashamed to be who he was. He wore his jeans tight, with flower designs and jewels sewn by the cuffs, put all kinds of color in his hair, and wore shirts with sparkly stuff on them. People harassed him about it sometimes, but this guy didn’t care.
“Hey, you ever gonna finish that load of dishes?” Bryan had asked good-naturedly. He almost snapped Nate with the dish-towel, but caught himself in time. Nate didn’t do well with unexpected stuff. Instead, he followed Nate’s line of vision through the little window, to the table where a guy was sitting, licking an ice cream cone, his nose buried in a book of Auguste Rodin sculptures.
“I got this,” Bryan said easily.
“What?” Nate asked, looking startled. “No, it’s okay. I’ll finish.”
“Take a break,” Bryan had urged. “Get an ice cream and go introduce yourself.”
Nathaniel blushed to the roots of his hair, but took the hint. He couldn’t afford to be shy all the time, especially now. If there was one benefit to what he’d been through, Nate guessed it made him a little braver. Honestly, after someone went crazy hating on him and shooting his friends, talking to a hot guy didn’t look nearly as intimidating as it used to. He grabbed himself an ice cream cone, and joined the stranger at his table.
“Hey, I’m Nathaniel,” he introduced, turning a chair backward before sitting on it.
“Cary Mackey,” he returned, extending a hand to shake, and sent him a disarming smile.
He had a strong handshake. That was a good sign. Nate did his best to match it.
“Haven’t seen you around,” Nathaniel observed, licking his own ice cream thoughtfully.
“Nope. Just transferred this semester,” Cary said easily.
“You transferred to High City? Why?” Nate asked, surprised. The number of drop-outs and transfers out had spiked in the aftermath of the tragedy, as it was called here. Nate had never heard of someone coming to the site of so much upheaval voluntarily.
Cary shrugged. “They have a good arts program.”
The questions were burning a hole in Nate’s brain. Did he know what happened here? Did he know Nate, or think he did, from the news coverage?
“Go ahead,” Cary allowed. “Ask.”
“A-are you an arts major?” Nate stuttered, not able to make his mouth form the questions he really wanted answers to.
“For now,” he nodded, tossing his cone in a nearby trash can.
Nate folded his arms, resting them on the back of the chair, and resting his head on his arms. “Do you know what happened here?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” Cary answered, not flinching.
“Do you know who I am?” Nate asked, faltering a little. This wouldn’t work if he said yes a second time.
“I recognize your face, if that’s what you mean,” Cary answered, mirroring Nate’s low tone of voice. “I don’t know you, and I’m not going to pretend I do. We’ve barely talked for five minutes.”
“Why didn’t you ask me about it?” Nate wondered softly. Everyone took simply seeing him out somewhere as permission to ask what it was like, how much blood there was, or if he thought he was going to die. Cary had done nothing but let him speak first. Let him ask the questions.
“Because it’s your business,” Cary said simply, honestly.
And that’s when Nathaniel knew Cary was the one for him, even if Cary didn’t know it yet.
--
“Hey, Jess. Have you seen Morgan? “ Legend asked, standing on tip-toe to get a mug out of the cupboard. Over the months, her tastes had changed to where she preferred hot chocolate in the morning instead of coffee. It was just as well. Morgan and Libby were still strongly anti-coffee, since apparently, that had been what Buddy tasted like.
The thought made Legend shudder.
“Jess,” she asked again, trying to get her friend’s attention.
But Jess didn’t hear. She was staring at the microwave, punching the start button over and over and watching, disappointed, as nothing happened.
“I think Morgan’s at a sleepover,” Christian offered. “I heared her get up last night, and then her car drove away.”
“Great,” Legend sighed. “Jess. Can I get in there sometime this century?” she muttered impatiently. She understood that some things were tough for Jess, but it was frustrating when she didn’t pay attention, didn’t ask for help. And it was frustrating when she asked, because it reminded Legend how much had been stolen from them.
“You are going to work,” Jess told the microwave lowly. She read the start button carefully, and pushed it again. “Can somebody figure out how this works?” she called, finally exasperated.
“You should try to figure it out for yourself,” Legend advised.
Jess turned unsteadily. Her curly red-brown hair had been cut short, and one side had only a top layer, as those underneath had been shaved for brain surgery. It looked like her hair was two different lengths. Jess put her hand on her hip. She was finally over wearing sweats and dressed in workout pants and long-sleeved shirts because it was still kind of cold out, and Jess was well-aware that she had shrunk down to nothing in the months since her hospitalization. Well, she always joked, that was one way to lose those hated post-pregnancy pounds.
“If I could figure it out, I wouldn’t be asking for help,” she said irritably. She didn’t have all the time in the world to figure out basic stuff. Not when she had to get herself and Christian dressed, make sure they both ate and looked presentable in time for Coby to come by and pick them up.
“Morning,” Libby called walking into the kitchen with a cup of mint tea.
Jess scowled, wondering how she had managed to heat it up.
“Here, Jess, look. Hit the button that says cook first, then the time, then start,” Libby advised sweetly, hitting the buttons and sitting down beside Christian to have Cookie Crisp.
“I like your jammies,” Christian confided softly.
“Thanks. I do, too!” Libby told him, kissing his head. Libby had just gotten the best pair of lavender footie pajamas. They had hearts, rainbows and sheep on them, and they were the softest thing Libby had ever worn. She had already decided she would pick up some for the other girls, too, and Christian, since he was closer to the actual age when kids wore stuff like that.
“Jessica Lynn Gray,” Emily announced loudly, a smile in her voice. “Inquiring minds would like to know what exactly you’re heating up for thirty seconds?”
Even if most things around their house had changed, a few hadn’t. Emily still dressed like she belonged on the front page of a mall advertisement, and she still made an entrance.
She was dressed in green, her color of the month. It was actually a cheerleading costume that she had worn last Halloween, but every once in a while, Emily wore it as a regular outfit, because it was so cute. She even had matching pom-pom earrings.
Jess did a double-take, before realizing that all her efforts to make the machine run had been in vain after all, since she had forgotten to put her egg whites in the microwave anyway. She burst out laughing, grateful when Legend stuck them in for her, still waiting to heat up her own hot chocolate.
“I can hardly wait ‘til classes are over today!” Emily exclaimed, peeling a banana and taking a big bite.
“Spring Break! Yes!” Christian cheered. “Hey, Mom? Can we go to Mexico?”
“No, we don’t have money for a vacation, baby,” Jess sighed. Some things never changed.
“But what if,” Christian said conspiratorially, “We went there in our minds…”
“That’s perfect,” Jess answered. “Tell me when you’re going, so I can come, too.”
--
Coby groaned when he heard Aaron’s alarm go off loud enough to wake the whole apartment.
“Outside! Inside out! Livin’ la vida loca!” Ricky Martin sang, making Coby sure he was a freshman in high school again.
“Hey, Menudo!” Bryan called. “Turn that damn thing off and save our ears.”
Coby was about ready to turn it off himself, which would have also included throwing it against the wall, when he inadvertently glanced at his phone. The screen was lit up with the name Jess.
“Shit,” Coby swore. He had finished finals the day before, but he’d promised Jess he would give her a ride to and from campus, since she was on some anti-seizure medication and wasn’t allowed to drive herself anywhere.
Well, that, and she meant everything to him.
Coby threw on pants and a shirt, greeting Bryan who was still in bed, and Aaron who had his face buried in the Bible and was absently eating leftover popcorn out of a bowl beside his bed. Cringing, Coby grabbed his keys and a handful of Altoids and hurried out the door.
--
“So, are we having BS before Spring Break, or what?” Jon asked having adopted Aaron‘s abbreviation for Bible study. He carefully flipping a fluffy omelet so that it would cook to perfection on the other side. Jon had taken a few tips from Bryan and a few more from Morgan, and decided to learn his way around the kitchen. Omelets were his specialty.
If he was shocked to see Morgan sitting on Liam’s lap at the breakfast table, Jon didn’t show it. He set a plate down in front of her, smacking Liam’s hand away when he tried to sneak a bite.
“That’s Morgan’s, jerk-wad. Yours is coming in a minute. You didn’t answer me,” Jon reminded.
“Oh, what?” he glanced up, trying to ignore the Hawaiian stuff Morgan was saying in his ear. He giggled in spite of himself.
“He wants to know if we’re having Bible study today,” Morgan cooed softly in his ear.
“Uh, yeah, of course,” Liam stammered, eating the bite of omelet Morgan offered.
“Jonathan. You’ll never guess what the secret ingredient was last night.” Nate said, coming into the kitchen.
“Cheese. No, wait. Chocolate,” Jon guessed, plating Nate’s omelet.
“You’re such a moron. It was strawberries. I was so bummed,” Nate said sadly, but perked up at the sight of a perfect ham and cheese omelet. He stabbed a huge bite and ate hungrily. “Mmm, this is so good. Ooh, hold on,” Nate managed, swallowing as he felt his phone vibrate.
One glance at the screen and he tossed it to Liam. He fumbled it, of course, but Morgan caught it for him.
“Libby,” Nate supplied so Liam would stop looking so confused. “You know, your sister?” he said as Liam finally picked it up and said hello.
--
“Liam! Where are you? I’m gonna be late. I have a final in ten minutes!” Libby exclaimed. She had tried to call his phone ten times, but he refused to answer it. Every time his voice on his message urged her to have a blessed day, Libby wanted to smack him.
Liam sighed. “Lib, I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” he said, biting his lip as Morgan fed him more of her eggs. “Don’t you think you should try using all that stuff you’re learning in counseling and get past this fear you have of driving. I mean, I’m here for you now, but I won’t always be…”
“William!” she whined. “I don’t need a lecture, I need a ride, or I’m going to fail Spanish a second time! Is that what you want? Legend and Emily already left, and Coby already came for Jess and Christian!”
“Libby, if you fail, that’s on you. Not me,” Liam told her evenly.
Nate was halfway out of his chair, when Jonathan snapped at him. “Nathaniel, sit your ass down and eat your breakfast. I got Libby,” he sent Liam an angry look as he prepared to dump Liam’s omelet on a plate.
“That’s okay. We’ll just share this one,” Liam said in such a ridiculously false tone, that Jonathan wanted to punch him in the face.
Nate took his phone back and passed along the message that Jon was coming to give her a ride. He hung up and leveled a look at Liam. “So, I think Cary and I are gonna hang out here after class.”
“So,” Liam smiled widely. “You found a lady after all.”
“Cary’s a guy, you douche! And he‘ll beat your ass if you try any of your controlling shit on him or Nathaniel. Then I‘ll take a turn!” Jon promised on his way out the door.
Liam blinked, clearly confused. “What? You said Cary, though.”
“It’s Cary like Cary Grant,” Morgan explained softly, turning her head to nibble on his ear.
“Was she, like, a model?” Liam asked Morgan sweetly.
“He was an actor, in all kinds of old movies and stuff,” Nate answered, finishing his breakfast quickly and setting his dishes in the sink. Before he left for class, though, he made sure that the stove was off. Liam and Morgan probably didn’t have a single bit of common sense between them anymore, with both of them so set on each other.
If the kitchen burned down around them, Nate doubted either would notice.
No comments:
Post a Comment