I didn't like being jealous when it came to Gerard. He always said he liked that about me, and the fact that I trusted him so well.
But this Morgan just sucked the life out of him, and she took so much time I could have with him away.
I'd been with Gee once when he went to check on her progress. I remember she hadn't written anything, but apparently that's what she always says.
Yes, you can see where I'm going with this, can't you?
The next time Gerard decided to give her a visit was about a week later, which he deemed long enough for her to have written something new.
“Can I go?” I begged.
“Um...” Gee hesitated, caught off guard. “Sure, but…why?”
“Cause,” I said, not wanting to elaborate.
“I dunno,” I shrugged.
He let out a sigh, though I could tell he was slightly amused. “Alright, then.”
It only took me about 10 minutes to get ready, though he insisted we could go looking like poor white trash and Morgan could care less.
“Hello?” a girl with long black hair answered the door, whom I assumed to be Morgan, then immediately got an annoyed look on her face. “Oh. Hi, Gerard. Frank.”
So she remembered me.
Gerard got a perplexed look on his face, suggesting she usually had more creative greetings than that.
She beckoned us in, and we got another greeting from a different room of the sound of roaring water. She and led the way to the computer, where she pulled up another chair.
“Go ahead,” she muttered, returning to the room with running water. “It's already up.”
“You knew I was coming?” Gee asked, bewildered.
“You texted me, remember?”
“Oh,” he grunted, apparently disappointed.
And with that she disappeared.
I sat and waited while Gerard read, taking notice of the room she'd left us in.
It felt big, even with all the furniture, though it couldn't have been more than 10 feet tall. I couldn't see any portraits or family photos in the dimly lit room, but I did see a few very simple paintings and several pieces of pottery.
I knew Gee wasn't a slow reader, but he was taking a while with what she'd just finished.
Eventually, the sound of water froze and Morgan came back in.
“It’s actually a little less cynical than usual,” Gee remarked, not prying his gaze from the computer.
“Hm,” Morgan sighed, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“You...uh...wrote...in the beginning....”
I tuned out, concentrating more on Morgan’s frame. She had to have been at least four inches shorter than me. Did he say she was thirteen? Or fourteen? I think he said thirteen.... But she seemed too small to be thirteen.
Whatever her age, the cynical and, honestly, bitchy attitude protruded more so than anything else and, for some reason, disbanded my paranoia.
That...and the fact that Gee really was reading a story.