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CHAPTER 3

Morgan

Morgan studied herself in the bathroom mirror.She was only thirty-four, but the gray hairs peeking out of her eyebrows betrayed the kind of life she’d led.

When she had moved into her tiny one-bedroom apartment in Portland, Oregon, she assured herself it would be temporary.She’d been there for three years now.The kitchen had a mid-size refrigerator and a stovetop with only one working burner.The place resembled a dorm suite that hadn’t been updated since the eighteen-hundreds.In the living room, there was a worn brown leather love seat against one wall and a small particle board desk her next-door neighbor had put on the curb.To add some life to the place, colorful artwork prints covered every wall, but in truth, some of the “art” work covered up bubbles in the paint.

Even with the few possessions Morgan owned, the apartment was crowded—even claustrophobic--but the longer she lived there, the more deeply she burrowed into her cocoon.The sheer fact that she could never lose her keys or phone in a place the size of a school locker made it worthwhile.

Morgan grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter to call her sister.Charlie would likely be at work, so Morgan wasn’t sure she would be able to talk.Morgan tried to avoid her reflection staring at her from the toaster as she waited for Charlie to answer.When she had been in the bathroom, she’d missed the stray black hair sticking out of her chin.Am I becoming the witch from Hansel and Gretel?I need to stop looking at reflective surfaces.She was about to hang up and go pluck the hair when Charlie answered.

“Have you seen Facebook today?”Morgan asked, not bothering to say hello.Sisters didn’t need formalities.

“No, was there another adorable husky howling at its owner?”Charlie asked.

“It’s not a husky this time,” Morgan said.“It’s Mom.She’s gone viral.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Go online and check out Facebook.”

Morgan could hear the clicking of Charlie’s computer keyboard.While she waited for Charlie to sign on, she tried to use her fingers to pull the hair out of her chin, but she couldn’t catch a hold of it.She turned the toaster away from her so she didn’t have to look at it.

“Oh, my God, it’s on more than just Facebook,” Charlie said.

“It’s crazy,” Morgan said.

“I can’t believe Mom saved Martha and her cat.”

“I know.Mom hates cats.”

“Funny.Have you talked to her?”Charlie asked.

“Yes, but she didn’t want to talk about it.She’s either being modest or weird.”

“Does Abby know?”Charlie asked.

“I don’t know, I called you first,” Morgan said.During the following, she returned to the bathroom, grabbed the tweezers, and yanked the chin hair out as if she were pulling a nail out of a wall.She cringed and rubbed her chin; it hurt more than she expected.

“Do you mind if I tell Abby?”Charlie asked.

“No, then she can’t ask me to babysit,” Morgan said.

Charlie laughed.“What did her kids do this time?”

“I watched the kids so Abby and Alex could have a night out.After they left, I wanted to make myself a cup of coffee, so I put all four of the kids in front of cartoons.When I came back into the family room, one of them had switched the channel on the TV to Dateline, and the kids and the dog were all tied together with yarn.The little gremlins giggled and jumped around the whole time, making it almost impossible for me to get them untied.I was drenched in sweat when Abby and Alex got home.”

“Abby deserves a medal…or a purple heart.And if you tell her I said that, I’ll remind her about the time you wore her new sweater to picture day at school,” Charlie said.

“How dumb was I not to realize Mom would put my senior picture on the mantel.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Abby that mad.”

“Yeah, if I hadn’t smelled my shampoo, I never would’ve realized she’d put ranch dressing in it,” Morgan said.

“Abby could be vindictive when she was a kid.”

“I didn’t always like her until she grew up.She may be the reason I don’t want to have kids of my own.”