Page 39 of When People Leave

Morgan

M organ woke up—if you could call what she’d done sleeping—before sunrise and walked the two blocks to Starbucks. It was so early that she thought she would be the first customer there, but the place already had a handful of people waiting for their morning pick-me-up.

The espresso machines gurgled and hissed as each barista politely took ridiculously complicated orders from picky customers.

The microwave dinged periodically as it warmed up croissants and egg tartlets for those same people.

The baristas called out the customers’ names while Morgan waited for her cappuccino with no extras, under the name Pumpernickel.

She realized she wasn’t alone in giving a fun fake name.

Today, she heard Radcliffe, Obama, and her new all-time favorite, Uncle Mikey.

The tables around Morgan began filling up with early risers infused with liquid energy.

Some were already clicking away on their laptops, two clusters of moms chatted and laughed— probably about their kids, and an earnest man in an ill-fitting suit discussed his resume with an intense red-headed woman in black slacks and a silk blouse.

After Morgan had been sitting at the same table for two hours with her hands wrapped around a cold cappuccino, she considered ordering another one, but the line had stretched out the door and into the parking lot. She knew if she got up, she’d lose her table, and she was enjoying the time alone.

In Brooklyn people patiently waited in long lines in the cold to order their coffee, Morgan thought. It’s rarely under sixty degrees In Los Angeles, and I can hear complaints every time the door opens.

The sun had finally emerged from behind a cloud, so people inside began shedding their hoodies and light jackets and draping them off the backs of their chairs.

The chatter inside grew louder as each new table became occupied.

The voices rose and fell like Muzak to Morgan but less annoying.

She eavesdropped on the couple next to her having a heated discussion about who would get custody of the parakeet if they decided to separate.

She tried hard to use all the background noise as a distraction from the thoughts doing somersaults in her head.

How will I ever trust anyone again when my own mother lied about the most important things ? How could someone supposed to love us betray us and then kill herself so we can’t ask why?

She wanted to scream, and she would have if she didn’t think the baristas would call the police or kick her out.

Morgan rubbed her forehead hard, trying to push the thoughts onto a more productive path, but like ornery children, they refused to listen.

If nothing else, maybe all the rubbing would help smooth out her wrinkles so she could at least look like a youthful, crazy person.

Morgan had always thought Carla was rational and made good decisions, so she had to have had a valid reason for hiding Brian from them. Now, she and her sisters would only know his side of things, and after this many years, how would that explain why Carla took her own life?

Morgan pondered what it might be like if they met their father in person. What if he didn’t like them? She and Charlie aren’t the cute toddlers he remembers. What if we don’t like him? Has too much time passed to have this man, a total stranger, come into our lives?

Her thoughts were interrupted by two college-age girls standing in front of her table glaring at her.

She knew they wanted her to relinquish her seat.

Although Morgan took pleasure in the mere implication that they thought they could influence her with their stares, she decided she’d been there long enough.

As she reached behind her and took her purse off the back of her chair, Morgan noticed a young man looking for a table coming up beside her.

He was the epitome of the guys she wished liked her.

He wore a polo shirt but had hair down to his shoulders and a tattoo of a roaring lion on his upper arm.

She would have flirted with him if he had been ten years older and didn’t look like he drove a muscle car.

“Would you like this table?” she asked him, “I’m about to leave.”

He thanked her and she stood up so he could sit down. The girls sneered at Morgan. You snooze you lose, she thought as she gave the girls a big smile. Learn to be more polite to older people, then next time, maybe you will have won out over the cute guy…although I doubt it.

By the time Morgan had walked back to Carla’s house, it was nine o’clock. She assumed her sisters would be awake, but the house was silent, and even Albert was asleep in his furry bed.

Morgan needed to vent to someone. She returned to the front door, opened it, and then slammed it so hard the walls rattled.

Within seconds, Charlie and Abby sprinted into the living room. Charlie rubbed her eyes, and Abby stretched her arms over her head.

“What was that banging?” Charlie asked.

“I heard it, too. It woke me up,” Abby said.

Morgan shrugged her shoulders, hiding a smile. “I didn’t hear anything. But, since you’re both up, we have some things we should discuss.”

“Okay, but we need coffee first,” Charlie said, yawning. “Do you want any, Morgan?”

“I’ll have a little,” Morgan said, then realized she had forgotten to bring back their vanilla lattes.

Charlie made coffee and then handed Abby and Morgan mugs. Morgan rarely drank more than one cup because it made her jittery, so she pretended to sip hers, but then she let out a loud belch.

“Nice manners,” Charlie said.

“Who cares about manners,” Morgan said.

“No wonder you don’t have a man in your life,” Abby said.

Abby and Charlie laughed lightheartedly.

“Am I the only one who’s freaking out about finding our father?” Morgan said. “How can you both seem calm?”

“Who says we’re calm?” Abby said.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else,” Charlie said.

“Except maybe good manners,” Abby smirked. Then she took her napkin and, daintily wiped the corners of her mouth with her pinky in the air.

Morgan narrowed her eyes into a piercing stare. “We didn’t ask enough questions when we talked to Brian,” Morgan said. “We need to ask him what happened between him and Mom.”

“We don’t even know him. Why should we believe what he says?” Charlie asked.

“Well, we know we can’t trust Mom’s version. She said he left us and then died, and now we know at least one of those things is not true,” Abby said.

“So, Mom lied about him being dead; I’m sure she had her reasons. Maybe we need to give her the benefit of the doubt,” Morgan said as she sprinkled two Stevia packages in her coffee.

“When people get divorced, there can be a nasty custody dispute. One person might not want to share parenting responsibilities,” Charlie said.

“Are you saying Mom could have wanted us all to herself?” Abby asked.

“Wouldn’t that be kidnapping?” Morgan asked and Charlie shrugged.

“Oh my God, we were kidnapped,” Abby said.

“You weren’t. Brian didn’t even know about you,” Morgan said.

Abby pouted.

“Abby, whether you’re his or not, you’re still our sister,” Charlie said, and Morgan nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” Abby said. “And I agree that even if he’s not my father, we should call him again.”

Abby looked at her recent phone calls to get Brian’s number. She called him, placing the phone in the center of the kitchen table. It rang four times before they heard his deep and mellow voice.

“Hello,” Brian said.

“Hi,” the sisters said in unison, Abby’s voice not quite as loud as her sisters.

“I’m so glad you called,” Brian said. “I haven’t been able to think about anything other than all of you. Even you, Abby.”

Morgan patted Abby’s hand and Abby smiled.

“Would it be okay if we asked you a few more questions?” Charlie asked.

“Of course.”

“We need to know everything about your relationship with our mother,” Morgan said.

Brian started by telling them how he and Carla met when they got married and about Morgan and Charlie’s births. Then he paused for a moment. Morgan figured he must be gathering his thoughts.

“When Morgan and Charlie were toddlers,” he said, “I wanted Carla to be able to stay home with them, but we needed some extra money. I began betting on sports. I didn’t think it was a big deal.

At first, I made small bets, but I won most of the time, so we had more than enough to pay our bills.

As time went on, I got greedy. I didn’t want to just pay our bills, I wanted to buy other things that we couldn’t have afforded before.

I started making bigger bets and winning less and less.

Carla had no idea that I was maxing out all our credit cards and taking out new ones. ”

He went on to say that Carla had been busy with Morgan and Charlie, so she wasn’t aware of how in trouble they were until the bank left a message on their home machine that their account had been overdrawn. They owed thousands on their credit cards, and their bank account was depleted.

“I had to come clean about how much I owed to a loan shark, and Carla was rightfully upset. I promised I would stop gambling, but by then, I was a full-blown addict, and I couldn’t stop.

Your mother freaked out even more when the men who worked for the loan shark threatened her and you girls.

I assume that’s when she decided to take you and run. ”

Morgan looked at her sisters, her face filled with sadness and compassion. She knew what it was like to be an addict.

“I had gotten home from a business trip to find no one home and your closets empty. And then there was a knock on the door. I ran to it, thinking you were back, but instead, I got served with divorce papers. I was devastated. I couldn’t get out of bed for a week, and I almost lost my job.”

“Why didn’t you look for us?” Charlie asked.