A teacher and student who cannot become more than a teacher and student.
MORGAN
As I take Natalia to her weekly therapy appointment, I drive past the church Jennifer and I used to attend. The church we made new friends in. The church we’d planned on saying our vows in.
I clench my teeth at the thought of how everything here reminds me of her, which of course, I fucking hate. I grew up here. I met her here. We’d planned on making a life here together.
As far as I knew, we were happy. Besides drawing and painting, she was my life. We met during our first semester of college at Berkeley and right after graduation, I proposed. I continued on to graduate school, so we set the date for two years out.
A dog, a house, and a new job later, we had everything going for the next chapter in our lives. I couldn’t wait, and then I saw her naked on top of Ryan, moaning and screaming out his name.
The image of them together is burned into my memory, and every time I think I can move on, fear and doubt raise their ugly heads.
My very own brother betrayed me. My girlfriend of six years threw it all away.
Once I was done yelling and punching holes in the wall, I’d learned they’d been having an affair on and off for the past year. My mind was completely blown away. My heart—wrecked.
For five years, I’ve tried to get her out of my head. I’d fuck women until I’d tired of them. Drink until thoughts of her vanished from my mind. Sleep until I was too numb to care.
But it was never enough. No, the memory of that day still haunts me…
“I swear, Morgan, it’s not what you think.” Her eyes are red and swollen, her voice squeaky and barely audible for the frantic crying she’s been doing for the last hour.
“You must’ve lost all your damn brain cells from banging your head against the headboard as you were fucking another man if you think I’m buying any of your shit.”
“Morgan, please! Give me the chance to explain!” She grabs ahold of my shirt as I begin to walk away.
“There’s nothing to explain, Jen. It’s over…get out.” I jerk my arm out of her reach and stomp away.
“You can’t kick me out of my own house! We can work this out. I promise it’ll never happen again!” I glance at her as fresh tears roll down her cheeks, but I feel no sympathy for her. Nothing.
A bitter laugh rumbles up my throat as I hear her pathetic pleas. “Fine, I’ll move out then. In fact, fuck it. I’ll move out now.”
“No, don’t! Let’s just talk this out. Please!”
I lean down so we’re eye level, mere centimeters apart. “There’s nothing to talk about. You fucked around on me weeks before our wedding! I’m never touching you again,” I hiss.
The anger boils up inside me as I think about one of our last encounters. I packed a bag that night, left town, and didn’t look back.
Until six months ago that is.
That phone call changed everything.
“Do I really have to go tonight?” Natalia groans with a serious side of attitude, pulling me back to the present.
“Are you still causing trouble in school?” I raise a brow in her direction. She glares and rolls her eyes at me. “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s a waste of money.” She crosses her arms. “I basically just sit there.”
“Perhaps you could try talking then,” I mock. “Plus, it’s your money you’re wasting.”
I knew that’d grab her attention. She jerks her head back in my direction. “How so?”
“Your dad’s social security.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s what the government pays when a child is left behind from a death. He also had a retirement fund and pension from the Berkeley PD that you’ll get when you turn eighteen.”
She stays silent, turns her head back and stares out the window. “What if I don’t want it?”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean you don’t want it?”
“I don’t want his money,” she states matter-of-factly.
She hasn’t spoken much about Ryan up to this point, and I know her therapist hasn’t been very successful in getting much out of her, so I try to keep her going. “Why not?”
“Because I hate him.”
“Natalia, you don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“Why would you hate your dad?”
She faces me and frowns. “Because he left me. First my mother left and now he did. No one wants me.” I hear the sadness in her voice, which I can’t even blame her for, but thinking her parents chose to leave her isn’t something I can let her continue to believe.
“You can’t really think that. You know they wouldn’t have ever left you if they had the choice.”
She answers with a nonchalant shrug.
“Your parents loved you so much, Natalia, so much. I know you’re angry, but it only hurts because of how much you loved them.”
Her face softens, and I notice her eyes watering. “It hurts too much to think about loving them. So I would rather just be mad at them instead.”
Surprisingly, I know exactly how she feels. It’s a complicated feeling between grieving for someone you loved and grieving for a relationship you once had. The last time I spoke to Ryan, I was ready to smash his face into the pavement, but the biggest regret I have was not fixing our relationship before he passed away. Now it’s too late, and I’ll never have that closure. I’ll forever have to live with the guilt of my last hateful words to him.
“Go to hell, Ryan. Go to hell and take Jennifer with you. You two deserve each other.”
Remembering those last words to him pulls me back to that moment—a moment I’ll never forget. Ryan tried to get me to talk to him, tell me some bullshit on how it ‘just happened,’ but I was too pissed off to hear any of his excuses. It was over between Jennifer and me, but looking back, I should’ve mended things with him. Should’ve looked past it because we were family—brothers.
I was more than surprised to hear that he granted me guardianship of Natalia in his will. I hadn’t expected that at all.
“Natalia, I’m going to tell you something that I think you need to hear.”
“Okay,” she says softly, her eyes low and wet.
“I’m mad at your dad, too. I’m mad that he died. I’m mad that you lost both of your parents so early. I’m mad that we didn’t get to reunite before he passed away, but it brought me to you. So sometimes when I think about how angry I am, I just think about the positive things instead.”
“Like me?” Her eyelashes rise.
“Yes, like you.” I flash a genuine smile at her. “Even if you hate my cooking.”
“Well…you’ve been improving.”
“Or you’re just adapting.” I wink.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
I chuckle at her honesty.
We arrive at the therapist’s office and for the first time in months, Natalia isn’t pouting the entire time. In fact, Dr. Kingston said she actually answered some of her questions and even talked a little about her anger.
“I finally see some progress with Natalia. She’s opened up a little, but I think she still has a long ways to go. She may even backpedal a little before really coming to terms with what’s happened,” Dr. Kingston reports to me after her session.
“As I expect.” From how Natalia’s handling everything, I’d have to agree with Dr. Kingston.
She nods and leans down in front of Natalia. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Splendid.”
“Nat.” I flash her a warning look.
She shows off a toothy-fake grin. “See you then!” she says with an overly exaggerated sweet tone.
I walk her out and wrap my arm around her shoulders. I know she uses sarcasm and sassy remarks to hide what she’s really feeling, but I want her to know she can be real with me. Know that she can count on me.