Deliberately, she rose from the couch. As if in a trance, she slowly climbed the stairs, her hand and knee and finger throbbing in pain, but she deserved all of it, because she’d failed her son.
On the floor in Tommie’s room was the plastic garbage bag, the one she’d dragged around the house while searching for drugs. Beverly turned on the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed. Buried in it were the pill bottles she’d found in the bathroom, and she began digging through the sandy rodent killer, searching for what she needed.
She pulled the pill bottles out one by one and read the labels, dropping to the floor the ones she didn’t recognize. In time she found the Ambien, the vial more than half full. Dropping the bag, she left the room and went downstairs.
In the kitchen, she ignored the smell of burned chicken and the hamburger that was now spoiling. She ignored the mess and looked past the blood on the counter. Instead, she filled a glass of water from the faucet. Glancing out the window, she knew that Gary would be here soon, along with a host of law enforcement. But she didn’t care anymore about being arrested; she didn’t care about anything, for there was nothing left to care about and there was no way out.
Wandering back upstairs, she went to Tommie’s room and sat on the side of his bed. She dumped the pills from the bottle into her hand, then tossed them into her mouth, washing all of them down with water. She lay back, thinking that Tommie’s scent already seemed to have vanished completely. But it would be over soon, the sensation of finality ringing so loud that it muted everything she’d been feeling over the last few hours.
Closing her eyes, Beverly felt momentary relief.
Then she felt nothing at all.
I’d hoped Morgan and I could linger over breakfast, but she told me that she couldn’t because of rehearsal. Instead, she kissed me, then hopped into the shower, and after she threw on her sundress, I drove her back to the Don.
A family with children was standing in the hotel lobby, and I saw Morgan’s gaze flicker to them before she gave me a chaste kiss that left me longing for more. She’d invited me to come by the pool later to hang out with her and her friends, and though I wanted her all to myself, I accepted that it was their last week together, as well.
I did a shorter run than usual, stopping to pick up breakfast tacos from a stand. I ate them in the parking lot while still sweating, my mind on Morgan. She’d been quiet on the drive to the hotel, seemingly dazed, which I appreciated because I felt the same way. It wasn’t possible to fall in love so quickly, but somehow we had, and I think she needed some time to sort through it. I also suspected she wasn’t looking forward to the discussion that would inevitably arise with her friends. If she barely understood what had happened, then she probably assumed that her friends wouldn’t understand it, either.
As for me, I was also thinking about the fact that Morgan and I had only a few more days together, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d spend the next couple of hours coming to her senses and realize that she’d been mistaken about her feelings all along.
Sometime after we’d fallen asleep, the power had come on, so after I got back and showered, I took some time to clean up the condo. At the appointed hour, I drove to the Don and made my way to the pool deck. Morgan and her friends were already there, clad in colorful bikinis and soaking up the sun. The small table between the chairs was littered with tubes of sunscreen and a large bottle of water, along with leftover cups of green drinks. Thoughtfully, there was an empty chaise longue saved beside Morgan, topped with a couple of folded towels.
Holly was the first to see me, and she offered a quick hello; the others—even Morgan—waved nonchalantly, as though unaware that Morgan hadn’t returned to the hotel the night before. I thought about kissing Morgan but opted not to, in case it embarrassed her, and did my best to play it cool, even though the sight of Morgan in her bikini triggered tantalizing flashbacks. For a few minutes, no one said anything; for all intents and purposes, we could have been strangers who happened to be seated beside one another. Maybe I was wrong, I thought; perhaps Morgan and her friends hadn’t discussed the situation at all. Then Maria cleared her throat.
“So, Colby…how did your night go?” she asked.
As soon as she asked, they all started cackling. With the ice finally broken, I turned toward Morgan.
“Any regrets?” I said under my breath.
Morgan gave me a sunny smile. “None at all.”
Thankfully, none of them pressed either Morgan or me about the night before, though by their avoidance of the subject, I was reasonably sure that Morgan had spilled the beans about pretty much everything. Instead, the five of us spent the day chatting and occasionally jumping into the pool to cool off. We ordered snacks from the pool bar, and afterward Morgan and I went for a walk on the beach. I held her hand, thinking how it seemed to fit perfectly in my own.
By late afternoon, everyone was ready to call it quits. Morgan announced she needed a nap, and after hauling our used towels to the bin, I slipped back into my shirt and flip-flops. By then, Morgan had already put on her cover-up.
“Would you like to have dinner later?” I asked.
“What are you thinking?”
“How about a picnic on the beach?”
She took my face in her hands and kissed me gently. “That sounds perfect.”
We arranged to meet behind the hotel at half past seven, but like Morgan, I also needed a nap. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Surprisingly refreshed when the alarm went off, I showered and dressed before ordering two Greek salads from a restaurant down the block, one with added salmon and the other with grilled shrimp. On the way back to the Don, I also bought a bag of ice, along with more iced teas and bottled water.
Staking out a spot next to the dune to the side of the hotel, I spread out a sheet that I’d snagged from the condo. I had just opened a bottle of water when I caught sight of Morgan approaching. Rising, I met her with a hug and got her settled on a collapsible beach chair I’d brought along.
“What did you bring?” she asked. “I’m starved.”
I pulled the salads from the cooler, and after we finished, we used the dune as a backrest, snuggling in its shade. I put my arm around Morgan, and she curled into me as the sky began its slow and miraculous transformation. Blue faded to yellow; pink highlights cut long swaths toward the water as the sky turned orange and then finally red. As if on cue, the moon started to rise just as the sun was setting.
“I want you to do something for me tomorrow,” I finally said.
She rotated toward me. “Anything.”
I told her what I wanted, and though she didn’t answer, she didn’t reject my idea, either, which I took as a positive sign.
Afterward, we went back to my condo, already kissing and undressing on our way to the bedroom. We made love with tenderness and renewed urgency, and afterward, Morgan twined her limbs around me, her head resting on my chest. When she finally drifted off to sleep, I gently untangled myself and rose from the bed. Wrapped in a towel, I went to the living room, which was bathed in silvery moonlight streaming through the sliding glass doors.
As I stared at the moon rising above the trees, I thought about how much I loved Morgan and marveled at how different my own life seemed when viewed through the lens of these new feelings. Naturally, my thoughts turned to the fact that yet another day had passed and that Morgan would be leaving soon, and I wondered again what was going to become of us, dreading the idea that a decision was coming, one that might break my heart.
Back in the bedroom, I pressed my body against Morgan’s. Even in sleep, she sensed my presence and responded, her body curling into mine. I breathed in her scent, feeling complete, and though it took a while to fall asleep, I knew that after I finally drifted off, I would no doubt dream of her.
When we woke, Morgan persuaded me to join her and her friends on a visit to the Dalí Museum, an hour after they finished rehearsal.
We held hands as we toured the exhibits, which I’ll admit I found more interesting than I expected. Maria seemed quite knowledgeable about the artist and took time to explain why one painting or another was particularly important, and while most of what I saw wasn’t exactly my style, there were four or five that I kept returning to to study. They were strange but definitely thought-provoking.