Chapter 9 - The Aftermath
July 10th (Summer)
I woke up feeling like my head was being squished by a truck tire. The persistent headache that ran across my entire forehead throbbed with every beat of my pulse. My throat felt like I had swallowed cotton, and I was simultaneously too hot and too cold to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep.
Golden was lying on the cat bed that I had bought for her. She rarely used it; she preferred to sleep in bed with me but perhaps my alcohol-soaked stench or my unresponsiveness scared her away. Whatever the case was, she looked at me with reproachful eyes and flicked her tail over her nose and went back to sleep.
I groaned as I rolled onto my side. I didn't drink enough to fully black out but piecing together the memories was a bit difficult. I remembered Elliot walking me home, and I remember telling him about Brandon and the picture that Abigail took, and ..."
Oh Yoba.
All of the apologies that I issued to him echoed in my mind like a broken record. I couldn't believe how pathetic I sounded. He didn't need to know about my baggage and my issues with Brandon, and yet I spilled my heart out like some mopey teenage girl.
I tried to sit up, which was a feat in and of itself, and then I saw the glass of water and the bottle of aspirin on my nightstand.
There was a note next to it written in loopy scrawl that said: I'm sorry that you had such a bad time last night. I hope you're feeling better, but knowing how whisky works, you'll probably be hurting for a while. If you need to blow off more steam, you know where to find me. See you for dinner tonight (if you feel up to it...there's no pressure). I'm thinking around 6 pm? Yours truly, Elliot.
I blinked my eyes and ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth. The sticky aftertaste of soda and the raw alcohol taste from the whisky remained which made my head throb once more. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to lay still in the darkness but I couldn't go back to sleep.
"Dammit." I grumbled and I propped myself up onto my elbows and then onto my hands.
The room spun and I closed one eye hoping that would do something to make it stop. It didn't. My body felt uncomfortably hot but but stomach was painfully empty. Aside for my modest breakfast yesterday morning, the coffee at the diner, and the cocktails, I hadn't had much to eat. Now I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to keep anything down.
I tried to keep my movements slow and I reminded myself to breathe. Drinking some of the water helped wash away the terrible aftertaste, and taking the aspirin gave me hope that I wouldn't always feel like death warmed over. I finished the entire glass of water, burped rather undignifiedly, and trudged through the cabin to the shower.
My entire morning routine took twice as long as it normally did, partly because I was moving at half speed out of necessity to not puke again and partly because my mind was elsewhere.
I knew I had to confront Abigail about the picture, but Abigail and I didn't have a strong history. She was a young toddler when I came to visit my Grandpa. Even during the last summer that I was here, Abigail couldn't have been six or seven years old. Even though she was seventeen now, I couldn't see her as anything other than a kid.
I tried to think of how my Grandpa would've handled the situation. He didn't become loved by the community without some effort. But then again, he probably wouldn't have been making out with my Grandma in-between the library's book stacks. By the time I got dressed and began the two mile walk to town, I hadn't gotten any closer to figuring out what I was going to say.
I got to Pierre's shop a half an hour after it had opened. The bell over the door chimed when I went in and I could feel my heartbeat fluttering as I tried to figure out what I was going to say to his daughter.
Pierre was marking down yesterday's receipts into a large ledger book. His blue eyes peered over glasses that were slipping towards the middle of his nose, and I could hear the faint scratching of his pencil as he wrote.
I waited patiently for him to be done and my eyes scanned over the fresh produce bins that sat off to the left of his register.
Most of the vegetables came from Marnie's farm and the town's small garden. Occasionally, Pierre would get a shipment of produce from farms outside of Pelican Town but the produce was often more expensive and less ripe as it had to endure long travel. Joja always boasted that their produce was the 'freshest guaranteed' but then again Joja did own several large cooperate farms in the area. Sure the produce was cheap, but it didn't taste the same as the food that came out of Pierre's shop.
Pierre cleared his throat to get my attention and shot me a warm, friendly smile.
"Good morning Morgan. What can I do for you today?"
"I ... Uh." I stammered. "I was actually wondering if Abigail was here. I need to talk to her."
"She is probably in her room. I can go get her if you'd like. What is this about?"
I bit my lip. If I told the truth, I knew that I might get Abigail into trouble. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. What if she never intended to post the picture? What if this was all a huge misunderstanding? I had to at least give her a chance.
"I was looking for advice on buying a new cell phone. I have the old flip phone that you could run over with a truck and I think its time for an upgrade. I'm useless with new technology and figured that if anyone would know, it would be Abigail." I lied.
Pierre pursed his thin lips in thought. "To be honest, you'd be better off asking Sebastian. He's our computer expert around here. He's working on coding a website for us so we can eventually fill orders online."
I smiled politely hoping my impatience didn't sour my ruse, "Yeah I would've asked Sebastian, but I can never find him when he's free. Besides, I don't think this is something to bother him with when he's on the clock, so to speak."
That was at least partially the truth. I had only seen Sebastian twice since moving to Pelican Town and he was quiet as he was elusive.
"Well let me just check back in the house and see if Abigail's there. Would you wait here a moment?"
I nodded and browsed through some shelves while I waited. I saw a small display of CDs near the upright cooler that was tucked in the corner of the store. The CD cases had a crazy tie-dye swirl background and a photoshopped image of Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian rocking out. The album title Memories of Yesteryear stood out in large, white block lettering.
I snickered at the title. It was a little to New Age for my taste, but I couldn't fault them for starting a band. I have no musical talent so people who do automatically gain some respect in my book.
Together, the three looked like legitimate musicians; Sam's normally happy face was scrunched up in a thoughtful, brooding look that only teenagers could really perfect. The eldest of the group, Sebastian, looked naturally cool. A cigarette hung from his lips and his purple-black hair was slicked back and spiked. But Abigail was probably the edgiest of them all with her black knee-high boots, tight purple skirt, and skull and bones white tank top. Gold hoop earrings hung from her ears and several of her fingers had rings of different designs and colors. One ring was just a ball full of spikes.
As I was about to turn around, a light soprano voice said "Were you looking for a signed copy?"
Abigail stood before me with a pale hand on her hip. Her thick and long purple hair was brushed up into a messy ponytail, and she was wearing the same tight purple skirt from the album. Her top was just a simple black graphic t-shirt.
"Hey Abigail." I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was hoping I could talk to you. Do you got a sec?"
She shrugged. I have to run up to Sebastian's to give him our latest song to mix. You can walk with me if you want.
I nodded mutely. My assessment of Abigail still being a child to me was completely blown out of the water. The woman before me exuded a badass rocker attitude that I was sort of jealous of. She was so sure of herself that confronting her about the picture seemed impossible. At first, I was afraid that I'd hurt her feelings by being blunt, but now I was more afraid that she'd beat me up like some school bully.
I followed Abigail out of her father's shop, waving good-bye to Pierre before we left, and I kept pace with her as we walked up the road which lead to the mountain.
"So Dad says you wanted to ask me about phones?" She asked with an impatient edge in her tone. As she said that, she took out her own cell phone and began texting someone in ernest.
It was now or never I guess.
"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about a picture you took with your phone." I said. I was treading on dangerous ice here and I needed to handle this more delicately than I did my conversation with Brandon.
"You'll have to be more specific. I take tons of pictures with my phone." Abigail replied. "And I don't remember you following me on my social media accounts."
"I didn't." I replied quickly. "But ... my ex-boyfriend does. And he saw the picture you took of Elliot and I at the library."
Abigail thought for a moment and then grinned. "Oh yeah! You two had no idea I was even there, you were so into each other."
I sighed, "Yeah that's the problem Abigail. If we knew you were there, we wouldn't have kissed. You took that picture of us and put it on social media where my ex saw it. He didn't handle it well and I just want you to take it down."
Now she grew serious. "Yikes. I'm sorry. I - I didn't mean to have your ex give you grief over it. I thought it was a nice picture of you two, actually. That's why I posted it. See?"
Abigail navigated to the picture in question and I saw that we were part of a group entitled "Caught in the Act."
"What is that?" I asked.
"The group? Oh it's something I joined a couple months ago. They post pictures of people engaged in PDA. Some of the pictures are really explicit - like they're almost naked and stuff. I once saw a picture of a girl giving a guy a blowjob on the street. But the majority of the pictures are really sweet, like yours."
When she clicked on the picture to go full screen, I was caught off guard by how Elliot and I looked. The kiss I felt - the reluctance, the regret, and the fearful passion - was not what it looked like on camera.
Elliot's eyes were closed but his eyebrows were frowning in concentration. His large hands were tenderly holding my face and the nape of my neck as his hard body pushed into mine. Likewise, my hands clutched at the back of his t-shirt and my slightly sunburned face was blushing red. I accepted Elliot's body and my back was bent slightly to allow him to fully hold onto me. The satisfaction on my face was palatable.
"Oh..." I murmured.
"Yeah." Abigail agreed. "I didn't mean to snoop or anything but I heard you guys talking and when I parted the books to look to see who it was, I saw you two like this. Morgan! Love like this has to be shared! There's so much bullshit in the world. The group I'm in tries to spread pictures like this to offset all the shit we hear in the news about the Grotto Empire."
I was caught off guard by her passion. "The idea is really sweet Abigail, but you kind of invaded our privacy." I said.
Now she frowned. "I'm sorry, honestly I didn't mean to hurt you. I just saw you two together and thought it was really sweet. I figured taking a picture of you two together was more appropriate than catching Marnie and Mayor Lewis together."
"Wait, what? Marnie and Mayor Lewis?"
"Yeah. They've been secretly dating for almost a year and a half. They think nobody notices because we don't say anything, but it's super obvious." She said, once again distracted by her phone.
I couldn't wrap my head around that right now so I tried to focus on the task at hand. "Abigail, can you promise to not sneak around and take anymore pictures of Elliot and I. We're friends. That's all."
"Uh huh. Sure." She replied skeptically.
"What d'you mean?" I snapped.
She gestured vaguely at me. "I mean, I'll stop taking pictures of you, but can you really not see how Elliot looks at you? I once saw him almost trip into the fountain in the center of town because he saw you leaving Gus's Saloon after dinner. I wish someone looked at me like he looks at you."
I rubbed my hands over my face feeling the sweat that accumulated there and wiped my damp hands on my shorts. "Well ... I just ... I ... Can you just delete the picture please?"
Blush colored my cheeks and I knew Abigail could tell. Still, she navigated to the image in question and clicked on the trashcan icon. "There. It's done."
"Thank you." I replied.
Abigail looked at me in the eyes and the child that I thought would be there peaked through. "Are you going to tell my dad? If he knows that I'm part of this group, he'll literally freak. He gets so over protective of me, it's insane."
"No I wont tell him." I replied. "But you have to promise me that you're done with snooping around. I don't want to see other Pelican Town residents on that silly group even if it is meant to spread love."
"Deal." She replied and extended her hand to me.
I shook it. My tanned skin contrasted against her milky complexion. I could feel the callouses on her fingers from playing instruments.
"Hey, you should stop by Gus's next weekend. Our band is playing at the saloon. It could be a date night for you and Elliot." Abigail suggested. "He and Leah went together when we played there over Christmas."
"Leah?" I asked. I couldn't keep the jealousy from my voice. I conjured a vague image of her in my mind but I didn't really recognize her amid the other faces of new and old memories. "Is she the woman who lives just south of Marnie's farm?"
"Yep." Abigail replied. "She's an artist. A sculptor actually and she helped Elliot get set up in his place when he moved here last fall."
"Oh."
Suddenly my jealous mind whispered into my ear a dark suspicion. Maybe Elliot's previous relationship debacle wasn't the true reason why he didn't want to get involved with me. Maybe he was trying to let me down easy because he was in love with someone else. After all, an artist and a writer seemed like a natural match.
"Morgan don't worry." Abigail said, interrupting my jealousy spiral. "Elliot and Leah are just friends.
"Cool." My voice sounded hollow but I forced a smile. "You can't have too many friends these days, I guess."
"You should meet her. I think you'd like her." Abigail replied. "You definitely seem her type if the whole Elliot thing doesn't work out."
I puzzled over what she meant by that as she made her way up the hill. Her purple ponytail swayed with each step and I watched her until she crested the hill and went out of sight.
That evening, I knocked on Elliot's door at a quarter to six with a casserole dish.
Elliot opened the door and was wearing an apron over a plain navy blue t-shirt. His jacket was hanging up on a coat rack near the door, and his hair was swept back into a low ponytail.
"Morgan! I'm glad to see you." He said and welcomed me inside. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay." I replied a bit sheepishly. "My headache finally went away at around three this afternoon, and I've been feeling progressively better but I still feel ... off."
Elliot nodded sympathetically and took the casserole dish from me and placed it on the countertop.
"By the way, thank you for taking such good care of me last night and for walking me home. I'm just sorry that you had to see ... all of that."
Elliot shook his head. "Not at all. Honestly, it's alright. We all overindulge from time to time. Remember, I did bartend for a bit back in Zuzu City, and I've seen my share of drunk people. It sounded like you needed to vent."
"Yeah." I replied. I didn't really want to drudge memories of our conversation from last night so I tried to change the subject.
I nodded and gestured at the dish, "I wasn't sure what we were having so I made us some baked green beans, potatoes, and mushrooms. It was my Grandpa's recipe."
"Splendid, that dish will go well with the halibut that Willy gave me." He replied. "While the fish bakes, would you care to sit outside? The cabin gets awfully stifling during the summer afternoons. I've opened all the windows, but it wont cool down until evening."
When Elliot removed the apron and draped out over the chair, I noticed thin lines of sweat running down his neck and forearms. His face looked flushed and tiny hairs near his forehead curled up in the humidity.
"Sure. The ocean breeze will feel pretty nice." I replied hoping my voice didn't betray the heat pooling in my stomach "I'm pretty sweated too."
"I just put the fish in and it will need to bake for about twenty minutes, so would you like something to drink while we wait? I have iced tea, water, coffee, and wine."
My stomach churned at the thought of more alcohol and Elliot chuckled at my grimace, "I'm guessing the wine is a no."
I nodded. "Iced tea sounds wonderful though."
Elliot filled two tall glasses full of ice and poured the amber liquid into the plain glasses. The ice clinked deliciously and he garnished each glass with a finely cut lemon wedge.
"I helped Willy build some wooden chairs and a couple picnic tables for the luau last week. There's a couple chairs that he left behind that we can sit in." He said as he handed me a glass.
Elliot held the door open for me and we walked out onto the grassy area that met the edge of the beech. He let the door swing shut just enough so he could still hear the oven's timer. There were two heavy wooden chairs sitting to the left of his cabin. Elliot took one and I carefully lowered myself into the other so I wouldn't spill my drink.
I sighed contentedly once I settled in. The cool ocean breeze ran through my hair and over my body drying the sweat that glistened on my skin. I closed my eyes and listened to the ocean waves beating against the shore.
"It's beautiful out here." I murmured. "The sound of the waves alone could put me to sleep."
"Yes it is." Elliot agreed. "The winter was pretty brutal, but its moments like this remind me that moving out of the city was the right choice."
"Do you ever regret it?" I asked and then immediately regretted it. "I - I mean, do you ever miss the city?"
"I miss the passion I guess." He replied thoughtfully. "Living in the city always brought out a rather manic side in myself. Everything was faster, bigger, and more intense, which was fun, but I didn't like the person I was. Living out here and with these people seems more genuine. I feel more authentic to who I really am. Sometimes I miss the lights and the excitement of the city, but then I look out my window and I see this -" he gestured at the sea - "and I know that I would do everything I could to not go back."
I nodded. "My Grandpa once said that city people were just country people who hadn't found their way home yet. When I think back to where I was only four months ago, I think he might've been right."
Elliot's warm hand gently clasped over my forearm. I'm sure he meant for the touch to be innocuous, but my heart still jumped up into my throat. I opened my eyes and saw the complete sincerity reflected in his.
"You were made for this town Morgan. The work you're doing on your farm, the way the town talks about you, it just shows that there's nothing in this world that you should be doing differently."
I rolled my eyes, "You make it sound like this was my destiny or something. Like the prodigal granddaughter has returned and now the entire town can finally be whole."
He shrugged and removed his hand from my arm. I felt the loss immediately.
"The work you've done on your farm is impressive Morgan, don't discount yourself. I can barely keep a flower alive in a vase, let alone produce food from the ground. I'm sure your Grandfather would be proud."
I blushed at the compliment and took a long drink from my iced tea so I had an excuse to do something with my hands.
Seagulls floated on the breeze and lazily swooped above the ocean's surface to catch small baitfish. Small crustaceans milled through the sand and around the sea shells that littered the damp beach leaving small footprints behind. I thought I saw a fin of a dolphin or a shark emerge out in the distance, but a large breaking wave curled around the creature and it disappeared out of sight.
I glanced over at Elliot; he seemed mesmerized by the sea like I was but his lips moved silently like he was whispering a prayer. Pure serenity on his face made him look more like a young boy than the man that he was and I felt like I was intruding on a private moment. When he saw me watching him, I saw a faint flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. He ran his left hand through his hair and looked down at his knees.
He chuckled, "I'm sorry. The ocean's muse pulled me out to sea for a moment there. Normally I'm a better conversationalist."
"I'm sorry for intruding." I replied. "Were you praying or something?"
"Praying? Oh, no. I was reciting a sonnet that came into my head." He said. "Living out here tends to excite the muses in me. What?!"
He noticed my grin and gave me a reproachful look.
"I just - I -" I sputtered trying to find the right words. "If my destiny is to run my Grandpa's farm, then your destiny is definitely to become a poet laureate or something. You may not have a green thumb, but I'm about as creative as a burlap sack."
I paused and angled my body in the chair so I faced him. "I've never met anyone like you."
The intensity held in our gaze seemed to buzz with an ancient energy.
Elliot's voice seemed to drop an octave and take on a husky quality, "I guess that's what makes us such natural friends. We compliment one another."
"Yeah." I replied failing to keep the sadness out of my voice. "I guess thats it."
A beeping from inside the cabin broke through the tension and Elliot rose gracefully out of his chair.
"Come. Our feast awaits." Elliot said and offered me his hand to help me out of the low wooden beach chair.
We walked back into his cabin as the sun was dipping below Willy's ocean shack. The smell of baked fish, lemon, and my roasted vegetables made my stomach rumble in anticipation.
Our conversations meandered lazily from topic to topic as we ate. I talked about the work I was doing on the farm and recounted a story of losing a nice two pound largemouth bass up by Robin's house. He pulled out a draft of his novel and read parts of it aloud to me. The writing was still flowery but the characters seemed more alive and relatable in this second version, and less like the caricatures of a Jane Austen era novel.
Elliot beamed when I told him that.
By the end of the night, my jaw was sore from laughing and smiling at Elliot's witty and exuberant nature. I had talked more to Elliot about my Grandfather, my mother, and my past visits of Pelican Town, than I had ever talked to Brandon in our entire relationship. It was refreshing, almost revitalizing, after the disaster yesterday.
As dusk finally settled and the cabin became shrouded in darkness, Elliot walked me to the door and handed me my empty but washed casserole dish.
"Thank you for coming over Morgan. It's nice to be around a kindred spirit." He replied.
I nodded and I went to hug him. His pine and salt scent enveloped me like a pleasant memory and I lingered in his arms long enough to feel his warm lips press against my hairline.
"Goodnight Morgan." He murmured.
"Goodnight." I replied and I broke away from him.
As I walked back to my farm, I clutched my casserole dish to my chest like a swooning school girl. Maybe my jealous mind was wrong. Maybe a writer and a farmer could be a good match after all.
Author's Note:
The sonnet in question is by Samuel Daniel (1562-1619)
Reading Delia: Sonnet 1
Unto the boundless Ocean of thy beauty
Runs this poor river, charged with streams of zeal:
Returning thee the tribute of my duty,
Which here my love, my youth, my plaints reveal.
Here I unclasp the book of my charged soul,
Where I have cast th'accounts of all my care:
Here have I summed my sighs, here I enroll
How they were spent for thee; look what they are.
Look on the dear expenses of my youth,
And see how just I reckon with thine eyes:
Examine well thy beauty with my truth,
And cross my cares ere greater sum arise.
Read it sweet maid, though it be done but slightly;
Who can show all his love, doth love but light
