The Past Is Present
"How big is the island?" Gray asked Zach, running across the deck to keep up with him.
"Big," Zach flung over his shoulder, not really listening.
"How many pounds?" Gray pressed, squeezing past a particularly plump passenger.
"That doesn't make any sense," Zach frowned, finally slowing down so Gray could catch up.
"Boys!" Cassandra snapped, grabbing Morgan's hand for the umpteenth time, ignoring her daughter's protests as she tried to pull herself free again. "We happen to be getting off the ferry now, just in case you haven't noticed, so that means actually concentrating on actually getting off the actual ferry."
The boys just ignored her, continuing to bicker as they went down the gangplank, the swell of the crowd propelling them on, Cassandra having to haul Morgan along, the little girl straining away from her, crashing into the legs of strangers as she did.
"Morgan, stop it!" Cassandra said through gritted teeth, the sweat now dripping down her face, almost blinding her.
"Why don't you stop it!" Morgan flung back, pulling away again, only to hit her head off somebody's knee. "Ow!" she protested, only to immediately do it again, making Cassandra reel her in like a fish for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Cass, did you know when this place first opened, they only had eight species!?" Gray said, galloping up to her, people parting to let him through. "Now they have fourteen herbivores and six carnivores!"
"How thrilling," Cassandra snapped, only to instantly regret it as his face fell. "God, I'm sorry, Gray," she said, hating herself. "I didn't mean that." But he just turned away from her, shoulders hunching.
"Hey, where's Aunt Claire?" Zach called over, his face anxious above the crowd. "I don't see her anywhere."
"She was supposed to be meeting us off the boat," Cassandra called back, cursing under her breath as somebody knocked into her from behind, making her stagger. But as she recovered her balance, Morgan suddenly broke free from her, her dark head disappearing out of sight amidst the throng in front. "Morgan!" she screamed, completely losing her head. "Morgan!"
"Cassandra Dearing?"
Cassandra whirled around on reflex, only to lose her balance again, the weight of her backpack causing her to keel over.
"Steady there"-
A hand gripped her arm, hauling her upright, the world suddenly the right way round again. Then the hand let go, Cassandra too distracted to notice, only to nearly collapse again with relief at seeing Zach striding towards her, carrying Morgan under his arm like a carpet, Gray trailing at his heels.
"Cassandra Dearing, right?"
Cassandra turned around again, only to find herself almost nose to nose with what appeared to be a pair of floating sunglasses. "Sorry, what?" she said dazedly, wiping her blurred eyes with the back of her hand. "Do – do I know you?"
The pair of floating sunglasses gave way to the striking face of a young dark-haired woman. "I asked if you were Cassandra Dearing," she repeated in a cut-glass English accent, holding up a wooden plaque of some kind.
"Y-e-s," Cassandra frowned, squinting at the words engraved on the wooden plaque. "What of it?"
The woman whipped off her sunglasses, revealing impatient indigo eyes. "I'm here to meet a Cassandra Dearing, Morgan Dearing, Zach Mitchell and Gray Mitchell," she reeled off. "I assume this is they?" she finished as Zach and the others drew level, faces confused.
"Why are our names etched on that?" Gray asked, pointing at the wooden plaque.
"Because it's classy," the woman said in disbelief, looking at him as if he was mad.
"Hold on," Cassandra said, shaking her head, trying to recover herself. "How did you know I'm Cassandra Dearing?"
"You were shouting 'Morgan'," the woman said, rolling her eyes, "I merely deduced you were she, as in she, Cassandra Dearing."
Cassandra just goggled at her, at a complete loss. As she faltered, a voice on the tannoy announced overhead: Welcome to Jurassic World, we hope you have a safe and enjoyable stay with us. "And?" Cassandra then managed to choke out, not sure where this conversation was going.
"I'm Claire's PA."
"Oh?"
"Claire couldn't make it," the woman explained, her words making Cassandra's heart sink, "so she sent me to meet you instead."
With an exaggerated sigh of relief, Cassandra dumped her backpack onto the king-size bed, making the mattress sag in the middle. The hotel's air conditioning system made her want to prostrate herself before it with gratitude, but she didn't think anyone would appreciate the display. A cold shower and dry clothes were other idylls she aspired to, but a quick glance around the room didn't show any sign of their suitcases.
The heat had soon reduced Zach and Morgan to the same state of mute exhaustion as Cassandra, Gray the only one to show any signs of animation during the monorail trip to the resort, tearing endlessly up and down the aisle, much to everyone else's annoyance. He had done the same on the escalators, Cassandra just letting him, enjoying pissing off Claire's prissy PA, deliberately feigning deafness when she asked Cassandra to control him.
"Claire has got you all VIP access," the PA said as she strutted through the door on impossibly high heels, Zach and Morgan following her as Gray tore around the room in circles, arms held wide like an aeroplane, "so you can get on all the rides without waiting in line."
"I'd much rather have our suitcases actually," Cassandra snapped, pushing the damp hair out of her face. "I thought they'd been sent ahead?"
"There's been a delay," the PA said coldly, "but rest assured, we are doing all we can to remedy the situation."
"What's the hold-up?" Gray frowned, slowing to a stop in front of the flatscreen television, becoming distracted by the dinosaur screensaver.
"Claire will be with you shortly," the PA said to Cassandra, ignoring him. "If you need anything in the meantime, please let me know."
Brow furrowing, Zach wandered over to a set of double doors, sliding them open with some difficulty, only to reveal a balcony overlooking the beautiful island vistas. "Wow," he said, impressed against his will.
"Look at me, look at me, look at me," Morgan chanted, taking a running leap onto one the twin beds before jumping from one to the other, navigating the gap inbetween with ease, the air-conditioning restoring her to full chaotic capacity. "Look at me, look at me, look at me!"
"Hey!" Zach complained, storming over. "That's my bed you're mucking up with your lousy Liesl impression!"
"Whee!" Morgan yelled, bouncing up and down, completely nonplussed.
"Hey," Cassandra observed as Zach caught Morgan mid-bounce, "at least you have a bed of your own. I have to share mine with that she-devil."
Muttering curses, Cassandra trailed after the PA and the others, the volcano-like structure of the Innovation Centre looming up ahead. The sun mercilessly beat down upon them, making Cassandra wish in vain again for their air conditioned hotel room, having had to be all but dragged out of it. She'd slathered herself and the kids in sunscreen, but she knew they would all be nursing sunburn the next day, the heat swiftly becoming Cassandra's number one enemy.
In a last ditch attempt to cool off, Cassandra had piled her hair up in a top-knot with a scrunchie hurriedly purchased from the gift shop, a livid velvet green thing patterned with black dinosaur silhouettes. She had then called Claire umpteen times, ready to give her a piece of her mind, but as usual, it had gone straight to voicemail, Cassandra having to satisfy herself by sending a cryptic text to Karen saying 'TOLD YOU SO.'
"I want my own room," Zach said for the umpteenth time as they reached the stairs, "and that's that."
"You can't," the PA said impatiently over her shoulder, "the hotel is fully booked."
"Listen, woman," Zach retorted, "I'm not bunking up with some psychopathic trampolining midget."
"Are you talking about me?" Morgan said, brow furrowing.
"Yeah, I'm talking about you," Zach said, rounding on her. "Who else? Debussy?"
"De-bus-say?" Morgan frowned further. "Is that a Pokémon?"
"God, you're so ignorant," Zach sighed, making to put his headphones back on.
"Butt out, Zach," Cassandra snapped, making him freeze, "she's only a stupid little kid - like you actually, come to think of it."
Zach's face flushed. "Why don't you butt out?" he retorted, jabbing his finger at her, suddenly looking alarmingly like Scott, who had struck a similar attitude with Cassandra on occasion. "You're always running off your mouth whether we want to hear it or not!"
Cassandra stared at him, startled. "You know, I think this is the most I've ever heard you speak," she then flung back, recovering herself. "Must be something in the Jurassic air, huh?"-
- "Jesus, no wonder Morgan's dad fucked off, man!"
Everybody stared at Zach, who also looked shocked at himself, hand flying to his mouth. The PA's face went an unbecoming puce, whilst Gray and Morgan were wide-eyed, their heads turning in unison in Cassandra's direction, waiting for the shit to hit the fan, Cassandra just standing there, rooted to the spot.
The PA then tossed her dark hair back, recovering herself. "Come along, children," she said briskly, taking charge, "the Innovation Centre boasts many interactive exhibits I am sure you will enjoy and also find educational." She ushered them on, practically shoving Zach up the stairs, not sparing Cassandra a backwards glance as she followed the children inside.
Cassandra let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Gripping the stair rail for support, she then leaned on it, the shock of Zach's words still hitting her. She had never told her family about Morgan's father, leaving them to make their own assumptions, nobody ever raising the subject. But all along, they'd been talking behind her back, and this was the conclusion they had reached; that whoever he was, Cassandra had driven him off.
Mind reeling, her thoughts flew unbidden to the sketchbook back home that she kept locked up in a small safe hidden behind a naïve painting of a sea landscape picked up at a yard sale. It contained various sketches of Morgan's father painfully culled from memory, Cassandra creating a hollow construct to cling onto. The sketches were unsure likenesses, faint echoes of a fairy tale she'd spun to save herself, but they served to keep alive the memory of the curve of his mouth as he'd kissed her and everything that had come after.
Deep down, she knew she was deluding herself; that if things had been different; if she had been able to track him down, he would have been happy to find out he was going to be a father. Men like him didn't hang around to play happy families. He had just been a player out for willing prey, still a sailor at heart with a girl in every port.
Morgan had only ever asked once where her father was, the question spurred by short-lived curiosity, Cassandra answering her honestly, saying she didn't know and that he'd gone away before he knew about Morgan. What worried Cassandra had been Morgan's ensuing silence on the subject, the little girl internalising everything, Cassandra never knowing half the time what was going on in her daughter's head.
But last summer, Cassandra had unexpectedly gained a window into Morgan's inner world, allowing her to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. Morgan possessed a large carved wooden box that had been made by Cassandra's father, who had died a few years before Morgan had been born, her grandmother gifting it to Morgan on her fifth birthday. In it she kept her various treasures, brittle autumn leaves from the garden; shells from the beach; a robin's skull, delicate in its destruction; a signed picture of her beloved Liesl from The Sound of Music that Karen had sent her, her aunt purchasing it from eBay, even as Karen secretly hadn't been sure whether it was genuine or not.
Cassandra had been cleaning under Morgan's bed when she'd found the wooden box hidden away right at the back, surprising her since Morgan usually kept it close to hand and out in the open. She had opened it, worried Morgan was concealing something she shouldn't have, Morgan already having been caught trying to keep spiders in a shoebox at the back of her wardrobe, the discovery forcing Morgan to admit her intentions of raising a spider army to conquer the world or at least the local neighbourhood.
Inside the wooden box were a bundle of papers, the bulk comprising of a number of folded up drawings depicting the same theme of stick figure Morgans holding hands with stick figure men, with the words me an my dadda painfully printed underneath. There had also been various handmade Father's Day and Christmas cards spanning the years, the sight making Cassandra break down and cry. But in the end, she'd put the box and its contents back where she'd found them, realising she was more like her daughter than she knew.
And why
I think about you
More than I think one should…