I'm back! Finally done exams as of yesterday so I wrote this last night, enjoy!

XIII

Reaching a slightly happier point in my relationship with my mother somehow made my life just have the tiniest bit of stress lifted from it. When I was at school, I was constantly overly self-aware, or feeling like I was going to die from all the stress that the prospect of being in the same room as twenty-nine other people my age brought on. Typically, when I got home, I didn't get a chance to let my stress go, as there was always something going on with my mother and I that required some sort of argument or situation where I always had to be on my toes. Since we had experienced that exceptionally short, yet beneficial, bonding moment, the disagreements had significantly diminished. We actually got along well sometimes; we weren't best friends like some of the other girls my age were with their moms, but it was a big step from the way it had been. Of course, I still wasn't confiding in her with the daily problems that I always made much more melodramatic than necessary, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, regardless of how much closer we had gotten.

The relationship with my father was still extremely rocky, obviously, and neither he nor I had an intention in changing that. Or, maybe he did, but his efforts were lousy, and trying to tell whether or not he cared was exhausting. I still had to suffer through the occasional phone call with him, and I think suffer is a major understatement, but other than that, I was avoiding contact at all costs. Catherine was still the only person in Vegas I had an interest in communicating with. I always wished I could go and visit her without seeing my father at all, but that was most definitely just wishful thinking. Thankfully, the Spring Break visit had not been rescheduled; that was probably partly because my mother was appreciative of the fact that I hadn't been so difficult lately, so she wasn't desperate to get rid of me for a while.

I had also made up quite easily with my friends since the brief incident regarding the party. Unlike me, they didn't take everything so seriously and regard every little situation as a major deal, so I really had overreacted. That was always very common for me; even when I realized I was overthinking or blowing things out of proportion, I couldn't help myself. My mom was the same way, and even though I couldn't stand when anyone compared the two of us, it was true in this situation, and probably part of why we fought so much. Thankfully, my friends were absolutely nothing like that; they had almost acted like the incident had never happened. We had just gone back to normal, which was something that rarely happened to me, so I was very appreciative.

The second semester of my sophomore year was ever so slowly coming to a close, and most nights I found myself swamped with homework. I was a good student, for the most part, but was slowly morphing into more and more of a perfectionist. I found myself doing homework or studying for much longer than I needed to sometimes. This was partly wanting to do as well as I possibly could manage, but also because sometimes I just needed to take a break from actual people and focus on doing a set of somewhat pointless math problems for a half hour or so. It gave me a thing that could completely distract from whatever else had been occupying my thoughts during the day, and sometimes that was exactly what I needed.

On one of the nights I was doing said math problems, I had been playing my music at a decent volume level through my computer, quietly singing along while I tried to focus on the equations sitting in front of me at the same time. My parents had just gotten back from dinner; I had been invited but had declined in an attempt to give myself some alone time.

Over my music, I could hear voices, but I ignored it as I often did, despite the unusually loud volume. The talking, or yelling from what it sounded like, persisted, so I turned the music off and attempted to listen in. This was partly worry, partly eavesdropping; I couldn't resist an opportunity to be nosy. The shouting I heard was actually wildly out of character for my mom and soon to be step-dad, despite the fact my mother was pretty much a professional at shouting matches after spending however many years it was with my dad. This gave me an ounce of concern, but I remained where I was. Being pretty familiar with the role of the daughter who was expected to take sides, I knew that going downstairs was lacking any sort of benefit for me. For the two people arguing downstairs, I may have acted as a good buffer at the time, but I wasn't a fan of the role.

After the fighting had continued for several minutes, or so it seemed, I suddenly realized that I had neglected to assume my usual position of hiding under blankets so I couldn't hear. I think that this time, I felt a bit of concern, as this was a brand new occurrence ever since the divorce. It was probably nothing; I had learned that from previous experience, but that didn't make it any less out of the ordinary. I did briefly consider sticking my head outside the door to make sure that there wasn't actually a murderer or something downstairs, but then I realized that it really was in my best interests to stay put, murderer or not.

Eventually, the noise subsided, or at least some of it, and I heard the front door shut rather forcefully. Listening for any sign of anyone being left in the house besides me, I managed to hear some footsteps, and I assumed it was my mother. Immediately, I felt bad; this kind of thing hadn't happened in a while, so the return of a heated argument probably stung more than usual. It wasn't like me to go downstairs and talk to her, even if it was just to take her mind off of what had happened, but despite that, I was going.

"Mom?" I said, cautiously stepping down the carpeted steps.

"Not now, Morgan, I can help you later," she said, defeated. Typically, a response of that nature would have upset me to no end, and it still did a little bit, but I let it slide. At least she would have been willing to help me with homework later; a few months earlier, I bet the offer wouldn't have been present at all.

"That's not what I was going to ask," I said pointedly. She looked up from her spot on the couch, and I offered only the tiniest of sympathetic glances. "What happened?" I asked, already regretting my question. In the past, I had been the least helpful person in the world when it came to venting about various issues, and I was fully aware of that fact.

"It's nothing, Morg, don't worry about it," she responded as I took a seat next to her. I fiddled with the sleeve of my shirt, pretending that counting the pink stripes and the white stripes was far more important. I wanted to be able to press the issue, I really did, but it probably wasn't going to happen.

"Where did Jerry go?" I asked, internally flinching as I waited for an outburst of a response. She looked at me in the same way I often looked at her when she asked questions I had no desire to answer.

"I don't know," she said, annoyed. Much like me, she was completely unsure of what to do with her hands, so she settled on wringing them carefully, as if she didn't want me to notice.

"Oh. Um, so, is everything okay?" I continued awkwardly, despite the fact that we were both completely content with ending the conversation there, or so it seemed.

"Not really. You know, after your dad left, I thought I would be rid of all of this," she said, and I thought she might elaborate, but unfortunately I had no such luck. I would've been good at just sitting there trying to make sense of whatever nonsense she could have been rambling about, but instead I had to actually contribute to the conversation. The conversation stilled for a moment while I tried to come up with something of substance to mention. Comforting words were not exactly my strong suit, especially when it came to talking to my parents. Their attempts at comforting me were often misguided, and I often followed in their footsteps.

"I never thought he would actually leave," I said quietly, almost wishing I had just stayed silent. To my knowledge, my mom and I had never had much of a proper conversation about my father leaving. It felt unbelievably unnatural.

"You know what?" she said, a slight edge to her voice. I looked at her, wondering what kind of reaction my statement had provoked. "I never thought so either." We both paused, even though she was just waiting for me to respond, while I was at my usual loss for words. All of a sudden, almost at the drop of a hat, I felt my eyes overflow with tears.

"I don't want that to happen again," I said tearfully, visibly angry at myself for crying. My mother probably thought I was some emotionally unstable basket case with how I had been acting lately.

"Hey, Morgan, it's okay, it's not going to happen again. I promise," she replied, giving me a half-hearted hug. It was rather selfish of me to be suddenly emotional over something that affected me so minimally compared to everyone else.

"You don't know that," I retorted quickly, then immediately feeling guilty for saying so.

"Honey, you're not being all that consoling," my mom laughed, even though she didn't sound particularly overjoyed.

"Sorry, I'm not thinking," I explained quietly, quickly wiping my eyes and trying to forget what had happened. "You know, Jerry is a whole lot different from dad, and I know he wouldn't just get up and leave."

"Like you said, Morgan, you don't know that." I winced at her comment, completely regretting my earlier remark. "I know it was just a pointless argument, but that's how it always starts."

Even though I found it weird that my mother was actually engaged to someone else in what was such a seemingly short time after the separation from my dad, it didn't mean I didn't support her new relationship. I wasn't heartless; I wanted her to be happy, and as a bonus, I got along with Jerry as well. If he left, it would have gone back to the dreary, angst filled stage that had been present mere months before. When it was just my mom and I, the amount of stress and strain it put on the two of us was far from enjoyable for anyone. I was actually content with the way my family, minus the portion from Vegas, was operating, and I didn't want to lose that.

"It's not going to be like that. I shouldn't have said anything. It's going to be fine, alright? It was one thing that happened and it really didn't sound that bad," I said in a rushed manner. In absolutely no way did I find myself sounding convincing, so I'm assuming it didn't transfer well.

"You already said what we were both thinking, Morgan. We don't know, okay? There's nothing you can say that will change the outcome," my mother said, sounding more miffed at me than anything. I sighed subtly.

"Stop it," I said abruptly. At that, we shared a moment of having no clue where I was taking this. "Just don't make an assumption based on what's happened before. I know you're scared, and I am, too, which is weird. But, it's going to be fine. And even if something bad happens, it's not going to be the end of the world. We've gotten through it once, so we can do it again, right? Nothing is going to come of this, though. Jerry loves you, so it's different. You can't tell me you know what's going to happen, because you really have no idea, which is scary, yeah, but that's just how it works." I finally looked up from the ground, which had been my point of focus during my entire small speech. My mother, being the sappy, emotional being that I never would be, had tears in her eyes, which almost made me want to take everything I had said back.

"You're right. That was so lovely of you to say, Morgan. I never hear stuff like that from you," she said tearfully, once again hugging me. I almost felt like squirming away, but I continued my act of lovely, supporting daughter and didn't.

"I better go finish my homework," I said suddenly, not wanting to succumb to emotions for the second time in a rather short time span.

"Alright," my mother replied, almost confused at how quickly I had turned back into my reclusive self. I hurried back upstairs, shutting the door to my room behind me. I went straight back to my math homework, but after several long minutes, I couldn't muster up the ability to focus that more often than not just came naturally.

It had to be weird that my mom and Jerry's fight had shaken me up so much, right? Or maybe it wasn't; I, much like my mother, was assuming the worst and letting the smallest of things get to me. I seldom cared about these things, or at least I pretended I didn't, so outwardly feeling sympathetic and even upset was a change of pace.

I stuck my head outside the door and took a few quiet steps down the stairs until the spot on the couch where my mother was sitting came into full view. She was still sitting in the same position, but crying instead of being strong for me and keeping it to herself. It was almost scary how similar we were in that respect, as much as I hated to admit it to myself. Seeing her upset made me upset, but I couldn't bring myself to potentially place us both in an awkward situation by barging in again. I tiptoed back to my room, picking up the home phone I saw on the way, and carefully shut the door behind me again.

I was going to call Jerry, as much as it pained me to do so. He probably had no interest in talking to my mother right now, meaning he didn't necessarily want to talk to me either, but it was happening anyway. I would tell my mother about this later when it was okay to laugh about it and mention how much I didn't want to make the call, but did anyway.

Quickly dialling the number to his cell phone before I could change my mind, I held the phone to my ear and took a deep breath while I thought of what to say. It rang several times, making me think that he wasn't going to pick up, which honestly made me feel relieved.

"Hello?" Damn it.

"Hi," I said somewhat quietly.

"Rose, I really don't want to talk right now…" he started.

"It's Morgan," I corrected, somewhat appalled at the fact that he thought I was my mother.

"Oh, sorry, Morgan, what's going on?" Jerry asked.

"Um, is everything okay? Where are you?" I asked, trying not to sound as upset as I was actually getting.

"Yeah, Morg, I'm fine. I'm just out right now, okay? Are you alright?" I sighed at the response; it was almost a repeat of my earlier conversation.

"I'm fine. When are you coming back?" I asked matter-of-factly, wanting to just get the conversation over with.

"I don't know," Jerry replied. I felt my eyes cloud over a little, but this time I was more angry than sad.

"What do you mean you don't know? Are you coming back?" I somewhat snapped at him. I think both of us were a bit taken aback; I had never snapped at Jerry since he had moved in. At the beginning, yes, I had been a little snarky, but I was just maintaining appearances.

"Of course I'm coming back," he said, almost as if he was trying to make me feel bad for even thinking of asking.

"When?" I asked, pressing the issue.

"Morgan, I don't know, alright?" Jerry's use of my full name was somewhat of a rarity, so I must have been really getting on his nerves.

"Well, you scared us, okay? My mom and I have been left on our own before, and I just want to know now if it's happening again instead of just waiting and freaking myself out," I exclaimed, keeping my voice from shaking successfully.

"I'm coming back. I'll be back soon, so stop worrying. I'm sure your mom will be happy to know you called," Jerry said almost instantaneously, probably because he either wanted to make sure I didn't go into a tailspin, or because he just wanted me to end the call. Maybe it was both.

"You weren't fighting about me, were you?" I asked suddenly. I hadn't thought that through when I was thinking about what I was going to say; it had only been a small thought at the back of my mind.

"Of course not. It's not your fault at all," Jerry said sincerely, and it completely convinced me. I would, of course, still worry about it, but at least I could remind myself later that there was a confirmation that it wasn't true.

"Okay. Thank you. You really scared me, okay? And I don't usually get caught up in this stuff," I replied with a breathless laugh, blinking to keep my eyes clear.

"I know. I'm sorry. Bye, Morg," he said.

"Bye," I said, hanging up and breathing a sigh of relief.

Even though it was probably the wrong decision to withhold the information I had just obtained, I elected to start attempting to sleep instead of wrapping myself up in more drama. It would have been much nicer of me to go downstairs and inform my mother that all was going to be okay, but even though I hadn't dealt with a whole lot, it felt like way too much parental drama. That wasn't even supposed to be happening anymore.

As I was starting to drift off, I could hear the door open, followed by some murmured voices that didn't sound remotely angry like they had earlier. It gave me the smallest sense of satisfaction knowing that I might have helped in the resolution, even if it was just in the slightest amount. I also felt a big sense of relief knowing that I hadn't inadvertently caused any of the argument. That was often a worry that plagued me when my mom and dad fought constantly, but I had never done anything to try and diminish the fear. At least I had enough confidence to ask, even though I didn't have enough confidence to not automatically assume I was the problem.

"Good morning," my mom said as she walked past my room in the morning. I was doing my usual procrastinating by writing my latest installment in my emails to Catherine when I should have been finishing getting ready for school.

"Morning," I responded absent-mindedly.

"I know you don't think you were, but you were really wonderful last night, Morgan. Thank you again. I like being reminded that you actually do care," my mom said, smiling a little.

"Yeah," I said, brushing her comment off as she walked away. It did resonate with me a little, enough to make me choose to do something I had never done without major protest on my part before. I picked up the phone that was still sitting in my room from last night and dialled.

"Hello?"

"Hi, dad," I said, still shocked at the almost random choice I had just made.

"Oh, hey, M. What's up?" he replied, sounding as surprised as I would have if he had called me.

"Nothing, just wanted to talk."

So I wanted to have some Morgan character development towards her being as empathetic and lovely as she is on CSI now :) Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will hopefully be this weekend :)