XVI
I know that up until now I had considered almost every experience in my life to have some varying degree of awkwardness, but I am fully confident that nothing compared to the situation I found myself in not long after I had said the three words to my dad that had a good chance of ruining our relationship forever. People within a fifty foot vicinity of us probably felt the second-hand awkwardness radiating from the vehicle as he drove from the lab to his apartment, with me stuck in the passenger's seat against my will. I pitied those people, but not as much as I pitied myself. As selfish as that sounded, it was true. Could anyone really blame me?
Neither of us spoke. I had my eyes glued to the sights that passed me by through the window, trying to act natural but failing. Wishing that I had a better sense of direction, especially when it came to Vegas, an area that I was hopeless in, I prayed that we were close to my dad's apartment. Yeah, that would bring a new uncomfortable situation, but at least I would have a bit of breathing space there. I felt like I was being suffocated via the palpable tension in the car, and I'm sure the same went for my father.
Even breathing too loud felt like an added weight on the ever so far from relaxed atmosphere. Would this ever end? Was I going to be trapped in this situation forever?
Honestly, I would have been content with walking to the apartment… Or even sleeping in the lab. Couldn't I have slept in the morgue or something? There had to be an extra spot in there, right? I should've asked when I had the chance. Anything could've been better than this.
As the silence continued, I wondered who would be the first one to break it. I don't think either of us had the ability to navigate out of this. I sure as hell couldn't, nor did I want to, really. As much as I hated this, I was not willing to make amends just to lighten up the mood.
"So…" My dad trailed off as my head whipped to face him out of shock that he actually said something. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for what would happen next. I realized how obnoxious it was of me not to try and contribute anything, but I guess that was part of my plan. "Never mind." Ah, the worst thing he could've said. Following that, we were stuck there, both wondering what he was going to say, which only added to the silence, if that's possible.
"What?" I asked sharply, in a bit more of a harsh tone than I originally intended. I was such a brat sometimes, and probably still am.
"Nothing," he said, pausing for that ever awkward extra beat that accompanied me to almost every conversation I ever had. "I'll just drop you off at Catherine's tomorrow morning, alright?" To be clear, it was a statement, not a question, even though one could be fooled.
"You got it," I replied half-sarcastically, rolling my eyes. If I had provided a kinder reply, I probably could've lightened the situation up a bit, but I guess I just didn't really care.
"Why are you so defensive today?" Defensive? Hmm, maybe. Unbelievably done with all of this and ready to never see my father again? Precisely.
"I'm not," I denied, turning my head to look out the window again. Why couldn't I have just disappeared?
"You know that's not true. What's going on?" The attempt to sound casual was far from appreciated, merely pitied. I couldn't bring myself to feel sympathy. Did that make me a bad person? Well, with all that had happened in the past few hours, probably.
"Nothing!" I exclaimed, choosing not to elaborate when there was nothing to expand on.
"Come on, M, there has to be something. You're never usually this standoffish," he continued, and I sighed. That was the way to get me to talk; essentially attempt to sound concerned but end up insulting me instead. "Are you and your mom arguing again?" I made sure my eyes were completely fixated on the window before thinking of responding. I think I would've preferred it going back to silence at this point.
"As much as you'd like to hear otherwise, no," I said under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear my response. This time, it wasn't me who sighed.
"Morgan," he warned for the second time that day. I looked away from the window long enough to glare at him.
"Yeah?" I challenged, knowing full well how awful I was being. I wonder if he knew that I knew that.
Following the lack of response to my comment, the rest of the drive remained silent, as did most of the evening. There were a few measly attempts at small talk, but the whole situation was plagued with the elephant in the room that was my earlier declaration of hatred. Kind of screwed up with that one, I guess.
I was elated to be getting out of the apartment to go to Catherine's house. It would surely be a huge weight off my chest. As much as everything still bothered me, I had to do my usual routine of pretending I didn't care in the slightest, and I was good at that.
"Let's go, M, we don't have all day," my dad said as I shielded my eyes from the light that was shining down on me. I had the pleasure of sleeping on the most uncomfortable couch on the planet, so not only was I deprived of sleep, but I was being told to hurry while deprived of sleep. I was and never will be a morning person, which is why the night shift is essentially my dream, so the comment was only adding insult to injury, really.
"Go away," I mumbled, but thankfully this time I was the only one who could hear me. I managed to get up and make myself look somewhat presentable in a short amount of time, despite how I wanted to take my time just to be difficult.
Before I knew it, I was being dropped off at the door to Catherine's house, which was far nicer and more welcoming than my dad's apartment ever would be. I was surprised he didn't just slightly slow the car down to let me attempt to leap out; he obviously wasn't as angry as I would have been. We shared only the most awkward of goodbyes, and I was promised (threatened?) that he would be back after his shift.
"You did tell Catherine I was coming, right?" I asked at the last second, suddenly worried.
"Of course I did, M," he replied, driving off. I wasn't convinced. It would've been totally in character for him to merely forget about me, of course. Wasn't that obvious?
I rang the doorbell and waited, wishing I had been here all along. With each passing second, it became more apparent that this must have been a surprise visit, right? I looked back to the road, forgetting that my dad had driven off; he probably didn't care if I made it inside or not, he just wanted the ability to say that I was here.
"Morgan?" Catherine questioned. My heart sank a little as I realized I was probably right in my assumptions. "What are you doing here?"
With that, I was crying, and I wasn't even sure why. Everything had been building up, and I guess my chances of maintaining my tough exterior had been dwindling by the minute. At least I had held it together until after my dad had left, but I could've at least made it through the door first. Catherine didn't seem all that fazed by the fact that I had just shown up to her doorstep and burst into tears, so she ushered me into the house. Thank God for her.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly as she sat next to me on her leather couch. Her house felt too fancy for me to be existing in, yet comfortable all at the same time.
"Don't apologize," she responded immediately, probably because she knew me too well; she knew I would be apologizing the second I was able to form coherent words. "What happened?"
"It's a long story, I guess," I said, definitely still tearful.
"We've got a long time," she replied with a smile, and I laughed a little. I started at the beginning of the somewhat dramatic turn of events, and as usual, she listened to my nonsense without batting an eye. It was like she was specifically trained to deal with me. Countless times I had found myself recalling long, elaborate stories to Catherine when I felt no one else would listen, and she never seemed to mind. I'm pretty sure I owe her for life.
We talked for a long time, even though it didn't feel as long as a conversation with my mother, or almost anyone else for that matter, would have. As always, I felt considerably better, even though I felt like a total basket case again. Being strong on the outside only had so many benefits; sometimes you just had to let it all go and stop trying to act like feelings weren't real.
"I just want to go home," I said suddenly, not even thinking.
"I bet you do," she replied. "Who wouldn't?" I laughed, happy that someone agreed with me.
"True. You know, I feel kind of bad that I'm keeping you up. Isn't it basically nighttime for you?" I asked, gesturing to the broad daylight outside.
"Don't worry about it. I have the night off," she replied.
"Oh. You know, working the night shift sounds pretty awesome," I commented, thinking of how disgusting it was to get up at whatever ungodly hour it was this morning. Also, having to wake up early to go to school felt like it should've been illegal or something.
"It's not as bad as people say. You going to come work for your dad?" Catherine laughed, and I jokingly glared at her.
"He's mentioned that before. I could never do that, even if we worked different shifts. Can you imagine?" I said, imagining all of the possible scenarios I would get myself into.
"He'd just be mad that you'd be better at his job than he is," she joked, and I smiled. I have to admit, that would make me pretty happy. "You'd be a good CSI, though, in all honesty. I think you've got what it takes," she added, making me smile even bigger. It's nice to have people believe in you when it seems that nobody else does.
"Really? I've thought about it. Not here though. Never," I said sincerely. I didn't even want to entertain the possibility of coming back to visit, let alone being here on a permanent basis.
"Yeah, I can see it happening. CSI Ecklie the second," she laughed. I rolled my eyes playfully.
"I've been thinking of changing my last name when my mom finally gets married," I suddenly admitted. I had never said that out loud to anyone, not even when I was talking to myself or anything.
"Good for you. I think that's great, really. Morgan Brody sounds cute… It will be a rough conversation, though," Catherine replied honestly. I nodded.
"I know. But every conversation my dad and I have is rough, though." As terrible as that sounded, it was only the complete truth.
Much later, more into the early evening, when I had insisted that I could take care of myself while Catherine slept, the phone rang. Just my luck, of course. I'm basically by myself in a completely unfamiliar place, and the phone rings. Answering the phone at my own house was bad enough.
"Hello?" I said cautiously after finding the phone.
"Morgan?" Are you kidding me?
"Hi," I said icily, wanting to hang up on my father immediately.
"Listen, I'm probably going to work a double shift, but I can pick you up in the morning and we can do something," he explained. "Is that okay?" he added, possibly trying to make peace.
"Yeah, fine, whatever. I don't care… It's better here anyway. Bye," I said, hanging up. If that conversation continued, it would have ended up uglier than the one yesterday, so at least I had the decency to quit while we weren't even ahead, right?
I sat on the couch, absent-mindedly watching TV while waiting to tell Catherine that her house guest was going to be overstaying her welcome, but didn't have a choice about it. Neither her nor I minded, I presume, but I really shouldn't have been over in the first place, right?
As I sat there, I wondered how this trip was going to end between my dad and I. Would it leave us in an even worse place? It probably would, even though when it was planned, I was almost totally willing to fix everything. That's just how my life had been working, I assume; thinking one thing, while the complete opposite was the actual reality.
Spring break is next week, so hopefully more updates than there have been lately then :) Thank you so much for reading, and I love reading your reviews; they make me smile. :)