Desperation

For over 264 hours, I’ve been waiting, formulating some plan. Eleven days to those who aren’t privy to math. To me, though, I’ve felt every. Single. Hour.

It’s not healthy to hold onto my trauma like this. I know. When your boyfriend cheats on you, you dump him. Immediately. This has been pounded into my feminism for decades.

What They didn’t say was “dump that boyfriend, even if you’ve been with him for half your life, and he cheats with your best friend and roommate.”

I wish my mom would tell me that right now. Of course that means I actually have to tell her what’s going on with me without trying to mask my obvious depression with a simple: “grad school is kicking my ass.” I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed to tell her that Avery is cheating. I’ve had plenty of time on the Facetime calls we have every morning.

Maybe it’s because we’ve been dating since we were 14, and my mom was already so hesitant about him from over a decade and a half ago. Maybe it’s because I thought once you reached your late twenties, getting cheated on was childish. Maybe I know she’ll be heartbroken to know that he cheated with Yelena, who I’ve known for my entire life.

I look at the photos of the four of us, as if we were our own crew when I was in high school. I had the hangout house, given my lenient mother. Damn all these framed photos. Damn those two for ruining all my best memories, and having the audacity to still be featured in various photos in my family home. It’s like there’s no escape.

“I’m sure staring those birds down won’t make them stop chirping so loud,” Mom chuckles. “It’s early, you should be getting rest.”

“They should be updating our test scores in the next couple hours,” I say flatly, realizing I’ve been glaring down the chickadees outside. “My summer starts when Professor Muning tells me I passed her stupid fuckin’ class.”

She dramatically gasps. “Wow, language. You think because you’re almost thirty—”

“Mom, please,” I say with a humorless chuckle. “You can smack me if you want to, but I need the outlet to cuss.”

She smiles knowingly, and sits beside me at the window’s ledge, patting my leg gently. “I wish I was stressed about school and grades when I was your age.”

“When you were my age, I was like, thirteen? School is probably the last thing you were worried about.” I sound like her as I say this, something she used to say to me all the time.

“Thank god I was a teen mom, huh? Now I have such a cool, smart kid to take care of me before I’m geriatric.”

This is something I can’t help but smile at. Maybe in such a moment, I should drop this news. That everything I’ve known has been a lie. “I wanna move back in, I think. Just for a little bit.”

Her face doesn’t seem to change, but I feel like she resists a smile. She’s been wanting that since I left the house. “Good way to save some money.”

“Me and Yelena aren’t getting along as roommates like I thought. I need some space from her. I’m not… ready to live with Avery.” I feel my lip twitch with the stinging of angry tears behind my eyes.

Her face grows concerned in an instant. “What’s up?” It’s like she already knows as she leans in to look me in the eyes.

To think that my own heartbreak will break my mother’s heart causes more of an ache in my chest, and I take a deep breath. “I really don’t even have time to worry about… some crazy bullshit.”

“What are they doing.” Her tone dips flat, and she definitely knows by now. I can’t bear to bring up any more words without sobbing, and as soon as I try, I’m taken into her arms, and rocked back and forth as I melt into a pool of tears.

------

It feels desperate to put on a dress and heels while I feel so stupidly sad. Desperation is what this is, though, as I stand by my mother in the mirror, wondering how on earth she’s worn this rouge lipstick almost all her life. We look like twins

It’s too nice outside to not feel good and look even better.

Classic. My mom’s breakups, multiple over my lifetime, have always ended with her getting dolled up and going out for a self-indulgent day before settling later into tears and ice cream. I secretly hoped for this moment. It’s soured by a text on my phone.

Hella Yelena<3: hey girl, any idea when you’re gonna be back home?

I stare at it. I know my mom is looking, and I flash the screen her way. “Never,” I scoff aloud.

My mom frowns, hugging me from the side. “You don’t have to answer.”

“She knows I know.”

A normal day turned into my nightmare just eleven days ago. I thought I was out to lunch with my best friend, celebrating the end of my school year. I thought I was just looking over her bag and phone while she ran to the bathroom. In reality, the universe wanted me to see those three texts.

Avery: she said you two were going to brunch, are you telling her?????

Avery: don’t. Please Yelena. Just let me work this out myself, or we tell her together. Don’t ruin everything off impulsive decisions. Please. I’m begging you.

Avery: Yelena!!! She’s going to hate us both if she knows everything. Please. Just wait. Timing is everything here.

Stunned was an understatement. I couldn’t hide it on my face. I couldn’t hide it through my words. Once she returned to check her phone, she saw my face, and the jig was up. I thought she’d break, as Yelena was prone to do. She couldn’t keep a secret for the life of her.

After a timid brunch, we walked home in silence. I had a hard time walking straight.

“So… what do you think about—”

“Do you think Avery is cheating on me?” My voice sounded too inquisitive, but it didn’t matter. The color draining from her face told me what I needed to know.

She cleared her throat. “He wouldn’t.”

“Mhmm.”

I packed an overnight bag a few hours later, and left for my Mom’s while she microwaved her stupid, vegan dinner.

At least now, I have my other best friend here to make me feel ditzy and careless in the motherly way she knows how.

“You should block them,” she shrugs. “Screw it. If they know you know, there’s no need to pour out all your emotions for these people who hurt you.”

I sigh, taking a sip of my margarita. “Ugh, Mom. I wish I found out without them knowing. Just to see their faces. But… whatever.”

“Whatever is right. Take it from a 46 year old. You don’t have time for this in your life. You’re too ambitious, young, beautiful—”

She’s interrupted by my phone buzzing with a call from Yelena, and I ignore it.

Until I see a call right after from Avery.

“Fuck,” I grumble. “It’s a forty minute drive. They’re both calling me. I should just go over there and—”

“No, Morgan. C’mon. Spend time with your mama.”

“I have to give them a piece of my mind. I might as well get this over with.” The calls aren’t letting up, either. By the time both of them call again, and then again, I’ve had it.

In the middle of my mom’s sentence, I finally snatch my phone from the table, and stomp away, exiting the restaurant gate and standing on the curb. “What. What is it?”

I hear just breathing from the other line, and then a huge gulp. “Morgan. Are you free for a second?”

“No, Avery. I’m not.”

“Do you happen to be at Casio’s Brunch?”

Instantly, I look around, and see the familiar sight of my current torment, standing side by side across the busy street. Once I spot them, Yelena has the nerve to wave.

“You stalked me now?”

“Morgan. I love you. This is really important, a-and I know you have a lot of questions—”

“You guys are interrupting time with me and my mom,” I say through clenched teeth, tempted to flip them off, but not wanting attention from the budding public.

I watch as Yelena snatches Avery’s phone. “Morgan, this is the biggest code red ever. You gotta listen to us. Now. And come over. Because you don’t deserve this. You deserve an explanation.”

I hate that in her voice, I still hear my best friend. So much to the point where I stupidly look up, seeing the WALK sign, and decide to do just that. I look back at my mother with a wave, and I watch as she gives me a concerned look, and starts walking over. I gesture for her to stay, and since she won’t be able to cross the street anyway, I quickly beat the light.

Their faces are guilt-ridden, but as I approach, I sense something even darker. As if they somehow feel bad for me.

“You fucking pieces of—”

“Morgan. Look.” Avery starts immediately going through his phone, and Yelena begins to do the same. “I-I couldn’t tell you at first. I thought it’d blow over, go away. I thought—”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You thought you guys could, what, sleep together and I’d never know?” As I’m spewing anger, a phone is shoved in my face. I don’t know what I’m looking at, until I start to read.

Morgan’s Mom: Let me know when you’re ready, Avery. You’re obviously desperate for a real woman, and until she steps up, you might as well find it somewhere else :)

Avery: Please stop. I’ll have to tell Morgan if you start this up again.

Morgan’s Mom: Avery, Avery. I watched you become a man, I know what you want. I’m not saying now, but let me know when you want to fulfill those fantasies you’ve had all these years. Once you two move in together, I’ll be over all the time, and you can get your wish <3

Avery: Sylvia. I’m going to HAVE to block you, and if you contact me again with this energy, I’ll have to tell her. I never wanted anything from you besides being a possible future mother in law, and for you and Morgan to stay close. PLEASE don’t text me again.

Morgan’s Mom: You’ll never tell her, because you’ll come to me when you’re ready. It’s a shame we’ll have to wait longer. But I’ll grant your wish, and I won’t text you again until I know you’re more mature :)

My throat is dry. I’m barely audible. “That’s not real.”

“Morgan…” Yelena’s eyes swell with tears. “We know it’s wrong to do this now. We know. And I’m so fucking sorry. We were just desperate.”

“You’re lying,” I whisper, feeling my spirit collapse. Their faces tell it all. I refuse to accept it.

Avery’s thumbs shakily twiddle on his screen as he pulls up my mother’s contact number, and subsequently goes to their text messages. Dozens and dozens. I can’t even tell how far apart they are, but as he keeps scrolling, and I read the same things over and over in different varieties, I feel sick to my stomach.

“Avery told me because he felt like he had to tell someone. I was helping him respond, try to keep things minimal, cut her off. But he told me that she does this every few years, and—”

“Stop,” I whimper, voice meek. “Just… stop.”

“Morgan?! MORGAN!!” I hear my mother’s voice coming closer and closer, shoes clicking on the pavement. As I turn to look at her, my body feels like it's in slow motion. “Don’t talk to them, Morgan!”

“I’m sorry,” Avery says shakily.

“I’m so sorry,” Yelena says, covering her face.

“MORGAN!!!”

--------

2,920 hours and counting. Four months, for those who don’t want to calculate how long it’s been since I’ve talked to my mother. Sixteen weeks since I watched all her “quirks” become an outpouring of instability, vitriolic jealousy, gaslighting, and hate toward me. As if I had known somehow, she unleashed it all to make it seem like it was my fault.

Sometimes, I look at Avery, and wish he’d cheated on me instead.

That’d be easier.

“How do you feel this morning?” A question from him that isn’t so new anymore, although it was new four months ago, when I’d usually fill up half my morning time talking with her.

“I’m alright.”

He looks at me sadly, kissing my forehead, patting my leg. I could flinch away from the gesture for how much it reminds me of her.

“Yelena’s bringing over some curtains for us. We won’t be blinded by the sun as soon as we wake up now. Only took months, heh.”

I nod, giving him a smile.

“I don’t mind waking up, knowing what kind of day is coming,” I nod, watching the skies fade to light blue.

Avery slips his arms around my waist. “Neither do I.”