Page 77 of Love, Morgan

I was willing to accept that Ripley knew me well enough to see through whatever I threw at her, no matter what else was going on, but the absolute audacity of assuming anything about what Iona—a person she’d never even met—wanted was so far out of left field that I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

I walked quicker, forcing her to pick up the pace if she wanted to keep up. She did, and I knew she would. I wasn’t really trying to get away from her. I was trying to get away from how much Iona still haunted every second of my life, and how much I hated it when other people acted like they knew her like I did. They didn’t. It wasn’t possible. So why pretend?

“Morgan, hold up,” Ripley called after me.

“No. If you want to talk to me, you’re going to have to catch me.”

“Morgan, come on. We both know you’re trying to run away from something bigger than me, and we both know you hate running.”

“So we do.” I kept the pace up, though, needing to be back inside. My apartment was safe. Out here, everything felt too exposed, and, of all the things I didn’t want, being seen like this was top of the list.

When I made it home, I threw the door open and darted inside, leaving it swinging open for Ripley. No matter how fast I moved, she wasn’t going anywhere. When she’d been unable to get off the couch after her divorce, I hadn’t gone anywhere. We both knew we were stuck with each other for life.

So, at least I had her.

“Morgan, talk to me,” she said, catching her breath as she closed the door and instantly set about making hot chocolate for us.

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, but keeping it inside isn’t helping. You’re doing a great job in public of pretending that everything’s fine, but I know you better than that. Something’s missing since you came home, and I know it’s Iona.”

The urge to fight and a deep exhaustion warred inside of me. My mind and my heart felt like they were tearing apart from each other, pulling me in opposite, equally unhelpful decisions. The last week and a half without Iona felt heavy, overwhelming, and like a complete waste of life.

The fight leaked out of me. The need to pretend everything was fine feeling pointless and unworthy. I heaved a breath and turned on Ripley. “What do you want me to say? That I miss her? I do! I miss her so much it feels like I can’t fucking breathe, Ripley. It feels like she existed as this dream in my head for over a year, something that could never be real, and then, all of a sudden, she was real. And she was a million times better than I could ever have imagined. Do you have any idea what it’s like, knowing the way her eyes move and quirk upwards when she smiles—really smiles—and knowing I’m never going to see that again? Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to feel like I actually belong in the same space as someone all the time, and to know I can’t have that because I know what that becomes? Do you have any idea how badly I need to not turn into someone who manipulates her in the same way my parents manipulated me?”

I stood, staring at her. My eyes burned and itched, my chest heaving as I saw the moment it registered with us both.

“You’re not worried about her asking things of you,” Ripley said slowly, holding the carton of milk weirdly up in the air, frozen. “You’re worried about doing that to her.”

It suddenly felt so clear. I’d spent so long protecting myself, but the only thing worth hurting myself for was protecting her. “Of course. You know what I went through. I’ve spent my whole life building the life I want because I can’t live someone else’s life. But, with her, it doesn’t feel like that. And you ask stuff of me all the time, of course you do. I ask stuff of you. That’s what being a family is about. And, sure, I don’t know that much about it, but I think we do okay.”

Her expression softened. “We do great.Youdo great.”

“Well, yes. I’m amazing.”

“You are.” She laughed. “And I’m glad we’re family.”

“I am too. There. I said it. Happy?”

She laughed again. “Only you could make something so nice sound so threatening.”

“Yes, yes, I’m very special.”

She put the milk down and walked towards me, pulling me into a tight hug. “You are.”

I gave in. There was something so warm and welcoming about it, some need deep inside of me to be loved and held, to have someone else hold me up on the days life felt too big and heavy to stand against. And wasn’t that family? It didn’t matter what I’d been through with my biological one, Ripley was the person holding me up when the world rained down on me so hard I couldn’t bear it. Just as I was the one holding her up when the world rained down on her. Of all the things she’d taught me, reciprocal love was probably the most important one.

She pulled back, looking me over with a sad, hopeful expression. “So, Iona? You’re trying to protect her from you?”

“Yes.” I clenched my jaw and took a breath. This had been buried so deep inside of me, even I wasn’t supposed to be aware of it. It was supposed to go to the grave with me. “She’s too good, Ripley. She’s nothing like in her videos, and she’s everything like in her videos. She’s just… this multicolored tapestry of every wonderful thing a person ever could be. And what am I? The person who learned that we hurt the people we’re supposed to love? I won’t be the one who cuts her down, Ripley. I won’t ask her to give up her life or her dad or any of it. I can’t give up my life, so I can’t ask her to give up hers.”

She leaned in slightly, looking carefully into my eyes. “Morgan Franklin, you have been my best friend and my family for over twenty years, and you have never hurt me.”

“People hurt each other all the time.”

“Yes, they do. But not the way you mean. You bump against each other and make mistakes, but you apologize, work on it, and move on together. And youknowhow to do that. We’ve been doing it for decades.”

“That’s different. We’re not in love.”

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