Page 60 of The Secret We Keep
She blows out a heavy breath. “Better late than never. So, you can’t sleep, huh?”
Rolling to my back, I say, “You know me.”
“Yeah, I do. What happened?”
My free arm bends across the top of my head. “So much I don’t even know where to begin.”
Holly chuckles. “Wanna talk about it?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I reply, “Not now.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am.” I roll to my side with the phone against my ear. “How’s your aunt?”
“Oh, you know, old and miserable.”
I can’t help but laugh, enjoying hearing her voice. I’ve missed her. “When are you coming home?”
“A few more days.”
My lips pull into a straight line. “Okay.”
“Unless you need me to come home sooner?”
“I always need you,” I reply, making Holly let out a gentle hum of amusement.
“Ah, thanks, I feel so special. But you do just fine without me, Morgan.”
“Not true. You went away for a few days and everything went to shit.”
“What about the job? Did you hear back?”
“I got it,” I tell her, a mix of happiness and frustration running through my veins. “I start Monday.”
“That’s great news,” she sings cheerily.
“Yeah,” I remark, hearing how flat I sound. I don’t want to work there, but I need to start somewhere. There’s silence down the phone. “You still with me?”
“I’m here. You know, you used to write stuff down when things got too much. You could give that a go? Tell it to the paper as you used to say.”
“I said that?”
She laughs. “Cringy, right?”
“Definitely cringy,” I laugh back, vaguely remembering. “But yeah, you’re right. I can’t sleep so I could be productive I suppose.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I sit up, scratching the top of my head near my ponytail. “I’ll let you go, but I’ll message you soon.”
“Sounds good. See you soon, Morgs. Night.”
I hang up and drop my phone on the duvet. Throwing back the covers, I tiptoe quickly to my pad and paper on the side, then dash back to the warmth of my bed. Clicking the end of my pen, I let the tip dance across the page until the sun begins to rise.
Running on four hours of sleep, I arrive at my first day of work on Monday morning. I put on my big girl pants today and caught the bus, something I will not be getting used to, if I can help it.
I wouldn’t say all my bridges are burned between me and Dad, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask for his help. In fact, yesterday, apart from coming down for Sunday lunch where I had to endure endless conversation about Jerry and his perfect life, I stayed away from the mix. Truth be told, I couldn’t stop writing.
