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“A little,” she said. “I had breakfast, so it’s not like I’m starving.”
“What did you have?”
“A green tea before rehearsal and a green drink afterward.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t have the slightest idea of what a green drink was.
I slowed the truck when I saw the picnic tables, then pulled into the parking area. None of the tables were occupied, and I zeroed in on one in the shade of a tree I couldn’t name but assumed was some sort of oak. Climbing out, I retrieved the cooler from the bed of the truck and started toward it, Morgan beside me. I plunked the cooler on the table and slid open the lid before pulling out grapes, nuts, cheese, and crackers, along with two crisp apples.
“I wasn’t sure what you might want, so I picked stuff at random.”
She reached for an apple. “This will be perfect,” she said. “Did you bring anything to drink?”
“Iced teas and water.”
“Did you happen to get a tea that’s sugar- and caffeine-free?”
“Actually, I did.” I handed the appropriate bottle to her, and she glanced at the label.
“Pomegranate and hibiscus,” she read. “Well done.”
Taking a seat, I cracked open a bottle of water, then reached for the nuts and the cheese. After a quick debate, I took some of the grapes and the other apple, as well.
“Unlike you, I didn’t have breakfast. I’m starved.”
“Eat what you want. You brought it all. I just wish you would have brought cookies, too. I’d love a good homemade cookie. Or even a couple of Oreos.”
“You eat cookies?”
“Of course I eat cookies. Doesn’t everyone?”
“You don’t look like you eat cookies.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes, I generally try to eat nutritious food, but I also have a crazy metabolism, so if I want a cookie or two, I’m going to enjoy it. If you ask me, there’s way too much pressure on women to be thin instead of strong and healthy. I knew too many girls growing up who had eating disorders.”
Once again, I was struck by not only her self-assurance but her thoughtfulness—especially for someone not long out of her teenage years—and I thought about those things while I opened the nuts and peeled the wrapper from the cheese. Morgan sipped her tea and ate her apple while we settled into easy conversation. I asked her about her hobbies and interests outside of music; I also answered a few more questions about the farm. In time, we settled into silence. Other than the sound of birdcall, there was nothing, and I realized that I liked the fact that she didn’t feel the need to break the spell.
She took another sip of her tea, then I felt her eyes focus on me with renewed attention. “I have a question, but you don’t have to answer.”
“Ask whatever you’d like.”
“How did your mom die? I’m guessing it was cancer or an accident of some sort? Since she was obviously young?”
I said nothing right away. I’d known the question would come, because it almost always did. Usually I tried to deflect or give a vague answer, but I realized I wanted Morgan to know.
“My mom had always been a sad person, even as a teenager,” I began. “According to my aunt, anyway. She thinks it was depression, but from what I’ve been able to piece together since then, I’m pretty sure my mom was bipolar. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though. For whatever reason, when she was feeling particularly low, she slit her wrists in the bathtub. Paige was the one who found her.”
Morgan’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. That’s awful! I’m so sorry….”
I nodded, momentarily flashing to the past, some memories vivid, other parts hazy to the point of disappearing. “We’d just come from school, and when we called for our mom, there was no answer. I guess Paige went to the bedroom to try to find her—I don’t really remember that part. But I do remember Paige grabbing me by the hand and dragging me over to the neighbor’s house. After that, I remember the police cars and the ambulance and all the neighbors standing outside. I don’t remember my aunt and uncle coming to get us, but I guess they had to have been there to take us to the farm.”
“Poor you,” she whispered, her face pale. “Poor Paige. I can’t imagine finding my mom like that. Or even seeing something like that.”
“For sure.”
She was quiet before reaching for my hand. “Colby, I’m sorry for asking you about it. We were having such a nice day and I had to blow it.”
I shook my head, comforted by the warmth of her hand atop my own. “You didn’t blow it. Like I told you, it was a long time ago, and I don’t remember much. And besides, no matter what happens, I’m not going to forget that we saw manatees when we were out in the kayaks today.”
