Chapter 22
Morgan
The Nateless weeks come and go. He hasn’t made an appearance to Wang’s class. I assume he’s chosen avoidance over pretend politeness.
A tiny part of me knows he’s super busy, like most Persimmon students, and he has edits to do for the book. But I can’t rationalize my crazy.
I stopped showing up at the dining hall, accepting the fact that we can no longer be lunch buddies. Instead, I have been eating at the sorority house or skipping lunch all together because I haven’t had an appetite.
My friends visit Tau at least once each weekend, but I’ve avoided it completely. I do have friends in other frats that I could visit, but I’ve chosen to stay in and study or drink with Elizabeth.
Last night I may have indulged a little too much. My head is aching as I walk around the room searching for my tennis shoes.
I find one under a pile of dirty laundry and bend to sift through the mess for another. Our room looks like a pigsty.
“Knock, knock!” Jen shouts from right behind me.
I scream and jump onto the couch, clutching my shoe to my chest as if it could save me. If an actual attacker ever made a grab for me, I’d have a heart attack and die. And here I thought I was tough.
“Jesus, Jen!”
She winks and sits down beside me. “Sorry, thought you heard me enter.”
“You’re not sorry at all.”
“Nope. But don’t worry, a little adrenaline rush is great for the body.”
“Thanks for the favor.” I hope my sarcasm isn’t lost on the she-devil.
“I live to serve. Where are you going?”
“It’s Sunday. I have to work.”
“Oh, yeah.”
I put on my shoes, expecting Jen to make tracks. She doesn’t. She sits and watches me.
“What?” I brusquely ask.
“You know what I’ve come for, woman,” she says, batting her eyelashes.
“Don’t start again.”
“Morgan, you know very well I never stopped. You have to quit this moping. You’re butt-ass sad and it’s messing with your life. And stressing me the fuck out. We’re all worried about you.”
I groan. Living with thirty-something people in one house doesn’t give one much privacy. They all know. They’ve all tried to counsel me. It’s getting old.
“Well, everyone can stop worrying. I’m not exactly falling apart here, Jen.”
“No, you’ve just achieved Tier 1 Bitch Level status—congrats, by the way. Few of us ever make it that high. You’re like the culmination of ten years of P.M.S. at one time. You’re Snippy McSnipperbitch. You’re—”
I put both hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
I’ll admit that I may have been a little more aggressive than normal. I don’t think telling a room full of my peers to get out of my shit was all that bad.
Sure, I yelled it in the middle of dinner in our small dining room and everyone was awkwardly silent afterwards. But that’s happened before. To someone. Somewhere. On Earth.
“Do you? You’re not you, Morgan.”
“I’m fine.”
“I hate to burst your twat bubble, but you’re not fine.”
“What the hell is a twat bubble?”
Jen laughs. “I don’t know. I heard Rebecca say it to Evan. I liked it so I stole it. But that’s not the point,” she scolds, wagging her finger at me.
“This has gone on for sooo freaking long. I’m exhausted and it’s not even my life. If you don’t deal with your shit when you go home for Thanksgiving, Rebecca and I have made a pact to drive to Planters Grove and force you to do it.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know how else to help you. So, I’m nudging you in the right direction.”
I snort. “It’s more like a two-hand push. Or hitting me with a truck.”
Jen shrugs. “Whatever works.”
I look down at my feet. “Thanks,” I mumble.
Instead of punching me, Jen tackles me in a bearhug so hard she jars my brain. Now the dull ache is pounding, but I don’t mind. It was a tackle of love. A love tackle. A lackle. I’ll take it.
“Okay, mommy lecture is over. Get your ass to work.”
Jen hops up and exits the room, leaving me checking to make sure I still have all my teeth. She’s stronger than she looks.
My smile is small, but it lasts all the way to the athletic center. It feels good having friends like Jen. I must have done something right in my life. Hell if I know what.
Today I’m keeping score for the intramural basketball games. I walk to Coach Daniels’ office to check to see which court I’ll be manning.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Coach Daniels says as he walks out of the office.
“Listen, I have to take care of something really quick. I’m supposed to ref the game you’re scoring.”
“Okay…” I’m not sure what he’s telling me.
He holds out a whistle and I instinctively take it.
“I need you to ref for a while.”
“What? I don’t know if I can do that,” I say, dumbfounded. I cannot ref this game.
“Sure, you can. You played basketball in high school. And it’s just until I get back.”
“Aren’t there other refs?”
“Of course. They’re reffing the other games.” He pats my shoulder and says, “Thanks, Morgan.”
He walks away and I’m left holding the whistle. Guess I’m reffing tonight. I look up at the schedules posted along the wall and find my name. I’m on Court 3 and it’s the Zs vs. the … damnit. Taus. This is not good.
I drop my chin to my chest in defeat. My karma is shit. Nate plays for the Taus. Even worse is the fact that Brian Davies plays for the Zs.
He’s like a smarter, slimier version of Daryl. His dad is some kind of famous cancer doctor and he wants everyone to know it. He also tried to feel me up and stick his giant tongue down my throat. Twice. He’s disgusting.
I can’t just bail. Coach Daniels is who-knows-where. The game starts in a few minutes and I don’t see any alternative.
As much as I want to avoid Nate, I’m also dying to see him. I can’t help it. I miss him.
Unwelcome butterflies invade my belly as I walk to the court. I walk slowly, as if that could do anything to stop this event from happening. These boys are going to eat me alive.
They always trash-talk the refs, who, in turn, put the smack down. But the refs are normally coaches here. Adult, grown-ass coaches. Not students in the middle of an emotional breakdown.
The teams are already warming up when I step onto the court. I check the clock and see there’s only a couple of minutes before tip-off. Great. Two minutes.
“Hey, Morgan.”
I turn and see Nate walking towards me. I feel a surge of adrenaline, similar to the one from my earlier near heart attack. At least I don’t think Nate’s going to attack me. Well, not until he experiences my officiating. Then I’m sure I’m dead meat.
“You keeping the score for this game?”
I hold up the whistle and grimace. “Reffing.”
Nate tilts his head, as though he has to think about it. It kind of pisses me off. If he says one word that implies I can’t do it—even though I know this is going to be god-awful—I will rip him a new one. I am not in the mood.
“You okay with that?” he asks.
Hmm. Nate lives to see another day. Of course, he’s being nice about it and showing concern. Per-fucking-fection. Hopefully, he’ll keep the Taus off my back.
“I don’t really have a choice. Daniels had some minor emergency. But he’ll be back. Don’t worry, this is temporary.”
Nate looks over at the Zs. “It’s not your officiating I’m worried about.”
I follow his gaze and frown. Most of the guys on the other team aren’t particularly well-respected around here. They’re whiney and sore losers.
“Yeah, well, if any of them say anything I give you permission to start removing body parts.”
Nate laughs. “You got it.”
He jogs back over to his team. It’s time to start. I grab the game ball off the table and put the whistle around my neck and blow it to signal the teams.
They come over to the benches. I’m getting some hard looks already. I bristle. Good. It fits my shitty outlook on life. It’s amazing how quickly my trepidation is turning into something akin to fury.
“Alright gents,” I announce. “We’re short on help right now. Whomever is on the bench is going to have to help with the scoreboard.”
“Who’s officiating?” Brian asks.
I point at my chest.
“Little ol’ me. And before you say a word, I didn’t have a choice. And it’s temporary. Daniels will be along in a bit and he’ll take over. We can handle that, right, ladies?”
Brian shakes his head and mumbles something.
Fucker. I blow the whistle and yell, “Technical foul! Number 2-2. Two shots blue.”
The Taus start cracking up. They’re my friends so they must know it was meant as a joke. Or, maybe as a way to antagonize the asshat.
I am aware that I might be putting my emotions into one giant burning ball that is currently directed at Brian Davies. But it makes me feel better, so maybe I’ll just let the sucker fly.
Brian whips around, raising his voice, “Are you fucking kidding me, Morgan? You can’t call a T before the game even starts!”
I laugh again. “It was a joke, Davies. Geez.”
I walk to the center of the court, faking my confidence with an insincere smile. I’ll call the game as fairly as I can, but if Davies runs his mouth, I might launch the ball at his face.
The teams take their spots and move around the circle.
“Before I toss this ball, please remember there is only one of me and I’m not going to catch every single foul. Do be good sports today.”
Both players doing the jump ball nod and get ready. I toss the ball and the game begins. It’s evenly matched, but I can tell the Zs are way too serious about it. The ball moves up and down both ends, nobody scoring in the first two minutes.
They’re playing clean and I make the mistake of thanking the Universe for this small favor. The second I do, Nate scores on Brian. Who, in turn, looks at me with his arms up.
I shrug. I don’t know what he’s upset about.
“Jesus. Call the charge, will ya?” he spits out.
“Sure thing. As soon as I actually see one.”
Nate snorts as he runs by and the game continues. It’s like this for the entire first quarter. Daniels is still a no-show.
I thought I’d only have to do a couple of minutes. The Zs are getting pissier and pissier, despite the tied score.
We start the second quarter and Brian goes up for a shot which Penny blocks. Penny is the tallest one out there and easily swats it away. It’s awesome and I almost cheer.
“For fuck’s sake, call the foul!” Brian yells.
Before I can reply, Nate steps in front of him.
“Calm down. It was a clean block.”
I step closer. “Yeah, what he said.”
Brian’s head swivels in my direction.
“You are such a bitch.”
“Wrong thing to say, dickhead.” Nate reaches for Brian, but Penny and Evan grab him before he can get ahold of Brian’s jersey.
“Well, she’s doing a terrible job. This game will keep us in first place. And I fully intend to keep first place, Stevenson. The championship is ours.”
The championship is ours? Oh, my god. He’s too much. I can’t hide the humor on my face. Davies’ face is the opposite and reddens in anger.
I hold up my palms to him. “Wait. Wait. You’ve been bitching this whole time because you’re afraid of dropping out of first? You wanna be The Piss Lord of Shit Mountain so badly? Oh, man, that’s priceless.”
I take another step towards him, focusing on speaking slowly and clearly. “It’s small college intramurals, Brian. Everybody makes the playoffs. Everybody gets a ribbon.”
More laughter erupts behind me. The boys let go of Nate, assuming the bomb has been diffused.
“Fuck you, slut. Everybody knows you’re giving it up to Stevenson and—”
Before he can finish, Nate comes at him in a blur and pushes Brian so hard he goes flying off the court and into the wall.
Nate continues his forward motion, looking like he’s going to kill Brian. The rest of the Taus are on Nate immediately. It takes all of them to stop his charge, including the three from the bench. Damn, he’s strong.
I stand there, in shock. No one has ever spoken to me with such vitriol before. I can handle his whining about the calls I make. But Brian threw something at me similar to hatred. And it happened to be the one thing that could break me.
My guilt. He called me a slut. People think I’m screwing Nate. They’ve likely seen us eating lunches together or walking around campus, like couples do.
We didn’t have sex, but I totally cheated on my boyfriend with Nate. Maybe I am a slut. Did he tell someone? Would he do something like that to me?
Three months of pent-up emotions bubble to the surface. My eyes sting and I can’t think clearly enough to offer a retort.
Both teams are shouting at each other, but I don’t process what they’re saying. Nate is still trying to get to Brian who is slowly rising to his feet.
I’m getting ready to break down and I refuse to do it in front of Brian. Or Nate.
“What the hell is going on?” Coach Daniels shouts, running into the melee.
I toss the whistle on the table and run out of the gym, unable to deal. I don’t stop until I’m back in my room.
I curl into a ball and finally let it out. I’m so used to trying to rein it in that I’m overwhelmed once I let it out.
I’m hiccupping and trying to catch my breath. My eyes are clenched shut, trying to hide, like when I was little and thought if I couldn’t see someone, they couldn’t see me.
I hear multiple pairs of feet rush into my room. Hands are on me, rubbing, soothing. Elizabeth is trying to ask me what’s wrong but Jen tells her to be quiet.
“She needs to let it out, E,” Rebecca says.
“About fucking time.”
Jen. She never minces words.
I keep my eyes closed tight, no longer trying to stop the breakdown. No longer trying to hold it together.
The phone rings. Elizabeth must turn off the ringer because it’s silenced quickly. I lie there, sobs wracking my body. All that repressed energy and angst, finally rolling through and out of me.
Eventually, I start to drift off to sleep with six arms still wrapped around me. It’s the only comfort I have at this point in my life. My last thought before I’m completely out is how thankful I am for these girls, and how blessed I am that they’ve put up with the asshole I’ve become.