The Fourth of July and the Surrounding Events

CHAPTER 16

After I found the photo album with Morgan's childish scrawl in it, I found it hard to sleep. I pored over every single photo in the album like it was my gospel. As if I had to find the missing pieces of my heart in there. It was a lot easier to decipher who the little blonde girl was once I actually knew who she was. Morgan's younger self looked freer, a lot less burdened, and much, much happier. It was sad to see if I'm being honest, but that's probably my fault.

I don't remember much of Morgan, but if the timeline of the album and her leaving Rockland lines up correctly, she left just after my parents' divorce. Her eyes were the same though, the lightness in them was unmistakable. The blonde girl sitting next to me eating popcorn was Morgan. Not to mention the signature of Morgan Laurent.

It's crazy to think about. The girl who kissed me mere hours before was my friend, who I had clearly forgotten. What's crazier to think about though, is that she probably has no idea. I was split between calling her, texting her, or just plain driving to her house to tell her the amazing news, but my enthusiasm was curbed by the thought of her not being ready to see me so soon after the kiss. So I waited.

Trying to sleep was torture to my body. My head was full of semi-unrealistic scenarios of how she'd react, running around my mind at lightning speed. Eventually drifting off into an extremely restless sleep, I dreamt of her petal-soft lips crashing into mine again.

Waking up to sunlight pouring down onto my face, I was greeted with a cold slap of reality.

Tyler. Of course, he's still here.

I could hear his obnoxiously loud car pulling into the driveway, probably coming back from a night of partying, seeing as he hadn't come home last night. Getting ready as fast as I could, I tried to slip past him to the kitchen, to no avail.

"Hello, Alexandria," he greeted me with that stupid smug smirk on his face per usual, "what're you doing here?"

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed an apple, snarkily responding, "I live here, unlike you asshole."

His eyes widened just enough for me to realize I hit a nerve, but clearly not a big enough one because he countered quickly, "Oh, you live here? I didn't notice. How come I never see you around? Right, because you're never home."

Listening to his uptight voice was making me more annoyed by the second. "This isn't a home Tyler," I said, annunciating his name.

"Well for once, you're not completely wrong, Alexandria," he mocked me, "It's not your home. I own this house, much like I own your mother."

His words flew towards me like a slap to the face. Hearing him speak like that about her, cut through me like a knife. Clenching my fists, I got ready to punch him. Luckily for me, my brain took the high and safe road and forced my body to walk away.

He's an asshole. But he isn't wrong. When my mom met Tyler, it had only been a couple of years after my dad left. My mom isn't a weak-minded person, but she was used to being taken care of. So when Tyler entered the picture, she let him in easily. He paid off the loan my mom had been left with when splitting her and my dad's assets. So in a way, he did own this house. But he does not and will never own my mother. She is a strong woman, regardless of her flaws.

Quickly running back upstairs to get my phone and keys, I hopped in my car and drove down to the pier. The wind rushing through my hair freed my mind from all of its woes. Ever since I broke my relationship off with Katelyn, admitted everything to Jayde, and well, made out with Morgan, I felt a lot freer. The only thing weighing on my mind was the uncovered photo album. Morgan definitely deserves to know. She's an even bigger part of my life now.

Reaching the pier in what felt like record time, I locked my car, walking down the sandy wooden dock stairs to the beach. It was relatively empty, as this isn't the most popular pier entrance, which is why my friends and I always go to this one.

Making my way to the caves, I let the warm July air cover my body like a blanket. The familiar smell of salt filled my senses, and I felt waves of nostalgia hit me. Years of going to this beach flashed through my head like the fastest slideshow ever. My parents, Jayde and Mateo, even Katelyn, but out of all those mental images, my brain picked out a specific one. It was of younger Morgan and I eating fish and chips in the big cave with an older couple, who I presumed to be her grandparents. Snapping out of the memory, I sat down immediately.

That's new.

But the familiar feeling of the sand touching my hand threw me into another memory. Again of Morgan, but slightly older. I was throwing handfuls of sand at her while she laughed covering her eyes. Starting to panic from all the memories flooding back into my head, at lightning speed, I wrapped my arms around my knees, burying my head in an attempt to block out the insane amount of anamnesis.

Failing miserably, I felt a dark cloud come over my mind as I was transported back to the past yet again. As the memory unraveled in front of me, I recognized it as a funeral. Hundreds of people were in attendance of the outdoor affair. Notably, my mother, the Michaelson's, and Jayde and Morgan's families were there.

Who's funeral is this though?

My internal question was answered when Mrs. Laurent walked up to the coffin, laying a bouquet of roses on top, and nearly collapsing on it as she sobbed openly.

Morgan's grandma.

I could tell I was older than 10 years old, as my dad wasn't anywhere to be found. My younger self looked over to Morgan's tear-stricken face. She had a bandage on the side of her face and her arm was in a cast. She said she had gotten into a boating accident with her grandmother but I guess it never occurred to me that she had gotten hurt. Her eyes reached mine, clinging onto them like I was the only thing she had left. Walking over to her, we held each other in a tight embrace, and only then did I realize I was also sobbing.

Pulling myself out of the painful memory, I brought myself back to consciousness.

I remember everything.

The years of Morgan and I sitting in her bedroom, her grandparent's house, picnics, fairy huts, town events, carnivals. Everything. It was all back. The happy and sad days, the childish arguments, the girl talk. The memories swarmed my already destroyed mind like bees to a flower. Squeezing themselves back in the shelves of my head where they belonged, they shoved fragile memories to the side, breaking the locks I had on the too painful ones. They shattered, spilling the painful contents all over the floor of my consciousness. Images of my parents screaming at each other, the family divorce court, screaming while I was ripped from my dad's embrace at the airport.

Screaming into the air in an attempt to escape the feeling of acid burning my body, I let it all out. Tears spilling out with no mercy, I felt years' worth of tied-back agony unleash on my unsuspecting body. Sobs wracking my entire being, I let my mind inspect the memories that I had deemed too painful to be left available. Screaming until my voice was hoarse and the pain subsided, I let out one last cry, dispersing the pain into the fading July light. I've avoided those memories for the longest time, but they were bound to break open one time or another. I just never thought new, past memories would be the catalyst of such mental devastation.

Sitting there for a few more minutes, I wiped my tears away and collected myself.

So much for a relaxing afternoon at the beach.

I do have a problem with bottling my emotions up, but I have just as much of a problem with blocking out memories. As difficult as the past hour was if anything it made me feel freer. If I could deal with the pain I just faced, I could take on virtually anything. There aren't many things that could hurt more than reliving being ripped from your father's arms. The only two that come to mind are betrayal and being lied to.