The Fourth of July and the Surrounding Events

Chapter 24 (Morgan)

After the Alexa fiasco at Giovanni's Restaurant, I went through what some might call the 7 stages of grief. First came the shock. Waking up the day after was hell. I sat for a few hours on my childhood bed, phone in hand, tears threatening to fall. She hadn't called or texted. Nothing to indicate she was even sorry. I had broken her trust this time. Thumbs begging to type out a short "are you okay" message eventually numbed after countless rejections. Walking downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal, makeup streaked down my face, I looked the part of a zombie.

Then came the denial. I couldn't believe the previous night's events. There was no way the Alexa I knew would ever do anything like this to me. She was kind, both versions of her. She had not a single vindictive bone in her body. She was going to text me, but she just forgot and fell asleep. She did have a long and stressful day before having dinner with me. The thought of Alexa even raising her voice at me was impossible. There was no way she could have been so rude, no, downright disrespectful, to me, though my makeup running down my face said a different story. Eating my cereal slowly, I ran through the night's events, trying to find a loophole or way to reach her, to no avail.

Then came the anger. Standing up quickly, I rushed to the kitchen sink, putting my bowl away, trying not to throw my spoon down. She yelled at me until I cried and then left. No one deserves to be treated like that. She was so out of line. Thumbs ready to angrily dial her number and tell her how much of a piece of shit she is, I managed to toss my phone on the couch away from my reach. Stomping up the stairs, I flopped onto my bed, angry tears spilling out. I didn't deserve this. But she also didn't deserve this. I hurt her too. I wasn't only mad at her, I was also mad at myself. If I had just told the truth about knowing her from the get-go, I wouldn't be in this predicament right now. It's as much my fault as it is hers. 

Then came the bargaining. Still laying on my bed, I thought to myself all the possibilities and situations in which I could go to her house and sort things out. If I went at lunch, I could bring her food, pretending to be an Uber Eats driver. But that's stupid, nor would it work. I would just look stalkerish and desperate. Maybe if I apologized nicely, she might apologize too and then we could go back to kisses on my porch and nighttime swims in her pool. But still, all of that doesn't seem right. Nothing seems right. But she doesn't deserve me to be nice to her. She has temperament issues and needs to get a hold of herself. 

Then came the depression. Hours of debating whether or not to call her led to the evening creeping over me like a thick wool blanket. Maine's dry air whipped through my curtains, chilling my cheeks and drying my eyes. Nothing can ever go right with me, can it? I was so selfish in not telling Alexa I knew her previously. Wanting to cry for hours, but not being able to, finally exhausted me enough to sleep.

Then came the testing. Waking up the next morning brought a new perspective on the situation. I needed a realistic solution for why she had said what she did, and I was going to find one. I ran through each situation at least 3 times. I hurt her and she overreacted. I broke her trust. She was mentally not in a good place and I brought her over the edge. All of these situations were very probable but still didn't excuse or justify her behavior. Scrapping the idea of finding a realistic solution, I began to compile a list of coping mechanisms. I liked lists. They helped me keep my thoughts in order. I tried baking, which used to help me cope with the loss of my grandma, but it just let me stew in my thoughts more. I settled for blasting music and drawing abstract seascapes.

Then came the acceptance. Alexa and I were not going to happen. I was done with her.

A few days later, I heard a knock at the door and found Emery standing there with a tub of ice cream and chocolate syrup. She explained she understood showing up at my door was creepy but couldn't get me off her mind. We talked over the ice cream for hours and as she was leaving, exchanged numbers.

Emery called me after she left my house, asking me to brunch the next day. I accepted and the rest of the week leading up to the party had gone similarly. We grew close and there was tension involved, whether either of us would admit it or not.

On the day of the modeling shoot, Emery stopped by my house asking if I wanted to come with her to the shoot before the party. She made a joke about making me a model, but I declined. My mother and I had to sort through things in the attic.

Emery picked me up as soon as the shoot ended; she was excited to host her friends, as she called them. She loved her job and the passion she had for it was intoxicating in the best way possible. We ate dinner together, she introduced me to a few people, and everyone once in a while, she'd get up to greet people at the door. 

We had made dessert and as I walked to the kitchen to take it out of the fridge, a ginger-haired girl bumped into me, mumbled an apology, and rushed out the backdoor. I didn't think much of it as there were many models here with red hair. Clearly, I should have. 

When Emery told me she was going to have me meet someone else, I complied and waited for her. Alexa walking in the door was a shock, to say the least. She was the last person I wanted to think of. I knew being in Emery's arms would hurt her but I didn't let it stop me. However, her words over the rest of the night cut a lot deeper than I'd hoped they would. Yes, I was with another girl, but it's not like Alexa and I were ever anything. It hadn't been too long since the restaurant disaster where I confessed my love to her, so her anger at seeing me with another girl was understandable, however, I did not care. 

Emery drove me back home shortly after Alexa left, and we sat and talked for a bit. She was confused, so I did my best to explain the situation. Ultimately she sided with me and kissed me on the cheek before leaving. She was the definition of a gentlewoman. Something Alexa hasn't been.