Eileen’s reply is prompt as usual.Aw, no problem! I’m back in town tonight, want to grab coffee tomorrow?
I meet her at the same Starbucks, and she seems genuinely happy to see me. We sit outside to enjoy the last of the comfortable late-spring air before summer hits, chatting about surface-level stuff.
Then she says, “Hey, I… I don’t want to pry or anything, but I want you to know I’m always here for you, if you need it.”
“Yeah. Thank you, I… I really appreciate it.”
“How did it go?” she asks quietly.
I’m pretty sure that other than Morgan, she’s the only one who knows I wasn’t really sick.
“I mean, it was…” I struggle for a word, then finally shrug. “Perfect. In every way.”
Eileen scans my face. “Sometimes Mor just needs… space. If you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, that… that makes sense.” I scrape the edge of my coffee cup with my thumbnail. The sage and flower gel polish is due to be removed, well grown out and starting to lift at the edges. It’s the only evidence left of the time I spent with Morgan, and soon it’ll be gone too.
Eileen leans closer, her conspiratorial tone pulling me out of my head. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
I glance up, not quite daring to read into the words. “Really?”
“Yeah. So… give her time. That’s my two cents.”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure I believe Eileen, but… I appreciate that she has my back. “And thanks for meeting me today.”
“So formal,” Eileen says with a teasing scrunch of her nose.
“I just… I appreciate you taking the time.”
“Well, I can’t function without my caffeine. Same time tomorrow?”
Surprise ripples through me, followed by a gentle warmth. “Oh, sure.”
“Coffee buddies,” Eileen says, cheers-ing my latte.
I think this means Eileen and I are friends now for real.
So no matter what, at least there’s that.
#
Another week passes. Two. Three. I appreciated what Eileen said, but… I don’t think Morgan is going to reach out.
I’ve moved on, I think. Kind of. I don’t teeter on the verge of tears every time I think about her, so that’s progress.
I call my doctor and adjust my suppressant dose to make doubly sure I won’t go into heat again. I’ll eventually have to plan a tolerance break, now that I know the long-term effects of suppressant usage, but… not now. Not for a while.
The bonded pair of cats is still at the shelter, and I check their listing every day. Part of me feels like getting cats is admitting that we’re not going to go finish the trip, that Morgan won’t whisk me away again.
I put it off for another two weeks, and then I cave. Mom helps me get things set up and brings Vance along. He’s a total cat guy, and he helps me pick out a big, sturdy cat tree.
“Those little carpet things just don’t cut it,” he explains patiently. “They need a safe place up high to hide away and keep an eye on things. You would too if you were a tenth the size of your roommates.”
I see why Mom likes him. He’s calm with a dry sense of humor, and he clearly adores her.
Egg and Bacon settle right in. Their meowing for dinner and erratic racing around the living room at two AM quickly become part of my daily routine.
Just like that, it’s been almost three months since the trip.
