Free Megan's Way by Melissa Foster Page A

about women’s inability to
get men and their constant wrongdoings, Holly would soothe his hurt
soul, knowing that Peter’s own mother had left him and his father
when Peter was only five years old. Her loving touch had a way of
soothing even the angriest of souls.
     
     
    Megan and Holly’s schedules had often
conflicted, leaving little time for each other. Even as roommates
they had felt as though they bumped in the night rather than spent
any quality time together, which was why they had begun their
weekly roommate dates.
    They had met faithfully every Tuesday and
Thursday at the local coffee shop that doubled as a literary nook,
the Women’s nest. Originally opened as a gathering place for women
in the 1970s, the Women’s nest was quickly infiltrated by the
opposite sex, who, rightly so, knew it was an ideal place to meet
women.
    Peter had slipped his way into those private
meetings and seamlessly become an intimate part of their weekly
get-togethers, and therefore, their lives. The Women’s nest offered
coffee and baked goods. The walls were lined with shelf after shelf
of donated books that the patrons could read while relaxing in the
oversized armchairs and fluffy sofas. Music played in the
background, as warm and soothing as the soft hues of the walls.
    It had been during those weekly gatherings
that their friendship had blossomed and wrapped its roots around
them until they could practically read each other’s thoughts. They
helped each other pick up the pieces of many fallen relationships
and failed exams. The three of them were each other’s lifelines.
Why, Megan wondered, wasn’t she confiding in them now, at her most
fearful moment?
    Megan was lost in thought when she felt
Peter’s hand on her arm. “Meg? Hello?”
    She shook her head, “Sorry.” She smiled. A
funny feeling came over her—not one of sickness, but a feeling of
being lost, confused, as if she were standing amidst smoke and
clouds, and not sure where she was. She grabbed Peter’s arm, unsure
if she was going to lose her footing.
    “Meg? What is it?” he asked. Fear stretched
across his face as Megan lowered herself to the floor. He wrapped
his arm protectively around her. “Meg, what is it? Are you
okay?”
    Megan’s eyes stared straight ahead. She
struggled for the right words. “It’s…It’s not me. It’s Olivia.” Her
limbs tingled, her chest ached.
    “Livi? What? What is it?” Peter’s words rush
out.
    “I don’t know. There’s no pain. It’s like
she’s…lost or something.” She shook her head as the feeling faded.
“It’s probably nothing. She’s at school. We had a fight the other
night. I’m probably just worrying too much.”
    “You guys have such a strange connection,
Meg. Are you sure she’s okay? Do you want me to run over to the
school and make sure?” Peter took Megan’s hand.
    “No. She’s fine.” Megan smiled as the feeling
dissipated, lingering just enough to make the hair on the back of
her neck stand up. Megan laughed, “How on earth did she and I
become so connected?”
    “She was inside of you! of course you
are connected!” Peter said.
    “Yeah, but you were inside your mother, and…”
her words hung in the air like dirty laundry.
    Peter’s face strained.
    “I’m so sorry,” Megan said quickly. “That
wasn’t meant to hurt you, just to make a point. I mean, really,
mothers and their children usually don’t feel things for
each other!”
    Peter’s face softened. “I know, Meg, no hard
feelings.”
    He took a deep breath, and said, cheerily,
“It is weird. You’re just a freak, I guess, and I’m just used to
it. I’m surprised you aren’t.”
    “I didn’t even feel anything weird until two
days after she was born, until after Holly’s baby—” she turned
away, unable to finish the sentence.
    The silence between them was filled with
grief from long ago. Megan busied her hands organizing her brushes,
and Peter gazed out the window. When he felt the sorrow