Free Morning Glory - A Novelette by S.L. Scott

Morning Glory
     
    I always thought I’d be married by twenty- five —so much for the fairy tale ending. As I take a sip of wine, I glance at my watch for the fifth time this hour. “It’s been two days, nineteen hours, and forty-seven minutes since I last heard from Alejandro.”
    “Let him go, Hayley. And it’s official. You’ve crossed the line from sad to pathetic,” Nick says, smirking.
    I twist my long blonde hair up into a hair band on top of my head before stretch ing my legs across the couch and hogging all the space. Then I hold my glass in the air and say, “Wine me.” He does, topping my glass off with the last of the Pinot Grigio. We usually have beer while watching the college bowl games, but this year is different because of my recent breakup . I thought wine would complement my whine better. “So, I’m pathetic now?”
    He smiles because he knows I like those better than his smirks. They’re softer, more personal. Holding my feet up off of the couch, he sits down then places them on his lap. “Knowing the days and hours is bad enough, but when you start tracking minutes, you’ve crossed into obsessive… or maybe de pressive. I’m still undecided.”
    I notice how his hair falls over his forehead when he laughs. His brown hair has grown out a little, and it reminds me of how he wore in college. But tonight is not about how good he’s looking as he lives the high life as a single man these days. Tonight is apparently about me being pathetic post break-up, so I delve into that subject again because I like to torture my self-esteem that way. “Y ou’re undecided if I’m obsessed or depressed?” I close my eyes while I balance my glass on my stomach. It almost tips, so I hold it in place.
    He rubs his hand up my leg and slides it over my hip. Then he takes my glass and his and sets them on the coffee table . “Scoot.”
    I do, and he lies down next to me. Once he settles, I rearrange my body against his and rest my head in the crook of his arm.
    “He’s your ex now, Hay. When will you at least admit it to yourself?”
    I don’t like it when he forces an issue. “I’m not ready to admit it. He’s just…” I stop to think of what I’m trying to say. “He’s making a mistake.”
    “I think you are. He wasn’t worth the six months you gave him and his cheating on you proves that point. Why would you want to waste any more time on him?”
    “Nick,” I say, my tone firm. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
    “Why not?”
    When I sit up, I keep my back to him and say, “Because I know how you feel about him and where you stand on the matter. We’ll end up arguing, going round in the same circles we always do, and I don’t want to do that. I’m tired.”
    There’s a long silence that separates our thoughts and our bodies. He whispers, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I feel his hand on the back of my neck , and he gently caresses. He’s comforting me, and it works. It always does. I can’t stay mad at him. “Half-time’s over. Lie back down with me?”
    I maneuver silently back into my spot, and he drapes his arm over my waist again. We clasp hands and go back to watching two college teams that neither of us usually cheer for, but watch because it’s our tradition.
     
    * * *
     
    All weekend I’d dreaded Monday . N ow here it i s all sunshiny with birds singing outside my window , as if I had n’t been devastated just a few nights ago. New Year’s Eve was three nights ago to be exact, when I was still one half of a couple. But I’m not one half of anything anymore. With reality sinking in, I roll out of bed, open the curtains, and start my day.
    Walking into the newsroom two hours later, I greet the guard and receptionist like I do every morning and hope that neither can see behind the mask of false happiness I’m wearing. If they do, I appreciate that they don’t say anything.
    I scan the board for breaking news and headlines then walk