38. Morgan
Chapter 38
Morgan
E arly Monday afternoon, I walked out of the software company’s headquarters and breathed in the misty Yorkshire air. It was colder here, and the slight nip made me feel awake and alive in a way I never did back home. There were trendy cafes, cute bookshops, and photogenic corners galore. As I sat in the window of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe for lunch, I couldn’t help but pull out my tablet and draw the streets and alleyways whilst I waited for my food.
The interview had gone really well. The Head of Design had shown me around the office, giving me a chance to meet the rest of the team. One of the other designers had shown me the tools they used, and I’d even seen their design pipeline with all of the projects coming up. It was no wonder they needed someone; the queue was even longer than what I’d seen at the charity. And importantly, they seemed like nice people. Easy to get along with.
I pulled out my phone without even thinking about it, pulling up my messages with Jack as if to tell him about the interview. I hadn’t spoken to him since the gala; it was the longest we’d gone without seeing each other since we got together, and the longest we’d gone without so much as a text since months before that. I stared at the last message between us – him letting me know he was on his way to the gala, and me reacting with a thumbs up – and wondered if he was just giving me space, or if he was waiting for me to make the first move. He’d sent a meme yesterday in the Wench Please chat, but nothing to me directly. I thought about messaging him to see how things were going, but then my food arrived, and I tucked into my soup and sandwich instead.
As I ate my lunch, I pulled up a quick search of flats in the area. Where the pickings back home had been slim at best, there was a lot more on offer here, and for a lot less money. I even found a charming little one-bedroom with exposed brick and an arched window, mentally furnishing it as I scrolled through the pictures. It was even pet friendly, and I pictured Pablo curled up in front of the giant window, basking in the sun.
I was only up for the day, so after lunch I started my walk back to the train station. At least I’d be back in time for D after missing last week’s session, I was craving it. That was one thing I’d need to figure out if I moved here; maybe there was a local gaming club or something? Or maybe, like Jared, I’d find someone at work who played. That was how I’d found my current game, after all.
As I got closer to the travel interchange, I saw signs and adverts for some of the local attractions: a deer park, ghost tours, the minster, and even day trips out to Whitby and the Yorkshire coast. I started to imagine what kind of person I’d be if I lived here: the kind to go on weekend excursions, and shop at places like Seasalt instead of Next, and appreciate the world around her a little bit more. I immediately felt a pang of sadness at the idea of living far away from my friends – from our Monday night games, especially – but surely being on my own would motivate me to spread my wings, right? I would finally be in a place in life where I wouldn’t be living according to someone else’s agenda. My own place, a job I chose for myself because I wanted it, in a new, exciting city. It sounded ideal.
Except I wouldn’t have Jack. I might still “have” him, if he didn’t break up with me over the fights we’d already had. But he wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t get to wake up next to him. Go for Pablo walks with him. We’d spend all our spare time on trains back and forth to see one another, and trying to catch up on one another’s lives, and none of it actually being together.
Five weeks didn’t seem like a lot; I knew that. It sounded brand new. If someone else had told me they had been dating someone for five weeks, I would have mentally filed that under “barely together”. But it hadn’t felt that way with Jack and me. Five weeks – after months of dancing around each other, anyway – had felt like the first steps into something big. Something life-changing. Maybe even something permanent. And to roll back all of that time, all of that progress, because our friend’s boyfriend dumped her? It felt unfair.
But I knew it wasn’t just the breakup; it was their whole situation. I’d never found their arrangement particularly appealing, even when we’d thought everything was fine.
As I sat down at a table on my train home, my vision of who I could be started to unravel. After all, I was only the brave, adventurous version of myself because of Jack, right? Because he’d pushed me? So who would I be if I pushed him away? And would that make things worse, or possibly be for the best?
For a moment I thought about texting Cara, but she’d missed so much context over the last few months that I knew she wouldn’t understand. I thought I’d grieved that friendship already, but I felt a fresh sting as I realised I had no one to speak to about this other than the friends I shared with Jack. I’d have to muscle through it on my own.
I put on my headphones and pulled up my Daylist, and just as I pressed play, a notification appeared at the top of the screen. It was a message from Jack:
Can we talk after the game tonight?
I was so relieved he’d been the one to break the seal, and I texted back before I could even think about my response:
Yes. I’ll be there.
And as soon as I finished sending it, another notification popped up, this one from my email. Just above a still-unread update from my mum was one from the software company. Already?
Attached was the second job offer letter I’d received in as many business days.
Suddenly York Morgan was nowhere to be seen. If she’d been the one reading the offer, surely I would have been over the moon, right? Ready to go on a brand new adventure; carpe the diem and all that jazz. But it was Real Life Morgan reading the letter, and all she wanted was to go hide away in her house with her dog and her lover.
But none of those things were mine . Certainly not the house and the dog, and the lover was tenuous at best. And as scared as Real Life Morgan felt, she needed to grow up. She needed to refuse to stay stuck in Jack’s little world of safety, and focus on building a life she could actually call her own, whether that included him or not.
* * *
I got back with just enough time to change before heading to Fatima’s; I didn’t really fancy answering questions about why I was dressed like I was cosplaying as a girlboss. But as I came up the road, I saw a group of three people huddled at the front door to the house. At first I wondered if maybe it was my friends, or even Cara’s parents, but then I remembered that there was supposed to be a viewing today. It should have been over hours ago, but maybe, since I’d told Cara’s mum I’d be out all day, they’d rescheduled it.
I slowed as I got closer, not sure whether to try to go inside with them standing there or just keep going. In the end I decided to loiter out by the street, sitting down on the kerb as if I were waiting for someone to pick me up. I was definitely going to be late now.
I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could get away with watching them, but the middle- aged woman dressed – well, like I was, actually – was looking almost directly at me. I recognised her as the estate agent from the online listing, and from the emails Cara’s mum had forwarded; Paula, I was pretty sure her name was. She was speaking to a young couple, who looked not much older than Jack and me. The fact that anyone my age was in a position to buy the house I’d been renting made me feel a bit sick.
“I mean, I think we’d want to do quite a bit to it,” the man said. “It desperately needs a cellar conversion, and we’d want to apply for a drop kerb for a driveway.”
I imagined the overgrown front garden being paved over for this guy’s car, and I almost turned around to tell them about the red clover and spotted orchids they’d have to kill to do it. But I bit my tongue and continued to listen to all the apparent shortcomings of my beloved house.
“I reckon we go in twenty below asking,” the man’s partner said. “It’s been on the market long enough to warrant that, I’d say.”
Good , I thought. Let them low-ball and get turned down. They don’t deserve it. But as I watched them leave and walk hand-in-hand down the street, I had a sinking feeling in my gut.
The estate agent didn’t leave right away though, so I stayed still on the pavement whilst I waited for her to go. Instead, she seemed to make a phone call.
“Oh hi, it’s Pauline,” she said.
Oh right, Pauline.
“Well, I’ve got an offer for you… It’s not quite at asking, no, it’s actually twenty below… Yes, well, we knew this was a risk with it having been on the market for so long with no price drops… I can’t advise you on that of course, but I was pleased to receive it, yes… Do you need some more time?… Oh, that’s great! I’ll get the ball rolling as soon as I’m back to the office. Congratulations from all of us.”
I sat frozen as I heard the tap-tap of low heels come down the front path and then out the gate, which clicked shut. But even once Pauline was around the corner and out of sight, I couldn’t quite bring myself to move.