by Combs, Sasha
“Okay little lady, if you want to show your ugly side, then two can play that game and I play to win.”
Pamela marched in the direction of the cabin, taking the steps one by one until she finally stood on the porch. Her hand lay on the doorknob, and it dawned on her that Morgan could have very well locked her out of the cabin once William had left. Her palms grew wet over this thought. She didn’t even know if the door could be locked with a key. Pamela couldn’t recall if William had used anything to open the door when they arrived at the cabin. He raced inside to fast, leaving the rest of them outdoors, like dust in his wake. Then her memory lent light to her recollection. The scenario she was recounting had occurred at the first cabin. When they arrived here, Pamela had been at his side. She wondered how she could have forgotten so quickly. So much had occurred in such a small window of time, even now her brain dared to test her memory. In the big scheme of things, the order of events weren’t all that important.
Resting her hand on the knob, she slowly turned it. Relief coursed through every cell in her body, she didn’t hear the spinning of tumblers associated with a locking mechanism. Then she recalled, the old fashion bolt located on the door inside. But her heart rate slowed when the door didn’t resist her push, and easily opened, allowing her to come inside.
When Pamela walked inside of the cabin, she accepted that she would have to think of numerous contingencies. The most important thing would be to keep the emergency phone on her at all times and when the phone was charging, she would watch it as if it were the most precious commodity on earth. She could never allow her guard to slip while at the cabin with Morgan. She wasn’t sure how far the girl would go to demonstrate her feelings. As Pamela looked around the space, she heard rustling noises in the loft. She peered up to where the ladder sat leaned up against the opening, and to her surprise her eyes were met by Morgans’. The girl had been spying on her from the moment she walked inside of the cabin. At first Pamela was unnerved by this, then a powerful feeling of triumph overtook her. Again, Morgan was choosing not to ignore her. Pamela was banking on one thing that she’d always believed. If a person held no true emotions for another person, then it would be easy to pay them little attention. On the other hand, if a person warred with emotions of hate, love or trust; the battle could only go one of two ways. If the emotion’s win out and they want to resolve their feelings; then a confrontation would be in order to set matters straight. This is the outcome Pamela was hoping for, because the other possibility could spell disaster for all that she hoped for. If the feelings that trouble a person are to great to deal with and the person chooses to cage the emotions so as not to deal with them; then this scenario could end with a person refusing to come to grips with their anguish. Instead, they move on with their lives pretending that their protagonist doesn’t exist in their world. This outcome was the most dangerous of the two because the affects were very similar to the actions of an eraser. Pamela couldn’t allow Morgan to pretend that she didn’t exist because witnessing this kind of offense would be to difficult for William to live with. As much as she wanted this confrontation with Morgan, Pamela still wanted to be acknowledged. The idea of being brushed off like some kind of obscure imperceptible afterthought; this notion sent waves of fear down her spine. Because the truth was that, she liked Morgan and she wanted to have a real relationship with her, not this ongoing battle. Two orbiting bodies that don’t collide won’t make a family, and simply agreeing to coexist while waving a white flag of surrender; this isn’t the kind of home life that William deserves to have. So, what would be the answer? Should Morgan be sent away to remain at boarding school, only to come home for short stays and never longer than a weekend? She cringed at the thought of this.
Pamela wanted to wind back the clock, setting everything back in its rightful place, where everything and everyone belonged. With the only added difference being the few changes made by her and William being married and the baby that would be born. O how wonderful her world would be if it was only that simple.
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Chapter 7
Crossroads
After staying at the cabin for three days and two nights, Pamela was beginning to miss amenities that could only be found at Barn Wood Hudson. At times the name of the oversized house would roll off her tongue like cotton candy, teasing her with thoughts of luxuries. But like the stroke of a paint brush, Pamela would cover those images with thoughts reminding her of the reason’s she’d willingly decided to be at the cabin. Then, as she would recall her purpose, Pamela would tell herself that she didn’t mind being out in the middle of nowhere. This miniature fix would cover the bare spots in her conscience, whenever she questioned the wisdom in what she was doing. That is until her bare rump would feel the chill from the metal seat covering the hole in the ground. Pamela would leave the confined space, wishing for the simplest of things, like the convenience of having a gas powered generator. But they didn’t have one and she told herself that there wasn’t one coming either. All that they had was already here and she would have to learn to contend with that reality.
Yesterday, when the men left on their way to the nearest cabin, the day had passed without incident. Morgan had remained in the loft, only coming down to trek across the grounds to make use of the outhouse, when she needed it. Meal times had been a little odd. Pamela worked her magic by using the assortment of canned vegetables, fruits and meats to make them what amounted to tasty meals. Morgan would climb down the ladder when the meal bell was rung to eat all that had been prepared. The young girl didn’t mind eating food that had been prepared for her by her nemesis but that’s as far as her bending would go. She drew the line when it came to sharing a table with the woman she blamed for dumping dung over her perfect world. Pamela recognized the slight for what it was, but she didn’t allow this outward gesture to affect her in the least. Morgan’s tactless way to exert her will, didn’t land the knockout blow that she’d been aiming to accomplish. Pamela accepted her choice and was glad when she didn’t return to the loft, choosing to eat her food in her sanctum. On one occasion, at lunch time, Morgan had taken her plate outdoors, to eat her meal on the cabins porch. When it was time for dinner, he sat alone in a corner furthest from Pamela but not one word was passed between the two of them. Sharing the same space was the only sign that expressed their predicament. Pamela wouldn’t push, at least that’s what she told herself. The time for pushing had not come yet.
After a restful night, Pamela had been praying for a sign that would instruct her how to break through Morgan’s distrustful wall. Pamela had slept peacefully and she’d hoped that the nights rest was her omen. However, when the sun rose over the height of the soaring trees, Morgan’s misguided antics were much the same as the day before. Even though she’d accepted what her day would be like, Pamela knew that her actions would be quite different from the previous days. She started her morning by talking to the young girl, even when it was evident by her silence that Morgan had no intentions to respond to any of her questions.
After eating her lunch, Morgan stood up, leaving the front room with purpose. She marched across the wood planked floor, heading towards the only door in the cabin. Pamela rose from her seated spot to follow her because she didn’t trust that she wouldn’t runoff without telling her where she was going. Especially after Morgan had been forced to listen to Pamela’s incessant babbling, nonstop with no end in sight.
Morgan stumped down the wooden porch, marching in the direction of the outhouse. She hated being followed and she dreaded being watched. She could hold her urine for a very long time. Earlier, she’d demonstrated this. In spite of that, she saw no need to keep torturing herself by enduring the pain coming from her overextended bladder. As she pounced her small feet on leaves and an assortment of seeds, rocks and dirt; she could still hear Pamela’s ramblings in the tunnel of her ear. She’d had professors who talked less than this woman. As much as she wanted to scream, to make Pamela stop, Morgan didn’
t. Screaming would hint that she was listening. She couldn’t give Pam that kind of satisfaction.
As her pace quickened, Morgan could hear the sound of feet following behind her. This sound sent her temper soaring higher than the tallest trees surrounding the cabin’s grounds.
“I don’t need you watching me while I pee.” She spat in an angry voice.
Pamela ignored her snide remark and she didn’t stop following her. Morgan was alternating her glare between the direction she was headed in, and over her shoulder to peer back at Pamela. When she misjudged her next step, she felt herself falling before she could do anything to stop this forward motion.
Pamela witnessed her miscalculation. She’d seen the log that Morgan had planted her foot unsteadily on. Before she could say anything to warn her, Morgan was already tumbling down to the forest floor.
“Morgan...” she said, when she ran to help her up. Pamela extended her hand, but Morgan slapped it out of her face.
She pulled herself to her feet using her own power. A sharp pain coursed on her face, burning across her lip. With a steady hand, she covered the lower portion of her face, then continued on her way. She was using her palm as camouflaged to hide the blood that she knew streamed from the lower half of her face. Morgan’s face ached due to her chin taking the brunt of her fall. The arch of her neck had been the only thing that kept her face from slamming down first. The only problem was that a sharp object sticking up had pierced a pinhole opening in the underside of her lip. All day she had wanted to use her mouth to spit miserable things, contradicting Pamela’s words but all she’d given her was the back of her body or a void caused by her remaining in the loft. Not once had she said a word and now she believed the fall had been karma’s way of paying her back. As the blood puddled in the palm of her hand, she resolved that dodging kismet was impossible so she wouldn’t try. For the first time, Morgan questioned if perhaps, she was the one who was wrong in this dilemma. Maybe the problem lie at her doorstep and not Pamela’s because injury had boomeranged back around to her and not Pam.
When she reached the outhouse, Morgan tugged at the door, then she stepped inside. First things first, she would have to stop the bleeding from her injured lip. But she dreaded doing this in the dirtiest place on the property. She liked her lips and she didn’t want to lose them due to a roaring infection caused by a rare form of outhouse bacteria.
Morgan spoke loud enough to be heard beyond the wooden door.
“Pamela...my lip is bleeding. I need a clean towel to apply pressure on the cut.”
Pamela’s first instinct was to pull the door open to assess the injury for herself but something told her that Morgan had locked the door on the other side the moment she entered.
“Morgan...use your shirt for now.” Pam felt the pulse in her neck beating rapidly. She wondered what William would say once he saw his injured daughter. Then she questioned if she could have prevented the fall. When Morgan didn’t answer, Pamela became silent. She listened for sounds to indicate that the young girl was using the outhouse. She told herself to maintain her calm because taking care of the bodies functions can’t be stopped. Especially when the brain senses that a place to relieve itself is so near.
“Morgan...” Pamela couldn’t hear anything coming from the small space. She wondered if Morgan had passed out due to a head injury.
As her hand extended to test the door, she heard the sound of the wooden latch with it moved from it’s stayed position. Morgan walked out using a wad of toilet paper as a makeshift bandage. Pamela had not thought of that and she praised the girl’s quick thinking.
“That’s a good idea Morgan...but we still need to clean out the wound to prevent infection. There’s a first aid kit in the cabin.”
Morgan didn’t say anything, she just held the padding to her face, then nodded to indicate that she understood. Truth be told, Morgan was in shock. Her mind had raced with all the possibilities that could have occurred due to her falling. She knew that she had no one to blame but herself if she ended up looking like Quasimodo. Coming to the cabin had been her idea and no one else. Morgan fought hard not to tear up when her brain raced back to the moment she bravely acted on that decision.
When they walked inside of the cabin, Pamela hastily went to retrieve the first aid kit. When she returned, she found Morgan seated at the table, still holding the bandage that she’d wisely concocted.
“I’ll need to see the damage.” She said. Pamela cringed due to her poor taste in words. Young girls could be just as vain as older women. She was quite sure Morgan feared her face had suffered an altering blow. She didn’t want her to be concerned over something that could easily be corrected. More so, she didn’t want Morgan blaming herself for the fall.
When Morgan’s hand still lay against her chin, Pamela placed her hand on top of hers, then she slowly guided her hand until it lie resting on the table with the wad of toilet paper pinched between her fingers. Leaning directly in her face, Pamela squinted her eyes to assess the damage. As best as she could determine, the small hole had bled a significant amount but the opening was small and would heal, leaving no noticeable lasting evidence. As she pulled back, Pamela studied the size of her lips. Morgan’s small mouth was made up of thin lips that reminded her of Bianca. Her thin mouth was perfect for her features but the fall had increased the size making her lips full and puffy. With an upturn of her lips, Pamela smiled. She imagined, this is what Morgan’s mouth would look like if ever she tested her luck with plastic surgery. The look suited her but this wasn’t something a young teen would want to hear. Morgan would need to be told that her looks were intact and she didn’t need to fear over any disfigurement.
“Morgan...we don’t have any ice to help with the swelling but I don’t see anything that should change your looks. The bleeding was a lot but the source is very small and the opening shouldn’t leave a scar.”
Pamela cleaned the area while she talked. She noticed how Morgan sat as still as a statue. Since her chin had taken the brunt of the fall and currently she was cleaning and bandaging near this area; Pamela assumed that this was the reason Morgan wasn’t talking. After she’d finally finished and the girl looked like she’d been bandaged by a girl scout; Pamela sat back in her chair to examine her handy work.
“I think that’ll do for now. I’ll change the bandage in the morning. We’ll need to keep the wound heal to ward off infection.”
Morgan nodded, then stood from her seat. Pamela’s eyes followed her as she pushed back her chair, then headed for the ladder leading up to the loft. It was the oddest thing to witness and Pamela wanted to say something that would stop her. But she didn’t because she imagined that perhaps Morgan needed this time alone to reflect on what had just occurred. It wasn’t a milestone, but she’d allowed Pamela to touch her. Sure, her touch had been strictly necessary if the wound was to be attended to...but a touch was a touch.
Later that evening, when Pamela called out to announce that dinner was ready, she didn’t hear a sound coming from the loft. Normally Morgan’s rustling with her clothing or the one book that she’d brought with her to read could be heard but on this occasion, there was only silence. When Morgan had climbed into the loft, Pamela had not followed her. The place that hung over the bottom half of the cabin had been deemed as Morgan’s space. Pamela would not invade it. Yet now, she no longer trusted this wisdom. She wasn’t a nurse but Pamela knew that some hits to the head may not show the full extent of an injury. She questioned if perhaps her silence had something to do with having a concussion. If that were true, Morgan could be lying in her bed unconscious and unable to respond. Pamela wouldn’t take any chances with Morgan’s health, even if that meant encroaching on her privacy.
Pamela climbed the steps cautiously, her curiosity peaking with each upward climb. She’d never seen the loft and William’s description was all she had in her head. Once her head reached the top, she noticed that the area was larger than she’d expected. In portions of the room, the
ceiling sloped at an angle and she tried to imagine William bending low to prevent his head from colliding with the boards that held up the ceiling. There was a desk with a chair pushed up to it in a corner. Two medium size windows were positioned on either side of the bed. She wondered why she’d not considered the lighting up here, then she reminded herself that this room had a rear view and she had not seen the back of the cabin. There simply had not been any reason to.
As Pamela approached the bed, she noticed the blanket covering Morgan. It rose and fell with an even pattern, making her know that at a minimum the young girl was breathing. Now with that checked off on her mental list of life functions, she needed to determine if her cognitive abilities had been affected by the fall.
Pamela lowered herself to sit on the side of the bed. When she placed her hand on Morgan’s shoulder, immediately the girl startled to a wide awake sitting position. Her eyes darted around the room, as if the place had been invaded by headhunters.
“Morgan...it’s only me. I called you for dinner and when you didn’t answer...”
“I’m not hungry.” She said with a blank stare. Morgan looked as if she were peering straight through Pamela’s body. As if at any moment, she could tell her what her insides looked like. Seeing her like this frightened Pam and she wasn’t convinced that Morgan had not inflicted more damage on herself. An injury her eyes would never see without the aid of an X-ray or an MRI.
“Morgan...please. Come downstairs and sit with me. The light is better down there. My concerns would be relieved if you would allow me to get a closer look at you.”
Morgan lay on the bed, pulling the blanket back over her shoulder, the way she’d covered herself earlier. This time when she answered Pamela, her voice held no life. It was simply devoid of any feeling.
