Page 36 of Level Me Up

Chapter Twenty

Morgan

It’s Wednesday, and Dex is flying out tomorrow night with the team for a tournament. It’s the first time he will be traveling since we started dating, so I’m a little nervous about it. I’m doing nothing more than aimlessly wandering around, tidying the already clean apartment. I’m thinking about how boring my weekend is going to be since he won’t be here. Then my phone rings. The caller ID shows it’s my dad.

“Hey, Dad,” I answer.

“Hey kiddo, how are you doing?” He sounds happy. Hmm. Not that he isn’t allowed to be happy, but he normally just sounds tired. But then, I would be tired too, if I was a workaholic.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m pretty good. Work is keeping me busy, and I’ve decided to remodel the kitchen.”

“Uh, what? What’s wrong with the kitchen and how do you have time for that?” I ask as I scratch my head. I mean, he barely spends anytime at home, so why does he need to remodel the kitchen?

The unfamiliar sound of his laughter comes through the phone, “Nothing is wrong with the kitchen, Morgan. It’s just a project I’ve been wanting to start. Last weekend, I replaced the front door and installed new lighting over the entry way.”

What the hell? Who is this I am talking too? And what did he do with my dad?

I sit down at my desk and take a long, deep breath. “Dad, I’m really confused. You work eighty hours a weekat work.And then, when you are home, you work. The only time you’re not working is when you’re watching football. Why did we need a new door?”

He sighs, “Morgan, I know I’ve always worked a lot—”

“No. You started working a lot after mom died.” I hear a pained groan from his end when a thought occurs to me. “Wait. Do you have plans to—are yousellingMom’s…Dad! Tell me you are not selling the house.”

I find myself unprepared for this conversation. Him selling the house never crossed my mind so the panic rising up from my stomach through my chest is almost unbearable.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Oh my god, heisselling the house. I hear him take a deep breath.

“Morgan, kiddo. Calm down. I’m not selling the house. Well, not yet. But maybe someday soon. It’s just, you’re right. I don’t spend a lot of time here, and it has a lot of memories that I don’t really like to think about.”

A stray tear runs down my cheek, “You mean you don’t want to think about Mom anymore.” A whimper escapes me.

He swears under his breath, “No Morgan, it isn’t that. I think about all the good times we had in this house with your mom. All our memories of you growing up. But the painful ones are what cloud my vision when I’m in this house. I’m just ready to move on.”

I don’t bother trying to focus on everything he just said. I zero in on the last part. “What do you mean you are ready to move on?” I can tell by my voice that I’ve started to enter the “daughter is freaking out; father cannot compute” stage. “What are you telling me, Dad?!”

“Calm down, Morgan. I’m telling you that I’ll probably sell the house. I don’t know when, but I’m making some needed updates here and there for when the time comes.” He sighs. He’s back to his normal, tired tone when he speaks. “Look, kiddo, I’ve gotta run. I have a work call I need to take in a few minutes. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”

It’s my turn to sigh. This is typical of him, to back out of a conversation by bringing up work. It disappoints me, but it’s not a surprise. “I love you, Dad. Have a good call.”

“Love you too, kiddo. Tell the girls I said hi.” The phone goes dead.

I just stare off, focusing on nothing for who knows how long. Our phone calls are normally short; he always has some work…or thing he needs to do. We talk about nothing; I tell him about work or the girls. Whenever I bring up the topic of Dex, I can tell it makes him uncomfortable. We never, ever talk about Mom.

Great. Not only will I be stressed over missing Dex this weekend, but now I’ll have the added discomfort of this conversation, relentlessly replaying itself in my head. This weekend is going to suck.

A couple hours later, Gia comes home from the grocery store. I’m out in the living room watching Gilmore Girls reruns.

“Is that the episode where Dean gives Rory the car he built her?” Gia asks from the kitchen.

“Yup. I love Dean. He was always my favorite boyfriend.” I sigh.

“No way. Jess was the best. Bad boy writer,” she says. “Always thought he was perfect for Rory.”

“I guess we only agree on the fact that rich-boy Logan was a tool.”

She plops beside me on the couch. “So, you sound…bummed. Are you dreading this weekend?” She grabs the remote and turns down the volume a bit.

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