"—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed"

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𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

I'm coughing and generally feeling like a cold's coming on, Morgan, too, but I don't let it ruin the day.

It's the big day. Finally, right? Jesus Christ, I couldn't wait to get out of Penshaw!

Of course, though, my parents can't bear to part with me even after twenty-five years. So, I gave them the job of driving our vehicles and U-Hauls to New York that way they'd already be there once we land since our non-stop flight is only about four hours. Since I didn't want them to have a key, though, they're staying in a hotel near Main Street while they wait.

Cleo left for her flight much earlier than Morgan and I. She hasn't called or left me a dozen texts so I figure she's fine.

Morgan's been upset since we left for the airport this morning. No, since the going away party last night, actually.
She hasn't talked much and when she does, it's short and temperamental.

"Are you okay?" I ask her after we depart.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answers, taking a seat on the public bench. "my head just hurts a little."

I wonder if that's just an excuse but don't voice it.

Instead, I offer my body for Morgan to lean on while we wait and let her know that she'll be able to rest soon.

"Why do we always match at the airport?" she laughs, noticing our grey sweatpants and pullover sets. I lazily pose for a video she's recording that I already knew was going straight to Jasmine and her Instagram story.

I chuckle to answer her question. "Because you copy me."

Time passes and I find my body aching more and more.

"I don't feel good." I say out loud, concerning Morgan.

"You're just tired," she says, bringing her arms around my neck and shoulders.

Morgan kisses my temple and says, "When we get to our new home you can rest-"

I don't mean to, but I shut her idea down with a quickness that makes her frown.

"I have stuff to do." The hesitation is long and breathy, I know she caught it and thinks I'm lying.

Thankfully, my parents pull up, yet for some reason, it's Mom driving Morgan's new white 2021 Lexus IS 350 F Sports car. A gift she bought herself with the dead man's money. I don't blame her for splurging, her Camry was shit and she deserved something nice after months of dealing with him.

"Hiiii!" My mother screams with excitement, parking the car.

I'm also thankful my girlfriend and mother have such a great relationship because it distracts Morgan from bringing up my plans for later that don't include her in or my parents.

Dad gets out of the passenger seat and hugs Morgan before helping her with the one suitcase and backpack she had.
He then greets me with a hug and a "you don't look so good."

"Yeah, I know." I grumble, getting in the backseat like a little kid.

"What was wrong with Precious?" I complain about my Durango once Mom pulls off.

"Eh," she shrugs, "I wanted to take the Lexus for a spin."

Forty minutes pass of Mom and Dad going on about why they love Port Ember and how much they've been enjoying their stay at The Sinclair, but we finally arrive on Main Street and I'm relieved to see my townhouse again. It looks even better in the month of March, Springtime, as opposed to the time I spent here in the winter.
Even more people were out in the neighborhood, walking by causally just living their lives, reminding me that I'm not the only one having an experience here on Earth.

That realization reminds me I should smoke to cure this random headache and pressure in my chest, but at half past noon, it's been a long day already so I blame it on that.

Morgan looks overwhelmed but in a more positive way. She smiles big and exclaims with my parents about how nice the townhouse is.

"This is really nice!" Morgan gushes at the exterior alone.

My family and I take it in but I can't wait another second.

"Why are you staring like you've never seen it before?" I laugh at my parents, pushing past their bodies.

I reach the door and I'm so impatient to get inside that I don't even think about Morgan at first, how big of a step this is for her - for us.

I dig in my pocket and retrieve my lanyard with the key on it.

"Come here." I gesture.

"Me?" Morgan looks around, unsure.

"Duh." I crack, beckoning her forward.

Morgan squeals and runs up all eleven stairs but gets too excited and trips on one without falling.
She's so cute I just have to laugh as she plays it off naturally.

"Whew, okay," she breathes deeply through her puckered lips. "I'm so nervy."

"Wait-" I speak up, suddenly remembering something.

I jog down the stairs and lift a plant in the bedded structure built into the stoop to reveal the spare key. Exactly where I left it.

Mom smacks her lips, nagging me about how that's "not a safe hiding spot for a house key."

I cut my eyes her way. "No one found it, did they?" I return, going back up to the front door.

I present Morgan with the key and she blows the soil off of it.

"I feel like I'm being proposed to." She giggles and my eyes widen at the mere mention of the word: proposed.

Within the next minute, Morgan pushes the black door open and runs inside.

"Wow," she mouths, spinning in a circle to take in the interior. "it's so beautiful. I actually hate that you lived here without me already, I'm so jealous!"

Dad hauls one of Morgan's bags in and let's us know that he's going to bring my truck around that's attached to the U-haul.

"It is very nice," Mom comments. "Do you like what he's done with it?"

I glare at her for instigating. Mom didn't care for the exposed brick, rugged look, but that's my style.

"Sure, sure, I don't care. I'm just happy to be here!" Morgan's mixed emotions on the move are giving me whiplash but I just accept it.

She runs into my body and gives me a squeeze, not letting go until my air supply almost cut off.

"Well, come on, give me a tour!" She exclaims, pulling me by the wrist in the direction of the black steel spiral staircase.

~~~

"—One more time, one more time." I hear Morgan playing choreographer still with my mother.

It's after six pm now and they already unloaded the U-haul, decorating the townhouse with small essentials from my last apartment.
Morgan had so many clothes and shoes she left them in boxes and bags in the guest room for tomorrow so she could just hang out with my family since it's their last night here.

"Ahh, I messed up again!" Mom roars. She beats herself up for missing a step and remedied it with a swallow of red wine.

"Okay, okay." She works herself up as Morgan's phone counts down.

Mom was so curious about TikTok and had Morgan show her some new dance trends or whatever the fuck.

Dad, on the other hand, catches me looking at my reflection in the mounted circular mirror and wonders where I'm going, drawing Mom and Morgan's attention.

"You're pretty dressed up for pizza night." Morgan tests me, walking forward with her arms folded.

I hang my head for a second, feeling bad for leaving her out of my plans and disregarding hers.

"I'm having dinner with Reuben and my boss, actually." I talk with my keys in my hands as if that will distract her from the words I'm saying.

Morgan's eyes scope my body head to toe. They're usually a beautiful aurora sky (blue) gray color, but in this moment, they're dark and studious.

"That's why your shoes are on the wrong feet." She was just teasing, I know it, but I look down at them anyway.

"Kidding," she hums, turning on the heels of her fuzzy socks. "have fun, be safe."

What did I expect, more of a fight? She doesn't like to argue and I don't want to, but that was easy.

Without stalling any longer, I wished them a good night and told Reuben I was on my way.

~~~

"—So I said I'll buy the whole thing!" Shawn Bowie, my boss, humors the table. By humors the table I mean he made Reuben laugh, I'm sitting here with a stuck facial expression.

The men look at me and I crack a grin just to look interested.

Reuben finishes his third glass of champagne and asks for another.

"So, Chris, how are you liking New York?" Asks Reuben.

I clear my throat before speaking since I haven't said anything in a while, Shawn was busy enjoying listening to himself speak. He's such a kiss ass and for no reason, Reuben's retiring.

"It's nice," I admit, sitting up. "real different from Colorado, but."

I start to cough and the men look concerned or uncomfortable, I can't tell, it's dark in the five star restaurant and they both only emote with their thick eyebrows.

"Nasty cough you got there," Shawn notes. "perhaps you should get that checked, could be the virus?"

I drink water to calm my cough and start to subtly laugh, remembering the lie I told him to get out of work before.

"Nah, nah," Reuben speaks up with his hardy voice. "that's just a smoker's cough; you know us Colorado men love us some ganja. Isn't that right, Christopher?" His rough hand pats the center of my back.

"Did someone say ganja?" A random man butts in our conversation as he approaches the table.

He's in a cardigan that had far too many patterns going on and a pair of ankle-length slacks, and thick Dad sneakers. His greying hair is long in a low ponytail, hanging like the glasses around his neck.

"That depends, are you some type of nark?" Shawn tests the man.

Every face is straight until they suddenly bust out laughing.

Reuben stands and slaps hands with the eccentric man.

"Russ, you son of a bitch, how the hell are ya?" Their greeting is so painfully privileged it makes me cringe. They just reek of wealth and entitlement.

"Russell Brown, do my eyes deceive me?" Shawn buttons his jacket as he stands to shake hands with this Russ character.

Rueben insists their old friend take a seat and he does.

"Gentleman, long time, no see. What's the occasion?" Russell's accent is one I can't really make out, sounds kind of German. I know that because he sort of talks like the doctor from 'Django.'

"Fisher here thinks he's retiring." Shawn makes known and isn't happy about it.

Rueben puts up a hand with a smug smile. "It's time. I've done all I want to do. I just want to go to Jamaica and, well, I won't tell you what I plan to do there." He cracks himself up. Ew.

"Cheers to you, then, I'm happy for you." Russ raises the extra glass set at the table.

I don't participate because my presence wasn't acknowledged.

Russell's blue eyes fall on me, though, and he looks captivated, actually.

"This must be your assistant?" He assumes, nudging Reuben who only cackles to himself.

"No, man, I'm-"

"I was only joking. I'm Russel Brown, call me Russ. And you?"

I relax. "Chris. Chris Vaughn."

"Chris works with me now." Shawn takes the credit, sitting up straight and with pride.

Russ nods his head slowly, eyes dawning on me. "Huh. Nice to meet you, Mr.Vaughn."

All of a sudden, I'm hit with a realization.

"Wait," I blink as I stammer through my words. "you're Russ Brown? You make cars, right?"

A smile slithers onto his pale face. "Electric cars, yes. What are you driving these days?"

I drop my neck and kind of laugh through my nose, ashamed to say, but I do. "A Dodge Durango."

Shawn and Reuben both grit and wince, shaking their heads.

"That gas guzzler?" Russ asks.

I scratch my head. "I like it."

"Hey," Russ speaks up, raising his glass to me. "that's all that matters, right?"

"Right..." I toast with him.

He takes a drink and pours another. "At Pyro, we make the best EV's actually. These guys paying you enough, you should invest in one?"

Shawn wrestles with Russ at his comment and I get some kind of different vibes from those two at first, but Shawn's just a kiss-ass.

"I trust Chris is paid handsomely there, right, Shawn?" Reuben says, giving me a wink.

"With his new promotion to a level two designer, absolutely!" Shawn boasts, looking between the other two men for validation.

Reuben sits back with a look of satisfaction. "That's what hard work does."

"Well, hard work and good looks." Shawn's laugh is just like the stereotypical rich white men that people despise or wish to be like - loud, obnoxious, hand on chest, and all teeth.

"What's that mean?" Reuben asks suspiciously.

Shawn dabs his mouth with the napkin from his lap and briefly glances at me before continuing to speak.

"This guy put a spell on my daughter a couple of months ago," Shawn spills and I start to choke. "she begged me to keep him under my lens and she was right, I couldn't not give him a raise."

"Well, he certainly deserves a lot more praise. These women, though, Chris. Tsk, tsk." Reuben rolls the palms of his fingers as he stares at me curiously.

I swallow hard and start to get a little disappointed with the direction this conversation is headed.

"I don't give a shit what spell you put on who," Russell proclaims, slapping his palm on the tabletop.
"I wonder if you're as good as these two pricks say you are."

I look up, my interest peaked.

Shawn and Reuben both keep their eyes on me and I don't crack.

"I'm trying to modernize, something urban, small, economically friendly and eccentric." Russ lists his wants for the home.

Shawn let's his eyes roll back as he swirls his drink. "Russ is competing with Elon Musk to see which rich, nerdy asshole can appeal to live more humbly."

"Meanwhile they both still live own mega-mansions and the only good they're doing for the environment is cracking a whip at a factory manufacturing electric cars." Reuben cracks.

Russ side-eyes the both of them. "Key words: electric cars."

"And anyway, no doubt Chris is great. Can he finish a project is the thing." Shawn jokes and I don't find it funny.

"So, Chris," he smirks, leaning in. "you can do that for me?"

"You got the money?" I return and he thinks I'm joking.

The men all laugh and then look at me with opportunity in their eyes.

~~~

I sit in the truck outside of my house a little longer just to wait for Cleo to respond.

She doesn't.

I lock my phone and walk around the truck to go up and unlock the door.

It's late, I hope my parents are gone and Morgan isn't awake, either. She needs to rest more than anyone.

In the kitchen looking for a snack since we skipped dessert, my phone starts to ring and I get hopeful, thinking it's Cleo.

My face falls, though, when I see it's an unsaved number. Must not be important, probably a scam, or some shit. But it's not the first time I'd seen that number call, I think. . .

I ultimately ignore the call and pop some pineapple chunks into my mouth before dragging my weight upstairs.

What a goddamn day.