"The negative side of the American Dream comes when people pursue success at any cost, which in turn destroys the vision and the dream."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

"Oh, oh, oh!" Morgan gets excited suddenly.

She unfastens her seatbelt and points out of the window.

"We're here - the farm!" She exclaims, telling me to pull into the driveway.

"Well, there's the artwork." I notice, eyeing the suggestive graffiti on these people's fence.

There were drawings of bombs and the Indian woman hanging or being burned alive. It's a damn shame.

I made a mental note of that little gas station so I can remember to get the place torn down and that woman and her sons institutionalized.

"That's unsettling." Morgan mutters aside.

"Hello? Can I help you?" The brown woman outside stops us to ask.

"No, can I help you?" Morgan offers, giggling.

The woman drops her bucket full of soap water and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

"Morgan?!" She laughs with disbelief.

Morgan jumps out of the truck to hug the woman.

She has a red dot between her eyebrows and her dark brown hair all in one long braid down her small back.

"What are you doing here?" I listen to their conversation.

"You know how you said you wanted to return the favor?" Morgan winces, looking back at me in the truck.

~

"And this is where you'll be staying." Yara offers.

She leads the way further inside the rustic bedroom of the converted barn out back and lends a hand with Morgan's bags.

"I hope this is adequate enough." She says meekly.

I mean, it's a bit dated and country as hell, but I'm grateful. Shit, I'll take a free place to stay even if it's in some old barn.

"Yara, this is perfect. Thank you. Sorry for imposing like this." Morgan gives the woman a hug.

"Not imposing at all, we have the space and it's the least I can do. If I didn't get the kids anything to eat that day, I don't know what I would've done for the ride back. It's a four hour drive from the city, they would've been starving."

Shortly before arriving, I was briefly filled in on how Morgan met this lady, the story was very touching. That's why I love her, her compassion and generosity, it's unmatched.

Morgan smiles at Yara. "Yeah, where are they? Mina and Robbie, right?"

"Yes, good memory. They are with their father, playing by the stream. They'll probably be back before dark, we don't like to be out after sunset in this town."

"I'm sorry." I speak up to say. I know that's not easy,  especially when you're just trying to exist. Racism isn't something I've directly had to combat, but I do what I can to not be a part of the problem.

Yara just smiles like she's been doing this whole time and basically bows at me.

Morgan laughs out loud. "You don't need to do that, Yara. Really, he's not special." She gets Yara to laugh.

"Well, you two rest, and by the time you're settled, the kids and my husband will be back, and you can join us for dinner."

"Thank you so much, Yara." Morgan waves our host out and expresses her gratitude one final time.

I start to spray Lysol on the sheets and check for any rodents or insects. Luckily, there aren't any in sight, the place seems well-kept and suitable for a couple of nights.
Or, let's just hope it's only a couple of nights. . .

Once I peel back the sheets, I'm ready to climb into bed but then I remember that I can't get comfortable without Morgan.

I walk across the floor and wrap her body in my arms at the window.

She caresses me back and hums. "It's so nice out here. Well, minus the racists and mice."

I laugh quietly, my head on her shoulder. "Yeah. Look at Duke and Stevie, they love all of this open space."

"It's like the air is different here."

"Was this on your list of best places to raise a family? I saw it all on your computer - Nashville, Washington, California. Were you gonna run it by me?" I test Morgan.

She turns to face me for this and I prepare myself for this conversation.

"You know I don't like the city. New York just isn't for me, I've tried, baby, I have - for you. I've just been keeping my — our— options open."

I understand that and express it by nodding my head and relaxing my posture.

"What have you narrowed it down to?"

Morgan visibly gets excited that I'm at least interested in her list. She smiles big and goes to get her phone so she can go over her notes.

"Wait, if you're worried about anyone knowing where we are, we should turn our phones off." I suggest. Call me paranoid.

Morgan powers her phone off and I do the same, glad we thought of that.

"What are we going to do with no phones?" She asks me, blowing a raspberry.

"We can start practicing making a baby." I offer, what I think is the best idea, but Morgan shakes her head, laughing at me.

~~~

Day 2

My hunger leads me to the kitchen of the main house where I help myself to a tour in search of Morgan.

I see all of the shoes and slippers lined up against the wall and take mine off.

There's a certain charm level in the Adams' home, that's only explained by a loving atmosphere she and her family have created here. It's cozy, I feel welcomed.

The closer I get to the kitchen, the more my mouth waters. I know I smell bacon and eggs, so does my stomach.

"Peek-a-boo!" I walk in on Morgan playing with Mina in the breakfast nook.

Mina, the three-year-old, giggles uncontrollably and claps for more.

"Peek-a-boo!" Morgan does it again, tickling the little girl and her brother, Robbie, this time.

I can tell by the portraits on the wall where the kids get their hair color and skin complexion from, though they still favor their mother.

I didn't get to meet this Nick guy, but by the looks of it, he's a hard worker and a family-oriented man.

Robbie hides behind Morgan and she starts to wonder why he's hiding until she turns and sees me standing in the doorway.

"Good morning." She bubbles at me, getting up from the table so I can sit.

"You don't have to." I mumble, not wanting to be left alone with the toddlers.

Morgan pushes me down by my shoulders and puts a plate before me. Well, I can't say no to that.

"Wait, did you cook this?" I ask, smelling her French toast. It's not a super spectacular recipe, but I'd know her French toast anywhere, it just doesn't taste right to me when other people make it.

Morgan smiles with pride and then kisses my cheek after pouring me a glass of orange juice.

"I wanted Yara to sleep in for once. She asked me to help her in the attic, though, so you're on babysitter duty." Morgan pats my back.

With all this talk about us wanting kids, this is a lot of pressure.

"No pressure," she bums in my ear.

See.

"But now would be the time to impress me." Morgan says before finally going upstairs.

I've never been horrible with kids, I like them, actually, but I'm finding it hard to connect with these particular children. What do I do or say to them to get the ball rolling here?

"Hi." Is all I say and it's enough to make the children giggle.