Lily
You went to the gym and fell asleep there?” Lily repeated. Morgan looked awful. Her hair was tangled, her lips were chapped, and there were circles under her eyes. Lily had taken one look when Morgan had come shuffling into the lobby at ten thirty in the morning, with Andy trailing shamefacedly in her wake, and, immediately, Lily had known that something had happened, that something was wrong. “Upstairs,” she’d said, her voice sharp. Morgan had followed her onto the elevator and back to their room. Lily hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door handle, closed the door and locked it, then turned to face her daughter.
“Andy wanted to show me some yoga,” Morgan said, with her eyes on the floor. In between frantic calls—to the police, to Don, in Arizona, to Morgan’s friend, Olivia, who she’d tracked down at summer camp—Lily had gone back to the room and straightened up, to keep her hands busy. Both beds were made, and she’d set Morgan’s duffel bag on top of the luggage stand, after going through each item and telling herself that her daughter wouldn’t go far without her phone, her retainer, or her beloved flat iron.
“You were in the gym with Andy?” Lily could hear her voice, a loud and undignified squawk. She was remembering that Andy had been carrying a blanket and pillow when he and Morgan had come traipsing into the lobby… but surely Morgan wouldn’t have been brazen enough to carry those items into the lobby if she and Andy had been doing something illicit. Andy seemed nice, well-mannered, and his parents seemed like decent, upstanding people… but Lily knew that young men who seemed pleasant were, sometimes, the ones that could cause the most harm.
“I have cramps,” Morgan said. “I—my legs were sore. Everything hurt. He was trying to help me.” She sniffled, one hand rubbing at her eyes. “I’m still not feeling good. I think I just want to stay in bed today.”
Lily looked at her daughter, examining her face, her clothes, her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. They had planned to spend the day going to the museums—there was one for women’s rights, and another one dedicated to the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, which was one of Lily’s favorites. Bedford Falls, the movie’s setting, was based on Seneca Falls. Lily suspected that those visits would not be happening.
Morgan didn’t look like herself. She was clearly exhausted, visibly miserable. But why? What had happened? Had Andy Presser done something to her? Hurt her, somehow?
“I’m sorry,” Morgan said. She went to her bed and lay down, curled on her side, her back toward Lily and her face toward the wall. Lily stared at her for a moment. Then she sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and stroked Morgan’s hair, rubbing her back. “Honey,” she said.
“I just want to be alone,” Morgan said, in a tiny, tearful voice. “Please, just let me be by myself for a little while.”
“I want to make sure you’re all right. You scared me.” Lily touched Morgan’s hair again and then asked, quietly, “Did Andy do something?”
“No!” Morgan bolted upright, and her voice was loud. She shook her head, then lay down again. She curled in around herself more tightly. “Andy’s a nice guy.”
“Did someone else hurt you?”
Morgan shook her head, but Lily felt her daughter’s body stiffen, very slightly, under her hand.
“Did something happen?”
Another headshake.
“Honey, you can tell me. Whatever it is.” Lily felt like she was groping in a dark room, feet bumping into furniture, hips banging into tables, everything just vague shapes lurking in the blackness.
“You’ll be mad at me,” Morgan said.
“I promise I won’t be angry. But I need to know what happened.” She took a deep breath and made herself ask, “Does this have something to do with Brody?”
If she hadn’t been watching and listening so carefully, she’d have missed Morgan’s minute nod, the sound of her daughter’s hair moving against the pillowcase. Maybe he broke up with her, Lily thought… but her mother’s heart, or intuition, or even just her own experience, was suggesting something else that seemed more likely. “Did Brody make you do something you didn’t want to do?”
Morgan pressed her hands together. “Not—not exactly.”
“You can tell me,” Lily said, stroking Morgan’s silky hair, moving gently, speaking softly. “You can tell me anything.”
“You’ll be mad.” Morgan’s voice was choked with tears. “You’ll be so mad, and you won’t…”