Beyond the Blue, page 19
“They threaten to shoot her. She tell them that is stupid, shooting a police officer will get them life in prison, even if she live.” By this time, Meltem’s story caught the attention of customers, who stared on in wonder. Morgan fidgeted.
“They put their weapons on the ground and Morgana says thank you. Then they try to rush out the door and she BOOM!” Mei startled, taking a step back as Meltem gesticulated wildly, making punching and kicking gestures. “She took them down! Boom, pow, both of them on the ground. The other police came soon and arrested the men. Morgana told me after she knew those men did robberies around town but she didn’t want them to shoot anybody so she lied to them. Very smart, our Morgana.”
“Not really. Just good training,” Morgan deflected.
“Very brave,” Meltem insisted. “She is a hero. The police gave her a medal and Yusuf and I are in her debt. So you see, the food? It is nothing compared to Yusuf and I keeping our lives and our business.” Meltem wrapped her arms around Morgan, hugging her hard. She looked helplessly at Mei, whose whites of her eyes shone brightly even in the dim light of Yumel. “Our Morgana is a special girl.”
Meltem released her death grip on Morgan and Mei smiled softly. “She truly is.”
“Good. You take good care of Morgana, okay?”
“I will.”
Upon their return home, Morgan hefted the bags onto the table and reached in to sort through what they’d actually ordered and what Meltem threw in. “Ooh, za’taar pitas. Wow, they even made me mücver! One time I ate like two dozen of them in one sitting and I don’t think Yusuf ever recovered.”
Her enthusiastic narration of their food echoed in the apartment. Mei stood a few feet away near the couch, eerily quiet. “Mei? Are you…are you mad at me?”
“Sit down,” Mei said, gesturing to the couch. Gulping, Morgan nodded and did as told, heaving a sigh.
“I’m sorry I never told y—” The rest of her sentence perished as Mei straddled her on the couch, grabbing her face and kissing her hard. She squeaked in surprise but kissed back, pulling Mei into her lap. Hot and furious, Mei dropped her hands to grip Morgan’s shirt in both fists, tugging them closer with a whimper. When they broke apart, she furrowed her brow at the tears slipping from Mei’s eyes.
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I—I hope you know how very, very precious you are to me.”
Morgan pulled away, using the pad of her thumb to wipe the tears from Mei’s cheeks. “Meltem tells everyone that story. It was not as dramatic as she makes it seem, I promise.”
“They had guns,” Mei pressed. “They could’ve killed you.”
“I also had a gun. More importantly, I had a lot of training. And look, that doesn’t really happen to me anymore. I do paperwork and read through forty-year-old newspapers. I scour abandoned barns and interview regular people about something that happened decades ago. My risk level is low, comparatively. Okay?”
“I know that,” Mei countered, exasperated. “But you said that man you brought in a couple weeks ago had like a house full of guns.”
“I tell you too much,” Morgan teased, prompting Mei to pout. The fear in her eyes, the desperation, exemplified why Morgan never talked about her work. People had left her over the thought of losing her. Consequently, the only real loser was Morgan. “I love what I do, you know that, and there will always be some level of risk. If that’s not something you want to handle, better to know now than later.”
Brushing some of Morgan’s hair away from her forehead, Mei’s features drew together quizzically. “What are you taking about? I’m not—I’m not going to leave you because of something I already know. It was a shock, that’s all.”
“Oh. Well, you wouldn’t be the first girlfriend to break up with me because of it. I do sometimes forget how scary my job sounds, and I’m grateful for your concern.” What Morgan didn’t say—or couldn’t—was that she never concerned herself with self-preservation. She put her life on the line without hesitation and not out of bravery, but because of her presupposed expendability. “I promise I do my best to avoid risky situations.”
Anxiety temporarily assuaged, Mei took Morgan’s hand from her cheek and sandwiched it between her own. “Okay. You are terribly brave.”
Morgan deflected the praise with a roll of her eyes, grateful for the release of tension. Running her hands up Mei’s sides, Morgan toyed with the top button of her blouse. “Now, would you say my valiant heroics in the face of mortal danger turns you on a little bit?”
“Would that please you? My roleplaying a damsel in distress to your daring superhero?” Mei cocked an eyebrow.
“Absolutely not.” Morgan scoffed at this absurdity. “Clearly you’d be my extremely sexy, supposedly ‘evil’ genius doctor nemesis whose nefarious plans I thwart in sexually charged minor scuffles. Until, one fateful day, we are forced to work together to defeat a common enemy. Our sexual tension reaches a fever pitch and we succumb to the unspoken attraction between us.”
Craning her head, Mei narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“Yes, I have.”
She paused. “What is my fantasy PhD in?”
“Bioengineering.”
Mei tapped her finger against her chin. “That is acceptable.” She cast a glance behind them. “What about all the food?”
“It can wait.” Hefting Mei over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry, Morgan turned on her heel toward the hallway. Squeaking in surprise, Mei slapped Morgan’s back in protest.
“Unhand me!” Mei demanded as Morgan bodily brought her into the bedroom. She lowered her voice. “Like that?”
Morgan grinned, slamming the bedroom door closed behind them.
Chapter Fourteen
Shanvi reclined in her chair beside Mei, nursing the spiked homemade cider she’d laid out for them. A rare weekend without Morgan, whose murder case had unraveled into a child trafficking ring that subsequently buried her in work, Mei spent a chilly Saturday evening in her backyard with Shanvi. Her patio was peaceful and serene, a respite from the world with a canopy of trees on all sides to shield them from their neighbors. She came here often to think, and Morgan had taken to doing the same thing, thumbing through case files as Mei caught up on a book.
“Anyway, suffice it to say I am not looking forward to another Thanksgiving with Paul’s parents. If his mother makes me choke down another one of her green bean casseroles, I might just go for broke and drown myself in it.” Shanvi sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Tell me your plans are better.”
Fiddling with her cup, Mei divulged, “Morgan asked me to meet her biological father and his family. It appears he’s straightened his life out and is trying to have a relationship with her.”
“So, things between you are getting serious, huh? Meeting the parents?” Shanvi asked, keeping her tone light but her expression sober. “Good. I think you’re good for each other.”
Her relationship with Morgan was going so well, she hesitated to voice the nagging thought in her head. “Sometimes…I—I don’t know how to say this without sounding awful.”
“You saw me through my bleached highlights phase, Mei. You know there is no judgment here.”
Letting out a huff of a laugh, Mei continued. “Being with Morgan has made me see my marriage differently. Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved Allan. Adored him, really. We had a wonderful relationship. But this is…it’s so different. I think about her all the time. It’s consuming. And it’s so physical. The sex is honestly so good I want to paint it in oils and frame it on my wall.”
Shanvi nearly choked. “Please do not misconstrue my shock for anything less than ‘tell me more.’”
Mei blushed, rolling her eyes at her friend’s exuberance. “Do control yourself. In addition to this, I feel for her something I can’t be certain I ever felt for Allan. I don’t know how to describe it without sounding melodramatic. She makes me feel like no matter where I am, if I’m with her, I’m supposed to be there.”
With Allan, Mei existed on the perimeters of her own life. He fit in anywhere, finding commonalities with people from any walk of life. Mei often felt like the dark moon people tolerated so they could bask in the glow of Allan’s sunny personality. But Morgan Kelly shifted her on her axis and pointed her toward the sun, bringing her a joy so contagious Mei spread it to those around her.
Arranging her features seriously, Shanvi put down her drink and leaned in. “Are you worried you may enjoy this new romance more than your marriage?”
“Isn’t that terrible? It makes me feel selfish. Like I don’t deserve this. Or that—that my marriage was a sham. Maybe I’ve been queer all along and I faked heterosexuality because that’s what my mother wanted.”
During her marriage Mei performed sex as a perfunctory part of their union. It was something you did with someone you love, like sharing meals or taking each other to the doctor. She never sought it, but it sufficed and it wasn’t unenjoyable. However, nothing about her previous experience prepared her for how ridiculously pleasurable it would be with Morgan, or how she would want it so much.
“Even if you were always attracted to women, that doesn’t make your marriage a sham,” Shanvi replied. “You loved him and he loved you. That’s what marriage is. Now, if you have all that plus mind-blowing orgasms? Well then you’re lucky and I resent you rubbing it in my face.”
Mei laughed, taking a languid, relaxing sip from her glass. “Fair enough.”
“Why don’t you talk about it with Morgan?”
“I don’t know if I could handle her having insecurities about him,” Mei answered honestly. “I mean, she’s never even gone inside the house.”
“Why not?” Shanvi shrugged. “If you don’t give her the opportunity to get over any potential insecurities or issues, you’re not being fair to her.”
“Maybe you’re right. It’s probably silly to compare the two, anyway.”
Shanvi gave her a sage nod. “Comparison is the thief of the joy of hot lesbian sex.”
Laughing loudly, Mei dipped her finger in her drink and flicked droplets at Shanvi. “It’s like how I love my children, I suppose. I love them both, but I love them differently.”
Shanvi rested her arms on the table between them. “Ooh, you said the ‘L’ word.”
“Lesbian?”
“Love,” Shanvi replied. “Do you love her?”
Perhaps for the first time in their many-decades-long friendship, Mei lied to Shanvi. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, Shanvi gave her a supportive smile. “There is no maybe in love.”
“You sound like a greeting card,” Mei chided. “It’s too soon to say. We’ve only been dating a couple of months.”
“And? Neither of us is getting any younger. We can’t afford extensive courting. Trust your gut, Mei. Or, trust your heart.”
In contemplation over her glass of cider, Mei gnawed on her bottom lip. The wedding cemented for Mei how deeply in love with Morgan she’d fallen. Her heart was full, bursting with affection, but there was a fear she could not shake. “She told me she loved me once. After Sergeant Ruiz’s wedding, quite drunk.”
“Did you say it back?”
Jamming her tongue into the side of her cheek, Mei blushed even deeper. “I wasn’t…the moment didn’t allow for it. We were—it was a moment of passion. She hasn’t said it again since. How can I be sure she meant it?”
“That woman adores you and you know it,” Shanvi replied. “What does she have to do for you to be sure? Show up outside your house in a trench coat with a boom box blasting Peter Gabriel?”
“You know she was a toddler when that movie came out,” Mei informed, jutting out her chin. “She’s probably never seen it. I’m going to go through menopause and she’ll never have seen Say Anything.”
“Sounds like you need to show it to her. You know, Paul had never seen Star Wars. What white man has never seen Star Wars? Not a single Star War, Mei. I almost divorced him.” With a weary sigh, Shanvi feigned lament. “Sometimes you have to educate your partner.”
Chuckling, Mei tipped back more cider. The smooth alcohol helped calm her frazzled nerves. “I need to tell her I love her, don’t I?”
“No offense, but duh.” Waving her off, Shanvi repositioned herself on her chair. “Okay, now that the sappy stuff is out of the way, tell me more about this hot sex you want to paint.”
After cheering on Morgan at a freezing Thanksgiving charity 5K run, they redressed and began their journey to Morgan’s biological father’s home miles outside the county. Morgan insisted on driving, as she often did, but was uncharacteristically curt on the road out. The rumble of the engine and quiet folk music provided the soundtrack for autumnal trees shedding their vibrant terracotta leaves outside the window. Every so often Morgan would tug on the sleeve of her sweater—a new one Mei bought her for this occasion—and worry her bottom lip.
With her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, her sky-blue eyes remained intently focused on the road ahead. After Morgan took an exit off the highway, Mei attempted a conversation. “You seem nervous.”
Morgan spared her a quick look before focusing back on the road. “I am.”
“Okay.” Mei slid her hand over and cupped Morgan’s fingers clutching the gearshift. “Allan was orphaned at five years old, so I never dealt with in-laws during our marriage. He, unfortunately, had to deal with my mother.”
“Did they get along? Allan and your mother?”
Mei shook her head. “Not even a little. Which was incredible, because there wasn’t a single person Allan couldn’t charm eventually. My mother never budged. She wouldn’t tell me directly why, but I do know she thought Allan had a ‘pedestrian’ job. And there’s no direct translation for that in Mandarin so it was a feat for her to get across how thoroughly basic she found him.”
Perturbed, Morgan glanced her way. “Wasn’t he a journalist?”
“Yes, and a good one. But it was a regional paper and it’s not like he won any awards,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That is important to my mother. Accolades.”
Morgan let out a thoughtful “hmm,” releasing the steering wheel for a moment to run her fingers through her hair. “Yeah, so, my ‘father’ hates cops.”
“He what now?”
“He hates cops.” Morgan slowed down as they approached a cute Colonial-style home on an Arcadian, tree-lined street in an idyllic suburb not all that different from where Mei lived. “I mentioned it when we met. Ah, the second time, at the morgue, while I had verbal diarrhea because the ‘uppity doctor’ Ruiz brought me to turned out to be the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.”
“Uppity?” Mei sniffed, but she supposed that wasn’t the most offensive adjective anyone ever used to describe her. “And yes, I remember now.”
“Due to his previous occupation as a drug dealer, he’s gotten arrested a lot. Had a lot of bad experiences with the law and he’s very vocal about how awful cops are. About how the whole system is bullshit, that sort of thing.”
“In front of you?” Mei could already feel her blood pressure rising.
“To me directly,” she replied, parking the car near the curb outside the house. Little gel pumpkins and turkeys adorned a wide bay window in the front of the home. “I try to not talk about my job at all.”
Ridiculous considering the breadth of Morgan’s success, but Mei held her tongue as they walked up the lantern-lined walkway between trim grass lawns. Taking Morgan’s hand in her own, Mei knocked solidly on their front door. The thunder of children’s feet sounded from the other side, prompting Mei to recall fond memories of her own daughters fighting to answer the door for guests. Grace nearly always won.
Instead of children, a woman opened the door and smiled warmly in their direction. “Hey! So glad you could make it.” She stepped forward and hugged Morgan, who returned it with a little less enthusiasm. “Morgan, it’s so good to see you. And this must be Mei.” The woman extended her hand. She was attractive with wavy, short brown hair and kind green eyes, dressed in an oversized sweater over which she wore an apron with a handmade felt turkey sewn into the center. “I’m Jean, Walker’s wife. Morgan has told me so much about you. Well, she’s told Walker, and he’s told me. Please, come in. Dinner’s just about ready.”
Despite having three children under the age of ten, the room glistened with a neatly arranged tidiness. Framed photos hung on the mantel above the working fireplace, roaring and warm as they entered the living room. Fine couches and chairs surrounded the fireplace with a large Persian rug in the center. Each part of the home dripped with money like paint on walls.
Olivia skidded into the room first, tall and thin with lots of freckles, lovely short red hair, and sparkling green eyes. She didn’t look a bit like Morgan. “Hi, Morgan!”
“Hey, Olivia.” Morgan kneeled to hug the young girl. “Gee whiz, how much did you grow? Ten inches since I was here?”
Olivia giggled, shaking her head. “Nope. I grew one inch and one-quarter. Hailey didn’t grow at all. Mom says it’s ’cause she doesn’t eat her veggies. Sammy is two inches taller than last year.”
“Two inches? So what is he, six feet tall now?” Another young child, a girl with long brown hair, zoomed in and crashed directly into Morgan’s legs. “Oof, there she is. Hailey Hailey Bo Bailey.”
“Morgan Morgan Bo Borgan! My new favorite animal is echidnas and not lions,” Hailey proclaimed, deadly serious. “Lions are still cute, but echidnas are cuter.”
