Jamie didn't hear two schoolgirls laugh and giggle as they shared a joke, but they noticed him coming down the path towards them. One of them smiled flirtatiously at him, liking the look of his toned frame, thick black hair and pale grey eyes. Jamie knew he wasn't outstanding in the looks department, but he did know a thing or two about dressing to accentuate his best features. It was drilled into him by his mom, who had taught him that image was everything. No son of hers would ever look like a slob, she'd told him at one point when he was letting his hair grow past his shoulders and had gone a whole month without shaving.
He flashed a quick smile and hurried onwards. In a different situation he might have struck up a conversation, but it was the wrong time and place. Besides, he had a good thing going on with Morgan, and he'd like to see it through to the end .
Morgan was in a few of Jamie's classes, although she majored primarily in English literature, with a side in rocking out. Her gothic punk cabaret band Lest We Forget had finally corralled the owner of the small club Neil's into letting them play their first gig, and Jamie wasn't about to miss it.
He almost tripped over a small girl lugging a huge furry teddy bear, managing to yell out an apology to her furious mother before getting swept along by the crowd once more. Jamie knew how much the show meant to Morgan, she had kept the band together by sheer force of will after her bassists and drummers came and left in droves due to her insistence that they actually practiced once a week. If she didn't make it big in the music world, Jamie mused, she would make quite a good President.
The club was just ahead. Jamie glanced up and down the street, and dashed across the road, narrowly avoiding a bike messenger.
"Heyfuckyou!"
"Nice to see you too!" he called cheerfully, waving at the man who was looking back at him, one finger raised in the traditional NYC salute. Not looking where he was going, he crashed into the back of a cab and landed on the boot. Barely able to control his mirth, Jamie quickly disappeared into the dark interior of Neil's.
It was a small place, acting as a coffeehouse by day and doubling as a mini-club by night. Other than its versatility, it was also located quite near Jamie's school and Morgan's house. It was in Neil's where they would hang out with their friends, drinking startlingly large amounts of coffee and mapping out their futures. It was in Neil's where they had their first kiss.
"Hello Neil," Jamie called to the owner, a solidly unimaginative man when it came to the naming department. "Have you seen Morgan about?"
"In the back," rumbled Neil, not looking up from his triple latte concoction.
"Thanks."
Jamie wandered to the back, where a storeroom was doing double duty as a backstage area. In the midst of sacks of coffee beans and guitar amps, Jamie found his best friend agonizing over a myriad collection of lipstick tubes in front of a small mirror.
"Miss Murphy, I presume?"
"Jamie!"
Morgan flung her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.
"I'm so glad you made it! Oh my god look at me, I'm an utter mess. I'm not at all ready!"
"Calm down, Mor. You look wonderful, and I'm sure you'll do awesome tonight."
"Choose," she commanded, holding out a fistful of lipstick tubes. Jamie pointed at one at random.
"Midnight Fuchsia? Not what I'd choose, but it could work."
"Least I could do," said Jamie, pulling up a box of coffee stirrers and sitting on it. "Where are Ollie and Jacob and Truy Phang?"
"I have absolutely no idea, they said they'd be here by now. Our first gig, and they're late! If they mess it up for me, I am going to murder them."
"I hope you weren't talking about me," remarked a small Vietnamese girl, coming into the store room. She heaved a huge bag onto the floor and hugged Morgan.
"Truy has entered the building!" proclaimed Jamie, saluting.
"Oh stop it, Mister James Keane."
"Dear god, you've turned into my mother."
"Shoo! It's bad luck to see a band before their first gig."
"That's for brides."
"It applies. You're in the way, I can't set up my keyboard."
"I know when I'm not wanted," sniffed Jamie theatrically, getting up. "I'll get meself a front row seat then. Break a leg!"
"That's for theatre," called Truy.
"It applies." Jamie left the storeroom, and went to see if Neil would give him a free drink while he was waiting. Converting the Pope would have been far more likely, but Jamie was an eternal optimist.
Fifteen minutes later, the place had filled up considerably. Jamie had begun a massive recruitment drive on Facebook, so most of his friends and Morgan's friends had shown up. Ollie had finally arrived, looking harried and dashing into the back, followed a minute later by Jacob.
Jamie took a long sip from his Long Island Tea and waited patiently at his table, a little to the side. Lest We Forget eventually took to the stage, to a chorus of cheers. Morgan looked taken aback by the size of the crowd. Jamie hadn't told her he was contacting everybody he knew, and she seemed overwhelmed for a minute. Then she spotted Jamie at the corner, and the two exchanged a smile. It was time.
The band played some of their hot numbers, which the crowd seemed to like. Jamie clapped and cheered along with the rest. Then Ollie, Jacob and Truy Phang left the stage, leaving Morgan alone in a spotlight. She cradled her guitar and strummed tentatively.
"This is a song I wrote for a dear friend of mine, and I'd like to share it with you guys." Jamie looked on in disbelief. Morgan hadn't told him she was going to play some of her slower, more thoughtful music, which he liked much better than her normal songs. They were the pieces she would play for him in her bedroom when he would come over whenever her mom was out. They were personal, heartfelt, more poems than songs. Jamie had always encouraged her to play them more often, but Morgan didn't seem to think much of them. Apparently she'd changed her mind.
Jamie listened, spellbound. He knew this song, in fact, he was the first to hear it. Morgan had come up with it after noticing that Jamie shared his initials with a certain President of the United States. Anyone else would think that Morgan was singing about Kennedy, but Jamie knew most of the verses referred to him. He cheered the loudest when she was done.
"Thank you. So much," said Morgan, her eyes welling up with what looked suspiciously like tears. She then hurried off the stage.
Jamie drank a steady stream of mocktails, watching the crowd file out. Neil never had so many customers before. Lest We Forget eventually reappeared, and started packing up their stuff. Jamie went over and took both of Morgan's hands in his.
"That - was unbelievable. You guys rocked hard."
"Thanks Jamie," said Morgan, hugging him tight. They said goodbye to Ollie and Jacob and Truy Phang, where were sharing a cab. Jamie intended to walk Morgan home.
"JFK, huh? I thought you didn't want to play that song live," said Jamie, walking down the quiet street with his arm around Morgan.
"You deserved it. I wasn't expecting so many people. That was so sweet of you Jamie. Thank you."
"Ah, it was nothing," Jamie said modestly. "A few hours on Facebook, a couple of calls..."
"It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."
"Oh, so you've forgotten about that time I accompanied you to get your first tattoo?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah."
They walked on in comfortable silence. It was a cold night with a strong breeze and the lights of NYC were glowing all around them. Jamie and Morgan turned into the street that led to her apartment building, across from a little fenced in grassy area where kids liked to play soccer in the daytime. Jamie had spent countless hours there hanging out with Morgan, nominally keeping an eye on Jeff after school.
"Thank you for coming tonight," said Morgan, looking up at him.
"It was my pleasure."
Jamie leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, just the way she liked it. The sounds of a New York night flowed around them like the waves of the sea. Jamie didn't care. All he could think of was the girl he had in his arms.
"Can I come up?" he whispered breathlessly, after a while. Morgan snuggled her head under his chin. She smelled like cinammon, Jamie noted somewhat fuzzily.
"Okay," she said, and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
Jamie grinned, allowing himself to be dragged by the hand as they climbed up the stairs to Morgan's apartment.
Outside her front door Jamie caught Morgan and gave her another kiss, long and deep. She returned it with an unusual hunger, fumbling for the doorknob behind her. Giggling and laughing like a pair of kids, she opened the door and they tumbled into the apartment.
"Enjoying yourself, I see," came a voice from someone at the kitchen table. Morgan gasped with shock and pushed herself away from Jamie, dropping her coat and purse and keys onto the floor.
"Mother? What are you doing here?"
"I live here."
"I thought you were staying over at Derrick's place tonight."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. I'm here. And clearly it was the right thing to do."
Mrs. Murphy was not a physically imposing person. Small, with short hair and dressed in her old pink bathrobe, she looked much younger than her actual age. Yet Jamie knew how frightening she could be. There were loads of times where he had to listen to Morgan rage about her mother after one of their fights. She was very protective of her daughter and disapproved of her band, among other things.
"Is that where you were the whole night? Out with Jamie? Without so much as a phone call or a message to let me know you're still alive? It's two in the morning, Morgan. What the hell were you thinking?"
"I think she switched off her phone -" said Jamie, and was cut short with a single burning glare from Mrs. Murphy.
"Shut up. How dare you bring my daughter out at a time like this, Mr. Keane. I thought better of you."
"You don't tell him to shut up!" screamed Morgan, involuntarily stamping her foot.
"It's okay, Mor, really," muttered Jamie, trying to calm her down. But Morgan wasn't paying attention.
"I had a show, mom. I performed at Neil's and the crowd loved it. People like what I have to say. Why can't you understand that?"
Mrs. Murphy stood up suddenly, knocking over her chair with a loud bang. "You were at a stupid bar playing music until this time of the night? Who knows what could have happened to you? Then you go and bring Jamie home? What were you planning to do, huh? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. I have had enough of this Morgan. I told you to stop it with the band nonsense and clearly you won't listen to me. What will it take for you to wake up?"
"I'm doing what I love, mom. Why can't you support me like a decent human being?"
"Your father never earned a day's wage in his life chasing his own stupid dreams -"
"I'M NOT DAD, MOM!" Morgan screamed, close to tears. She angrily flung off the hand Jamie placed on her arm. "You always bring this up! So what if he never made it big, he loved what he was doing. Just because you never got to do what you wanted -"
"Only because I had to support that fool while he was off in his fairy-tale world!"
"I can't take this. I don't want to deal with you right now. I'm getting the fuck out of here." Morgan ran out of the apartment, leaving a horrified Jamie alone with her mother.
"I - I - she," Jamie stammered, looking over his shoulder and back at Mrs. Murphy.
"Just go, Jamie. Just leave," she said, sitting back down at the table. She seemed very old and tired all of a sudden.
Jamie left. Morgan had went quite a long way, and it was a few minutes before he caught up with her.
"Oi, you'll freeze to death, night like this."
She refused to look at him, squeezing her hands under her arms to keep them warm. Tears were still running down her cheeks. Wordlessly Jamie pulled off his own coat and put it on her, then hugged her tight.
"She's so bitter. She's just so bitter. She thinks money is all there is in life. Not once has she ever supported anything I ever wanted to do," mumbled Morgan into Jamie's chest.
"Shh. It's all right. It's all right."
"Can't we just run, Jamie? Just get away from everything. We'll leave this town and never come back."
"There's only one person in the world who'd make me do something like that."
"So why don't we? Just run and never stop."
"Because running never solves anything, Mor. You can run to the end of the world and all you've done is to end up right where you started. Your problems are still there, and they won't go away."
"I can't believe you're talking like this. You're sounding like her."
"Morgan I know your mom can be weird about what you're doing. But at least she cares. We both know tons of people whose parents literally couldn't care if they live or die. She could work on her communication a little, but your mom cares."
"Your mom doesn't act like her though."
"You've never seen what happens when I forget to take out the trash?"
Morgan sniffed, and smiled, and punched Jamie.
"Ass."
Jamie held her a little while more, ignoring the cold.
"I love you."
Jamie was shocked. In all the years he'd been with Morgan, she'd never said the words, not much given to sentimentality. He brushed back her hair and looked into her eyes. She looked expectant, and a little bit anxious. Jamie couldn't remember ever seeing her like this, so unsure of herself. He said the words he'd been wanting to say ever since he realised he loved her.
"I know."
Morgan punched him again, harder. "You idiot! I bet you waited ages to do the line! This is so not the time for a Han impression, James Franklin Keane!"
"I'm sorry!"
"What were you thinking?"
"I was going for adorably charming and sweet?"
"Well it did not work!"
"You liar, it so did."
"And you're a jackass!" But she was smiling, and Jamie knew she was amused. He leaned over and gave her another kiss.
"Morgan, I love you too. You know that I've been in love with you for the longest time. I know how you feel about romance and attachment and stuff, so I held off from saying it. But I love you. I really do. I know you have some problems in your life, but hey, everyone does. I want you know I will always be here to help you get through them."
"Jamie, no one's ever said that to me before and meant it."
"I do mean it. I will always be here for you, Morgan. Whatever happens. Believe me."
"I believe you," whispered Morgan.
"And it's because I love you I think we should go back to your place and talk things over with your mom. It won't be easy, but it needs to be done."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Running away's the easy way out, not the right one. My...dad told me that."
"Your dad?" repeated Morgan. Jamie never talked about his dad.
"Yeah. He used to say that all the time. And I think he was right."
"Yeah, okay," she muttered, beginning to walk back to her apartment. Jamie held her hand, swinging it a little.
"Han Solo! God."
"Admit it, you loved it."
"You utter, utter geek."
"Geek in love, we're the best kind."
Shift
Not ten feet away stood Death, arms folded, her right foot set firmly forward, rocking her weight a little on her left. If she had been wearing a watch, she would have checked it.
Shift
The truck that would end Jamie's life didn't warrant a second glance. It was one of those used to make deliveries, cheap Sony TVs, potted plants, anything you could think of. Painted on one side was a brown cartoon cow, with the words 'We'll mooove anything!' in a speech balloon coming from its mouth. The driver sat at the front with his forearms on the wheel, struggling to keep his eyes open. He had been working the graveyard shift for a week because his partner had called in sick, and pills and coffee could only do so much. He had been drifting off and jerking back awake for some time now, but he had just one last delivery to make, then he could go home. That delivery would never be completed.
Could it have been avoided? Definitely, but the most vengeful of investigators would have been hard-pressed to detect any amount of malice or forethought in the driver's actions. A split second of sleep is a dangerously long period of time while driving. Time enough to mix up your footing and hit the accelerator instead of the brakes, for instance.
"We made a statue of us," sang Jamie loudly. They were coming to a corner of the street where Morgan lived.
"And we put it on a mountaintop," Morgan continued, not missing a beat.
"Let tourists come and stare at us."
"Blow bubbles with their gum, take photographs for fun..."
Death watched as the roar of the truck's engine signified that something had gone wrong.
"They'll give us a talking to, they've got years of experience!" sang Morgan, turning around to look at Jamie.
Jamie wasn't looking at her, and that's why he died. He saw the truck instead.
The truck swung violently to the left and the driver woke up, realising in the pit of his heart what had gone wrong. He grasped frantically for the wheel, but not fast enough. The front wheels hit the curb and Jamie had a split second to react. Without thinking, without feeling, body moving as though on auto-pilot he shoved Morgan out of the way and was thrown forward violently in the next instant as he was struck by the fender.
He crashed against a row of iron railings. In the split second before the driver slammed on the brakes, heart racing in terror, Jamie was caught between two unyielding walls of iron. Between the hammer and the anvil the human body can do nothing against such force. His ribs are smashed against the railings, and one splinters into his beating heart. There is a dull crack as his spine snaps under the weight of the trucks front bumper. Jamie didn't cry out as a rush of darkness floods his vision and a sensation of horrific pain and cold overwhelm his entire body. He didn't have the time.
A trail of blood began to trickle from beneath the front of the van, shining wickedly in the moonlight. Morgan sat up shakily, not daring to believe what had just happened. She saw the blood. Morgan looked without seeing, not believing, her heart pumping fit to burst.
Then she screamed.