A Period Apart

Year 20: Half-dazed, Morgan lay quietly as his blood was being drawn for another test. Michael stopped inside the doorway of the bedroom and said nothing. There was a lot each wanted to say to the other, but neither wanted to hear themselves say it. Michael was trying to compose in his mind the gentlest way to say he was leaving. Morgan couldn't think very coherently, and emotions that gnawed at him lacked defining words. Between the two of them, the past two weeks had stretched like months and passed like minutes.

When the needle was removed from Morgan's arm, Michael said, “Excuse us, please.”

The others shuffled out of the room. Michael shut the door behind them. He sat down on the edge of the bed. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. Morgan canted his head slightly. “Morgan, I'm going to leave.”

“Please, no.” Morgan's voice sounded weak and dry.

“Morgan, I know you want me to stay, but I have children now and I think I should look after them.”

“They can... here.”

“I don't want them near mother.”

Morgan made a gutteral groan and several incoherent noises. Michael hugged him and then kissed him on the cheek.

~~~

For nearly two years, Morgan attempted to run the family business and the barony, despite being unsuited to do the former. His regular occupation kept him busy as well. He made regular entreaties to Michael to return home but couldn't fathom why Michael was sour about doing so, even after their mother had left. Finally, he asked for copies of their father's will and mailed them to Michael.

One night, he sat in the proprieter's chair at Wallace, Ltd. listening to a primitive reader bleeping as it translated a typewritten letter. He slowly sipped on bourbon while trying to remain clear-headed enough to wend his way through the vocabulary of the letter. He stopped to look up another term. He heard the door open and shut. Morgan shouted out, “What is an estoppel?”

“It bars an action that contradicts a previous statement,” came the soft reply.

Morgan went to take another sip and found the glass empty. He dropped the glass on the desktop and put his head down on the flat, cool surface. “You finally came. I can barely figure out what I am doing. I keep fearing I will do irreparable harm.”

A hand gently stroked Morgan's hair. “You look like you haven't slept in days. I am so sorry. I can't believe I let anger keep me from seeing what I was doing to myself or to anyone.”

Tears wet the desktop as Morgan shook from stress. “I have not slept more than two hours in weeks.”

“I'm here now. You don't have to worry about this company anymore.”

“I still have contracts to fulfill.”

“You don't look to be in any shape to fill them.”

“I may just do it the easy way and die.”

“What? Oh, Morgan, I should have realized what I was doing to you...”

“Too many precision jobs onworld lately. No rest.”

“Why didn't you tell me I'd inhereited the company?”

“I did not think I needed to say it. Dad would not have left it to me. When he died, you should have known you were the one to inherit.”

Michael gripped Morgan's shoulders. “You're absolutely right. Let's get you home.”

Morgan stood up and picked up the folded cape on which he'd been sitting. “I cannot go home yet.”

Despite his exhuastion, Morgan deftly danced away from Michael's grip and disappeared, leaving Michael clutching at air.