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Post by MORGAN JANE FARREN on Apr 24, 2013 15:40:34 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:25px; width: 260px; height: 280px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:18px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-right:5px;] Morgan couldn’t trust him. She remembered once, in the later months of their relationship, a conversation they’d had. It had been before her pregnancy. They’d laid about, half-watching crappy movies. They’d been talking about what they would do with their futures. She remembered she’d asked him, where he would go. And he’d said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m not going to leave you.”
[/i] Now, hearing those words echoed, Morgan couldn’t help but stiffen. He’d made a hundred empty promises. And perhaps she should have realized that teenagers had the unfortunate habit of making empty promises. They had fanciful ideas of what their lives could be. That didn’t make the betrayal any less. She watched him closely, the way his face changed as he looked to their daughter. He lowered, looking in her eyes. And beneath the anger, the distrust – everything he felt for Morgan – there was something different there waiting for Emmaline. It wasn’t love, exactly. More like a tentative affection, like he didn’t trust himself to do what was right. She recognized that lopsided smile, one that had been aimed at her so many times. Emmy pressed up against her mother for a moment shyly, looking Michael up and down. Morgan wanted to pull Emmy away, say anything that would dissuade the little girl from forming a bond with her father. Instead she swallowed. “It’s alright sweetheart, show him what Mommy taught you.” Emmy nodded up at her mother, then promptly stuck out her tiny hand. She was gaining confidence with every passing moment, her natural vibrancy showing through. “Nice to meet you.” She pronounced each word carefully. She didn’t quite trust herself to pronounce Michael’s full name. But Morgan had taught her daughter manners, at least the very beginnings of polite conversation. She wouldn’t allow her daughter to grow up a heathen. Emmy grew excited, presenting her giraffe excitedly. She pushed the old worn animal towards Michael eagerly. “His name is Giraffe! He has a cape at home.” Morgan smiled, brushing Emmy’s hair out of her face. She hated to admit it (and did so grudgingly), but Michael was good with children. Then again, Emmaline was never happier than when giraffes were the subject of conversation. [/size] [/div][/style][/style][/center]
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Post by MICHAEL CONNER BARTON on Apr 24, 2013 16:17:41 GMT -5
--- i'll be there when you close your eyes ,. [/color][/size][/font] ( HOLD YOU TIGHT, SAY GOODNIGHT )[/center]
Emmy held out her hand unknowingly towards her father and he took it gentle. Her skin was soft and smooth like that of all children and small compared to his own hand. ”Giraffe?” he repeated, using the sort of tone people seemed to universally reserve for young kids. The train of thought the three year old was simple and innocent. A refreshing breath of air to his conversation with her mother. ”I think that Giraffe is a very good name too. I bet Giraffe must look pretty cool with his cape on.” What kind of giraffe wore a cape? ”Have you ever seen a real giraffe Emmy? I saw a group of giraffes once at the zoo. They have really long necks they use to reach the tops of the trees.” He pantomimed the action of the giraffes with his arm to entertain the little girl. ”They didn’t have any awesome capes though like your buddy Giraffe though.”
Michael straightened himself out and returned his attention back to Emmy’s mother. As much as he hated talking to her right now it had to be done. ”She’s very cute. And polite.” There were thinks he needed to say to Morgan now, but with Emmaline here they would have to wait. A quick poke in the back of his head cause Mike to rubbed his neck. Turning to see his younger brother grinning up at him with his fishing pole and proudly displaying his catch, the younger Barton seemed oblivious to what was going on. ”Look what I got.” He held up a stick as if he had actually achieved something, ”Oh great, another stick. We can mount that with all the other twigs you managed to catch.” Bran peaked around his older brother to catch a proper view at whom he was talking to this whole time. ”Who are they?” he asked smiling at the two girls. ”Just someone I haven’t seen in a long time.” Michael wrapped an arm around his younger brother’s shoulder and pulled him close to his side for a moment. ”That’s Morgan and that is Emmaline.” he addressed. While Bran waved to Morgan and was distracted by the younger girl, Michael took the opportunity to address Morgan.”I still think we need to talk about this later.” he muttered to his ex girlfriend.
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Post by MORGAN JANE FARREN on Apr 24, 2013 16:36:22 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:25px; width: 260px; height: 280px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:18px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-right:5px;] Emmy’s tiny hand vanished inside Michael’s man-sized one, though it reappeared a moment later. Her eyes were wide, full of excitement. Michael had really done it now. Once she got going, she didn’t stop. She’d repeat the same thing three, four times if she so wanted to. And she wouldn’t be deterred by the boredom of her audience. Yet something told Morgan that Michael wouldn’t quickly become bored with his newly-discovered daughter. Emmy brought a finger to her lips, lowering her voice to a hissing loud whisper. She leaned forward in a conspirator’s manner, stroking a hand down Giraffe’s neck. “Sometimes we’re super heroes.” She leaned back, obviously pleased with her secret.
A moment later she was clapping and giggling wildly at Michael’s impersonation. Her eyes glowed. Morgan had taken her daughter to the zoo so many times that the ticket-manners recognized them. For her upcoming birthday, Morgan had even planned to pay for that thing where people could feed the giraffes. She’d seen other families do it, the children sticking out celery and carrots to eager lips and too-long tongues. But she had no intention of revealing this to Michael. He wasn’t privy to their private time. It felt wrong, having him encroach on them. And she couldn’t help a trill of jealous as Emmy laughed – obviously delighted with Michael. She couldn’t help the wave of envy, of paranoia. Michael could take her daughter away, or perhaps worse, replace Morgan in her daughter’s heart.
Morgan lowered Emmy back to the ground, pointing towards the swings. “Run along Emmy, we have to go home soon. But I’ll push you on the swings one last time before we go.” Emmy considered complaining, whining for more time, but apparently thought better of it. She ran off, hair streaming behind her. Perhaps Morgan would let her ride the big-girl swing, anything to replace the memory of meeting Michael. She turned back to the man in question, her eyes landing on Brandon at his side. The last time she had seen the boy, he’d been eight or ten years old. Apparently he didn’t remember her, despite the hours spent together. Morgan smiled sweetly, her last little piece of revenge. “Don’t ya remember me Bran? I used to be at your house all the time.” She raised her gaze to Michael. She wouldn’t specifically name their past relationship, but she wanted Michael to have to deal with a hell of a lot of questions when he got home. “You’re welcome to talk, I can promise I’ll listen.” She muttered back, a hint of her old fire returning to combat the fear.
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Post by MICHAEL CONNER BARTON on Apr 24, 2013 20:36:11 GMT -5
--- i'll be there when you close your eyes ,. [/color][/size][/font] ( HOLD YOU TIGHT, SAY GOODNIGHT )[/center]
The Thunder leaned in towards the Emmaline as she devolved her very serious secrets about Giraffe. What else should he expect from a three year old. It wasn’t like they were going to be passing on the riddles of the DaVinci code. Their secrets revolved around cloud shapes and interesting things they picked up from children’s TV shows. ”A giraffe seems like a very good sidekick to have. I won’t tell anyone.” he whispered before pulling back. Michael laughed along with the tiny girl. Clearly someone was able to have a good time out of all of this.
Though part of him felt she could almost be physically ill at news of this child, another part of Michael felt oddly touched. Having never had the sort of mother herself who'd show such open affection, his heart clenched in his chest as Morgan tended to Emmaline. And then sunk again. That could have been him. It would have been, if not for the damned ...things that he spent regretting now. He said nothing, only watching, almost afraid to break the tender scene in front of him. Just observing, feeling his double whammy of jealousy and intrusion yet again, Mike tried to speak, and found himself voiceless. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "...It was a pleasure to meet you Emmaline." He almost added 'see you again,' before realizing he had no idea if... whatever the universe had planned, if he would see her again or not.
Feeling entirely like an intruder, Michael returned his gaze back to Morgan. She held Emmy closely until she lowered her back down. It didn’t take long for the Fire to switch back into the hostile girl she had been moments ago. A little stunned by the sudden turn-around, the Thunder just stood there for a moment, and then slowly stepped back towards his brother. ”Fine we’ll talk. I can’t promise my parents won’t find out about this, but I won’t get any lawyers involved yet until we talk again.”
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Post by MORGAN JANE FARREN on Apr 24, 2013 20:51:29 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:25px; width: 260px; height: 280px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:18px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-right:5px;] Morgan reached up, running her hand through her hair. She pushed it back from her face, in a similar manner as she had done for Emmaline moments ago. The little girl was now happily racing about, doing her best to struggle into the swing seat. Her little legs didn’t quite reach high enough. All perceived tension, any interest in Michael, had been forgotten. But such was the attention span of a toddler. A headache was forming, a deep throb in her forehead. She wanted Michael gone. She wanted to return home, settle Emmy down for her nap, and make a cup of tea. Perhaps she’d call Nell, have a good old rant session. Though as Morgan thought about it, she realized she really didn’t have any friends to call. Morgan was the only person she associated with in a somewhat pleasant or positive manner. It was a depressing realization, one she’d had before but had never depressed her in such a manner.
And later that night, after all of this chaos, she’d don the disgusting uniform. She’d tromp down to the diner and wait tables until 2AM in her attempts to save enough money to care for herself and her child, to build an independent life. And what would Michael do? Return to a life of peace, of privilege, devoid of responsibilities. Morgan pushed the thought away. She couldn’t handle it right now. Her encounter with Michael had exhausted her, physically and psychologically. She didn’t have the energy to scream, to debate or spit harsh deserving words at him. She couldn’t help but notice that when he spoke his last words, he sounded amusingly like Draco Malfoy from the popular Harry Potter series. My father shall hear about this… The thought almost caused a twitch of a smile onto her lips, but not quite. Instead, she refolded her arms over her chest. “Goodbye, Michael.” Without another word, she turned on her heel, moving towards her daughter. She moved quickly, wouldn’t face him. She didn’t want him to see the defeat in her shoulders or the sag of her exhausted body.
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