Rolling over the next morning, Minnie spies Meg lying in the second queen bed of the hotel room. She's got her arms tucked behind her head, staring at the ceiling as though the answers to the mysteries of life are written there. Minnie must unknowingly make a noise because Meg speaks without turning her head even a millimeter.

"Can you help me find another job, Olivia?" Meg's voice is barely audible, and Minnie feels the weight of the young woman's whole world crashing in.

"Do you need one right away?" Rising from the bed, Minnie crosses to the windows, throwing the curtains open to reveal snow falling gently. She shivers at the sight even though the room is quite warm.

The younger woman still hasn't changed her position, "Not immediately. But I cannot imagine that he will want me to keep working for him, and I need an income if I'm going to stay independent."

Minnie doesn't speak, simply turning to face Meg while leaning on the windowsill.

It doesn't take long before the words start spilling out, "He was so angry, O. Like I've seen him angry before. Lots of times. I've worked for him for a year, and he has been irate over all manner of things: too much sugar in his coffee, someone calling him a name on social media, and on and on. But I have never, ever seen him as furious as he was last night."

She pulls her arms from under her head in order to hide her eyes. "I don't have any tears left. Maybe I should have told him about Titus sooner. Then he wouldn't be so mad now. Cause, like, he thinks I kept this huge secret from him because I didn't trust him, and.....well, shit, Olivia, I DIDN'T trust him. It's only on this trip that I've started to think maybe he was ready to hear about my son. But he had this fucked up idea that I'm all innocent – some kind of a saint."

There's a pause that extends longer than Minnie usually allows them to stretch, but just as she draws in breath to ask a question, Meg continues, "I am NOT innocent, but I also haven't been with a man since shortly after Titus was conceived. There is nothing that will turn a 15-year-old off sex faster than the words, 'You're preggers, hon,' spoken by a very sweet Southern lady at Planned Parenthood. Plus those experiences before Titus weren't exactly the kind of romantic sex that movies and books portray. It was just fucking, and not even fun. Or good."

This time, Minnie lets the lack of noise in the room drag on as she finds the coffee pot and complimentary packet of coffee left by the hotel. Replenishing the carafe with water, she prepares the brew, filling the room with the life-giving aroma. When the final bits of water and steam spurt forth from the machine, Meg still hasn't continued speaking. Carrying two cups of weak coffee with powdered creamer to the bedside table, Minnie sits on the bed where she'd slept, observing the 19-year-old who somehow seems much older than her age in the morning sun.

Sitting up, Meg holds the cup of watered-down concoction close to her chest, her eyes dry from weeping. "Olivia, should I have told him? I feel like an idiot and a fool for not telling him sooner, and yet he was an asshole for the first several months I worked for him. How was I to know he wasn't really that guy?"

Debating whether it's time to talk or not, Minnie buys herself a delay by sipping the coffee. When her phone vibrates, she extends the respite while she reads the text from Harry. He's going to take Xavier and his car back to his apartment to gather their things and meet them on the plane.

With a deep sigh, Meg keeps talking, and Minnie is relieved that she doesn't need to respond to that question because there is no right answer. "And once Titus was born, my parents watched him while I finished high school. So every night I would juggle diapers and formula and homework which was decidedly not conducive to dating. This last year working for Xavier is the first time I've felt empowered as a single mom, and there was no way I was going to give that up for just any man."

Her eyes well up again, "But maybe I should have, I don't know....."

"Woulda, coulda, shoulda," Minnie pronounces, "No point in regretting your past choices, Meg. All you can do is move forward. Where that will take you remains to be seen. But I'm confident that you will figure it out. You know why?"

Sniffling, Meg looks up at where Minnie is shoving Meg's garments into the carry-on. "Why?"

Minnie stuffs the last item into the bag, zipping the top, standing by the bed clearly ready to go to the airport, "Because you are a brave and intelligent woman."

With a smile, Meg stands, reaching for the luggage, "How do you know just what to say, Olivia?"

==========

We're at the airport, and I've texted Minnie to let her know we are boarding without them. It's best right now if the teens don't share space. Xavier is shell-shocked. Once he woke up this morning, he'd tried to put on a brave face and pretend that all was well, but it ia clear to me that it's an act. Occasionally he mumbles under his breath, and I can't hear his full words, but I know that he's in pain.

Personally, I'm still a bit stunned myself. Meg is a baby -- and she has a baby? It blows my mind. Then again, she's been extremely competent taking care of the giant child sitting next to me in first class. She's the only one who has been able to calm him when he's upset about something. Meg has this power over him, and she hasn't needed plastic keys or toy cars to distract him. Secretly, I hope they can work this out. She's the best thing to happen to him outside of Olivia.

He stiffens next to me, his eyes glued straight ahead, and that's how I know the ladies have entered the plane. Meg's eyes are puffy and red, and Minnie places her hand on Meg's back to continue guiding her forward.

With a nod at Minnie, I signal to the overhead compartment where her bag is stored away so she can pick it up as she deplanes. Her eyes flicker to the bag, and then she smiles shyly at me. I giggle on the inside because it feels a little like a spy exchange from a movie. Only the contraband is merely her clothing from my Tribeca apartment.

Xavier and Meg make eye contact, and I can feel him coiled like a cobra about to strike until Meg looks away quickly, and he settles back in his seat, emotion wafting from him like the scent of curry in an apartment house in London.

I'm torn. Getting involved in this situation is not what I signed on for. I'm his co-star. Not his dad. Or his older brother. But it's clear he needs guidance here before he fucks up completely. Like I almost did with Minnie.

"Look, X," I start, "I know it's none of my business....."

Pausing there, I wait for him to assert himself and tell me to stay out of it, but his protestations don't come, so now I'm stuck. I've got to finish my sentence because he's looking at me expectantly.

".....but what part of this situation bothers you the most?"

Bewildered, he looks at me, "What do you mean? The whole thing bothers me!"

With a small smile, I twist in my seat so I can better face him. "No. I mean which part bothers you the most? That she has a kid? That she lied to you? That she's not a virgin?"

Glaring at me before he turns sulkily to the window, Xavier growls "All of it. Okay? Just drop it!"

With a gentle jolt, the plane is pushed away from the gate, and I settle in with my journal to jot down some thoughts. My brain has been humming away under the surface for the last few weeks, and I want to capture the bits and pieces of lyrics that have floated there before they drift away and escape, never to be heard again.

It's when we're in the air, and the flight attendant brings around our hot towels that Xavier speaks again, "I don't understand why she kept this a secret, H." His voice is soft, not harsh like usual.

"I can't imagine how scary it must be to exist in our world as a single mom," I start, trying hard not to sound like a lecturer. "She would have to be very sure that people are going to stay in her life before she springs a child on them."

He's not protesting, but I don't sense agreement in him either, so I continue talking, "And keeping secrets from people you care about is hard work. I've never been very successful at it although I've gotten better with practice."

X glances at me in surprise. The steward asks for our drink orders, and I'm confident X is going to order something alcoholic, but he surprises me with his request for ginger ale. Although I could use some fortification, I decide to set a good example, asking for black coffee.

"You keep secrets, H?" he questions me, but his attention is on the tray table as he unfolds it from the armrest.

Do I keep secrets? Oh, hell yes. I definitely have some things I've only shared with a few trusted individuals. "Mhm," I mumble, "I mean, being in the public eye is hard, but if everyone knows everything about you, it just makes life nearly impossible. Cause then when you want to change, there's a lot of people happily throwing old stories back in your face." Trust me, I speak from experience here.

"But Meg isn't a celebrity," he whines, and the depth of his pain hits home for me once more.

"No, she isn't. But she works for one, and I'm sure she has plans to work for other celebrities. Do you think she should tell her next employer about her child right away?" Our meals have been served, and I dig into the fresh fruit, not missing his stunned expression at the mention of another boss for Meg.

Quietly, I consume my breakfast, and despite the poor quality of the food, I find the cold oatmeal to be nourishing. Xavier stabs at the fruit, eating one piece at a time. The breakfast sandwich must be cold before he takes a single taste of it, and he only munches two or three bites of it, chewing thoughtfully in between.

I've finished my meal and requested another cup of coffee before he speaks again. His voice sounds like it's in a tunnel far away as he pushes the words out. "Harry? Is it stupid that I wanted to be her first? And her last?"

He cringes when he asks the question, and I feel for him, so I contemplate my response carefully. "I don't think it's stupid. I think it's sweet." Xavier rolls his eyes when I make that pronouncement, but I continue talking, "Look. Being someone's first is amazing and a great memory. But being someone's last....man, that is where the truly special lives."

Swinging his head towards me, Xavier narrows his eyes as if to make sure I'm telling the truth.

"Listen," I continue, "It's not important to be the first. What really matters is how you make her feel when you're the one she's with. If you make her moan and make her...." I shrug here, "you know, come," I whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear, "then she will remember you way more than she remembers her first."

I can see I'm getting through to him, as he nods sagely, turning his attention back to the window as he watches the farmland underneath us in its quilted fabric of greens and browns.

The flight attendant removes our trays, refilling my coffee again and offering X another ginger ale which he declines. In the silence that ensues, I return to my journal, capturing some thoughts about the topic I'd just been discussing with Xavier: sex. Giving a woman pleasure. I consider it a great honor to bring her to the brink and watch her tip over the edge. These thoughts summon Minnie into my brain, and I jot down a few phrases to describe her face in that moment of ecstasy. My next album will be a tribute perhaps to getting women off. Or maybe getting one particular lady plunging into the abyss again and again?

When Xavier speaks this time, I can barely hear him. I have to put down my pen and journal so I can focus on him. We've been instructed to return our tray tables as we've begun our initial descent into Los Angeles, and the whine of the engines is loud enough that I need him to repeat what he's said.

"I said," he says more loudly, then tones down his voice as the guy across the aisle looks over at us. "I'm only nineteen. I don't think I'm ready to be a dad."

My heart aches. For starters, he's right. He's young and immature. But it also aches because I would give anything to be a dad right now, even with a built-in opportunity like this. Then I focus on his words because he didn't say that he doesn't WANT to be a dad, merely that he's not sure he's prepared for the responsibility yet.

My next words are meant to pierce through his self-pity to the heart of the matter, "I bet Meg wasn't ready to be a mom at -- what? -- fifteen? Sixteen?"

He rears back his head, nostrils flaring as he scowls angrily at me. "What the fuck, Styles? Why you gotta bring that into it? Dammit." His eyes have teared up, and he angrily wipes them away with his fisted hand. "I didn't think about how young she must have been to have a three year old now," he whispers.

I let him stew for a few minutes before I twist the knife, "I suspect she's a really good mum, too. That kid is lucky to have her as his parent."

It's clear that he's been thinking about this situation from only one perspective: his. It's about time he got a shot of reality. And empathy for Meg.

When we get off the plane, Xavier barrels away from me, heading for the celebrity exit. Having no clue what he's thinking, I can only hope that I've made my point. Although I could wait for Minnie and Meg, that would leave me exposed here at the airport, so I instead take advantage of the private car that has been dispatched to greet me on the tarmac. This trip has been quite sedentary, and I'm anxious to get a workout in. It's Friday, and there's usually a pick-up basketball game at Virginia Avenue Park. I need to sweat.