As senior spring wears on, my impending departure to Texas for a Baylor scholarship looms large in my future. Terrified of leaving my home and friends, I harbor a hostility I unleash only upon my family. Maggie and I spend more time together than Evy and I do at this point, for Evy and I know our friendship is like the stars—forever constant. Maggie and I, on the other hand, sense that we are more like a comet—a blinding bright thing that appears ever so briefly in the course of a lifetime.
Freshman year of college goes by quickly and I soon find myself arriving home for a much needed visit. My parents drop me off at Evy’s house on their way to Maine. The plan is for me to spend several days here, join in the fun of hometown Fourth of July celebrations, get reacquainted with friends, and then Dad will drive the three hours to pick me up and take me to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for the duration of the summer. I have a job waiting for me as a chamber maid in the Grey Goose Inn not far from where my grandparents live. I haven’t seen Scott since leaving for Baylor. He has, however, been in my constant thoughts. We haven’t communicated in any way but, when we see each other at the fireworks, it is clear that the feelings we have for one another have not changed. He has apparently given the whole celibacy thing the heave-ho because we spend the next two nights together. I am blissfully happy to be reunited with him.
I pull the blanket up over our naked bodies and snuggle close to his side. His arm draws me in tighter as if with just a little bit more effort we, like two droplets of water, can become one. He kisses the top of my head and says, “I’ve missed you so much.”
On my last day in Massachusetts, just a few hours before Dad is to arrive to pick me up, I call Maggie who I have mysteriously not run into at all. It is strange to not have seen her because I have seen so many other old friends. Nevertheless, she seems very happy to hear from me and asks if I can come over for a short time before I have to leave. I agree and walk the familiar path to The Old Mill. Everything seems the same and my thoughts travel back to the evening she told me such extraordinary things about herself.
Maggie throws her arms around me when she opens the door to the restaurant apartment. “I’m sorry we won’t have very much time together. C’mon in and have a seat.” We sit on the overstuffed couch, the same one we curled up in together on the moonlit night. “Have you had a good visit?” she asks hopefully. I tell her I have, that I have seen so many old friends, and that it has been a great visit. “Have you seen anyone special?” she asks peering deeply into my eyes.
I am puzzled by this question because it seems like a leading one. But, that is impossible. Perhaps it is the combination of my happiness and the lingering guilt over not sharing anything with her that night so long ago but, whatever it is, I feel almost ready to tell her about Scott. “Why do you ask?” I hedge.
Maggie looks away as if embarrassed and says, “Oh, I don’t know. There just seems to be a glow about you or something. It made me think that maybe something special had happened.” I smile eagerly at her and admit that I have seen someone special. She practically pounces on me when she says, “Who? Oh please tell me everything. I, too, am seeing someone new and I wanted to tell you all about it but only if you had someone. I didn’t want to brag like I did that night you stayed over and then make you all sad again because you couldn’t relate.”
I pause a moment over her comment. The truth is, I probably still can’t relate. Maggie sleeps with guys and has sex with guys because it feels good and because she can manipulate guys and control guys with it. She does it because she is infatuated and that’s how she expresses her enthusiasm about being with them. I, on the other hand, am more than just in love. What I feel for Scott is bigger than I am; I can control nothing about it. Her eager eyes bore into me with anticipation willing me to give up my secret. And so I do.
I explain that my relationship with Scott has been going on for a few years, that the last two nights have been heavenly, that I will probably cry for days because I have to leave. I am pouring forth all my feelings, but before I can quite finish, she interrupts me, a smile firmly plastered on her face, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. She says, “He’s here.”
My mouth is still open, the words I am getting ready to say a moment ago trapped in my throat. As if a sort of tsunami has just exploded in my bloodstream, I feel immediately overwhelmed with a wave of heat. “What?” I ask as a look of panic creeps into my eyes. Surely I have heard wrong.
Maggie is still smiling almost like she is coaxing a recalcitrant child to take his medicine. “He’s here,” she repeats indicating with her nodding head toward her bedroom.
The whole scene is surreal. I can’t figure out why she is smiling and telling me this with such enthusiastic excitement as if we’ve discovered the astonishing fact that we were both born in the same hospital on the same day. She is saying “He’s here” as if that is something we both should celebrate when we both must know it is a disaster.
My clothes feel as if they’re strangling me; I feel ugly, and dirty. It’s difficult for me to breathe. “I should go then,” I whisper as I stand up. I don’t know what else to do. By telling her, I have betrayed him. By his being there, he has betrayed me. I am horrified that he may have heard what I said. The walls are thin in this apartment and if he is in the little alcove of her bedroom, he surely has heard everything. There is nothing else to do but go.
Maggie hugs me as she says, “It was great to see you.”
I nod and force a smile, knowing I must leave in a hurry. “You too,” I croak. “Bye,” I wave over my shoulder not wanting to look at her face any longer. The tears start to flow before I reach the first landing. I literally run the half-mile back to Evy’s house and quietly sneak downstairs to her room. We have already said our goodbyes because she and her family have gone to a family friend’s birthday party for the afternoon. Dad will be arriving in about an hour and I can’t indulge in tears any longer lest he sees that I’ve been crying.
It is a silent ride up to Maine as the scene at Maggie’s plays over and over in my head. I keep trying to remember exactly what I said, exactly what she said, exactly what he might have heard. But, worst of all, I start to imagine what has happened after my hasty departure.
I text Evy a message to say I miss her already and decide that when she comes up to Maine at the end of July, I will tell her everything. I can’t bear the weight of this secret any longer. It is a secret that is also a lie—a lie to myself.
Copyright by DJ Anderson 2011
