Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(39)

I pull it right back open. I don’t do it to follow Maggie, though. I go straight to the kitchen and look at Warren. “Why did you tell me she cried and that she was scared?”

Maggie is standing on the other side of me, her arms crossed while she glares at Warren. He’s holding a soda, looking back and forth at both of us. His eyes finally land on me.

“I exaggerated. It’s not a big deal. You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

I force myself to inhale a calming breath. It’s either that or I’m going to punch him.

“It’s a long drive from Austin to San Antonio. Besides, we needed to be together. The three of us. We have to figure out how to deal with all of this going forward.”

“All of this?” Maggie says. She motions to herself. “You mean me? We have to figure out how to deal with me? I guess this proves I really am nothing but a burden to you guys.”

She isn’t yelling anymore. She’s only signing. But even though I can tell she’s hurting and upset, I’m still not convinced things would be different if she would take all this a little more seriously like I’ve been trying to get her to do for the last six years.

“You’re not a burden, Maggie,” I sign. “You’re selfish. If you took care of yourself and monitored your blood sugar and used your vest like you’re supposed to and—I don’t know—

maybe didn’t jump out of fucking airplanes, none of us would even be arguing. I’ve put Sydney in an awkward situation that she wouldn’t be in right now if you’d just take better care of yourself.”

Warren covers his face with his hand like I just screwed up.

Maggie rolls her eyes with exaggeration. “Poor Sydney. She really is the victim in all of this, isn’t she? Gets the man of her dreams and she’s healthy. Poor fucking Sydney!” She turns her attention on Warren. “Don’t ever force him to come take care of me again! I don’t need him to take care of me. I don’t need either of you to take care of me!”

Warren raises an eyebrow, but remains stoic. “With all due respect, you kind of do need us, Maggie.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and look down. I know that had to hurt her, and I don’t want to watch the sting. When I open my eyes again, she’s marching to her bedroom. She slams the door. Warren turns and punches the refrigerator. I walk to the table by the couch and grab Warren’s car keys.

“I want to leave.” I toss Warren his keys, but his eyes dart up to Maggie’s bedroom door. He rushes across the living room and swings the door open. Naturally, I rush with him because I can’t hear whatever it is he just heard.

Maggie is in her bathroom, hugging the toilet, vomiting. Warren grabs a washcloth and bends down next to her. I walk over and sit on the edge of the tub.

This happens when she has too much buildup in her lungs. I’m sure right now, it’s a combination of that and not using her vest for several days, and all the yelling she just did. I reach over and pull her hair back until it stops. It’s hard for me to be upset with her right now. She’s crying, leaning against Warren.

I don’t know what it’s like to be the one with this illness, so I probably shouldn’t be judging her actions so harshly. I only know what it’s like to be the one to care for someone with this illness. I used to have to remind myself of that all the time. No matter how frustrated I get, it’s nothing compared to what she must go through.

It looks like I still need that reminder.

Maggie won’t even look at me the whole time we wait with her to see if her episode is over. She doesn’t even look at me when we’re convinced it is over and Warren helps her to her bedroom. It’s her way of giving me the silent treatment. She used to refuse to look at me when she was mad because she didn’t want to give me the chance to sign to her.

Warren gets her in the bed, and I take her generator back to the living room. Once Maggie is settled, Warren leaves her door halfway open while he comes back to the living room and takes a seat on the couch.

I’m still pissed that he lied about their phone call in order to guilt me into coming. But I also understand why he did it. The three of us do need to sit down and figure this out. Maggie doesn’t want to be a burden, but until she buckles down and makes her health her primary focus, she’ll never be as independent as she wishes she could be. And as long as she’s dependent, it’s the two of us who will be taking care of her.

I know we’re all she has. And I know that Sydney understands that. I would never walk away from Maggie completely, knowing how much she needs someone in her corner. But when you do things that continue to belittle and even disrespect the efforts of those in your corner, eventually you’re going to lose your team. And without your team, eventually you lose the fight.

I don’t want her to lose the fight. None of us do. Which is why Warren and I stay, because she needs a treatment. And that can’t happen until I repair her vest.

Warren watches TV for the next hour, getting up once to take Maggie a glass of water. When he comes back into the room, he waves his hand to get my attention.

“Her cough sounds bad,” he says.

I just nod. I already know. It’s why I’m still trying to work on this vest.

It’s after 2:00 a.m. when I finally figure out the issue. I found an old generator she used to use in her hallway closet. I switched out the power cords and can get it to kick on, but it won’t stay on unless I’m holding the cord with my fingers.