Prom Night in Purgatory(25)

The silence inside the car was thick and stifling, Johnny’s words sucking all the oxygen from the space.

“The people I care about are old or dead too,” Maggie whispered.

Johnny barked out an incredulous laugh and shot a stunned look at Maggie. She stared back, daring him to challenge her statement.

“It’s not the same thing!” Johnny looked like he was about to break something, but Maggie held her ground. His eyes blazed in the dim light, and his jaw was clenched hard enough to shatter his teeth.

“I know. It’s not,” she soothed. “But alone is still alone however you come by it. And you and I really aren’t all that different.”

Maggie reached out tentatively and smoothed the hair from his brow, resting her hand alongside his face. His eyes closed briefly, and he pressed his cheek into her hand for less than a heartbeat. Then he pulled away with a groan, and Maggie’s hand dropped back to her lap.

“Ah Maggie. Just go...just...please, go. I apologized once, and I don’t want to have to do it again, but at this point the only kind of comfort you can give me does not involve conversation.”

Maggie’s heart stuttered and then sped up at the implication of his backhanded offer. His eyes met hers defiantly.

“Go!” he ordered. He leaned across her to open the door, and then he shoved it wide. Maggie burned where he’d brushed against her. He looked away, waiting for her to exit the car.

Maggie slid out without another word, shutting the door behind her. It wasn’t until Johnny had pulled away that she remembered Irene’s car was still at Shimmies. Sighing, she began the long walk back to the place she had started from, in more ways than one.

***

She worried about Johnny all day Saturday. She slept restlessly, ate poorly, and generally couldn’t get his distraught face out of her head. It’s easy to stay away when you’re pushed, easy to believe you’re not needed or wanted. And it was even easier to imagine that Johnny would do fine without her. He was strong and capable and more resilient than anyone she knew. But it wasn’t easy to stop loving him, not easy at all. So she worried.

Finally, by Sunday afternoon, she decided she would just stop in and check on him, put her mind at ease, and quickly retreat. It had rained steadily all day, and Maggie swerved to hit every puddle she could on the way to Jillian Bailey’s house, just to distract herself. When she reached the Bailey bungalow, she hopscotched through the water to reach the front steps and, taking a deep breath, rapped several times on the door. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jean jacket and braced herself for an answer.

But Johnny wasn’t home. It was Jillian Bailey who answered the door. Maggie had psyched herself up for nothing. Jillian sniffed experimentally out at the saturated air and then inhaled deeply, closing her eyes in appreciation.

“I’ve been waiting for the rain to stop so I could sit out here and enjoy the aftermath.” Jillian sank down on the top step of her little porch and patted the spot next to her.

“Sit with me for a minute, Maggie.”

The concrete was slightly damp, but Maggie acquiesced, perching on the step and pulling her knees in close to her chest so she could prop her chin on them.

“I thought after the last time you came that you might not come again,” Jillian confessed and shot a sympathetic look Maggie’s way.

“He was in rare form after you left. I couldn’t even get him to come in for dinner, and he kept that music on until all hours of the night, even though I know he doesn’t care for it. I finally understood what it was like to actually raise a teenager and not just send them home at the end of the school day.”

“He apologized....but I definitely don’t seem to have a calming affect on him, that’s for sure,” Maggie added, and smiled ruefully to ease the sting the words left in her heart. “That’s actually why I’m here. I saw him Friday night. He gave me a ride home.” Although she hadn’t actually needed one, Maggie added silently. “He saw some pictures at Shimmies that upset him. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what set him off,” Jillian sighed.

“He says everyone he knew is old or dead.”

“He’s right, Maggie. They are.”

“I told him everyone I care about is old or dead too, though that isn’t entirely true. I care about him.”

“He cares about you too, Maggie,” Jillian supplied softly.

Maggie bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Why was it that kindness reduced her to a puddle? Call her names, reject her, neglect her, and she could handle it, but say something kind or sympathetic, and she was defenseless.

“He calls your name in his sleep,” Jillian continued. “He may push at you and pretend that he doesn’t want you, but there’s a reason you don’t have a calming affect on him. You’ve gotten under his skin.”

“He calls my name?” Maggie exclaimed, shocked.

“He may not remember you here,” Jillian tapped her head, “but he knows you here,” she settled her hand on her heart. “He’s not really fighting you, he’s fighting the contradiction. Although it probably feels that way.”

Maggie’s chin trembled again, and she fought for composure. Jillian seemed to understand and gave her a moment to regroup.

“My mother always said he would come back.” She deftly turned the subject away from Maggie. “She made arrangements for him. She wouldn’t even refer to him in the past tense and wouldn’t allow me to, either. It drove my dad nuts, but he loved her, so he tolerated what he thought was a mother’s inability to let go.”