Prom Night in Purgatory(28)

Maggie shrugged, using nonchalance and bravado to cover what had been a very unsettled life.

“Your mom and dad aren't around?"

“They died when I was ten. I've spent the last few years living in different homes. It hasn't been too bad."

Johnny looked at her gravely, his mouth drawn into a long line. He didn't challenge her.

"I got to come live with Irene after Roger died. He didn't want her to take me in. I think she would have anyway, but worried that he would make my life miserable...more miserable than not having a home at all.”

"Roger Carlton messed up both of our lives," he bit out.

"Roger Carlton messed with many lives," Maggie retorted, her thoughts on Irene.

"It seems kind of unfair that you know so much about me but I don't know anything about you," Johnny remarked, changing the subject. Maggie was glad. They had had the conversation about Roger before, whether Johnny could remember it or not.

Maggie ducked her head. She didn't tell him that once he had known everything about her. "You probably know more than you think."

"Well, I know you like to dance."

Maggie nodded and held up a finger. One thing.

"And you're good at it."

Maggie smiled, shrugging, but she lifted another finger. Two things.

"Oh, please. You know damn well you're amazing. You don't think I watched you the other night? The whole place was glued to your every move," he paused. "I was egging you on, you know. I wanted you to go out there. I wanted to see you..."

"You did not!' Maggie interrupted hotly. "You didn't think I could. You think I'm unattractive and boring.”

"Keep tellin' yourself that, Maggie, and I'll keep telling myself that, and we'll both be happier in the long run."

Maggie jumped to her feet, abandoning her dinner and the boy who seemed intent on hurting her feelings, for the safety of the swings. She had barely gained any height, when strong hands gripped her waist as she descended and pushed her skyward once more. Johnny continued to push her higher and higher as Maggie closed her eyes and let the wind she'd created dance in her hair and lift her into the night. After a while, Johnny stopped pushing, and Maggie reluctantly slowed, looking around to find him.

He sat on the swing to the right of her, but he wasn't swinging. He sat with his long legs spread before him, his arms bent and hanging loosely from the chains.

"I wasn't a sure thing," he commented as she slowed to a stop.

Maggie tried to make out his expression in the darkness that had deepened while she had swung.

"No,....I guess not," Maggie agreed. "You were a risk."

"And you're not a risk taker."

"It wasn't a conscious choice, really. In some ways we needed each other. But I didn't fall in love with you because I needed you."

"No?" Johnny's voice was soft.

"No. I fell in love with you because you were good and brave, and you laughed at my jokes, and you made me feel beautiful, and for a million other reasons. It would have been easier to pretend I couldn't see you. But I've never been able to pretend with you. Maybe that's what loving someone does; it strips us of our defenses. I've spent the last eight years pretending I'm fine. I can't seem to pretend anymore." Maggie began to swing again, but Johnny stood and held the chains, hindering her efforts. He stood behind her so Maggie couldn't see his face as he began to speak.

"Today, I rode down Main Street and all over the town, up and down streets that look almost nothing like the Honeyville I remember. The house I lived in isn’t even standing anymore. There’s a big apartment building there. I went to your house today, to Irene’s house. I just parked my car and sat. It’s one of the only places that still looks the same. Older, a little worn-out....but still here. Your aunt saw me. I think I scared her to death. She just stood there, staring at me. I don’t know who was more surprised. Yesterday, she was a beautiful girl. She looked a lot like you.” Maggie swung her head around to meet his gaze. He met her eyes and then looked away again, resuming his watch of the moon.

“Yeah, you’re beautiful. And you damn well know it. I’d have to be blind not to see it. Even Irene couldn’t hold a candle to you.” Maggie sat in stunned silence, all other thoughts fleeing from her girlish brain with his stunning admission.

“Yesterday she was a beautiful girl,” he repeated, “and today she’s an old woman.” His voice was loud in the quiet, and harsh, and Maggie flinched at his cold pronouncement.

“Irene walked out to the car, and I got out. She just looked at me. She thanked me for saving you. Her hands and her voice shook. I didn’t know what to say. I can’t remember saving you, so it seems wrong to take any credit for it.”

Maggie’s heart grieved for what he had lost, and what she’d lost as well. He had loved her. He had wrapped her in his arms in a fiery inferno. And he couldn’t remember.

“She was afraid of me. And I don’t blame her.” Johnny looked at her then, defiance and sorrow warring across his handsome face. “I’m afraid too. All my life, when things got hard, I just pushed back, worked a little harder, got mad, used my fists, whatever. But this is something else. If it was just the sadness, or the guilt, or missing my momma and Billy and wishing I could see them again, I think I could learn to live with that. But the fear, the not knowing who I am or what I am -- I don’t know how to fight it.”