Slow Dance in Purgatory(24)

"See you tomorrow, Mags," Shad sighed like he carried the weight of the world, or at least Honeyville, on his shoulders. He stepped out of the car and shut the heavy door behind him.

"Shad!" Maggie called after him, wondering if she should hang around for moral support. Shad leaned down, sticking his head through the partially opened window. “Please go, okay, Mags? Just .....just go, okay?" He pleaded sweetly, and Maggie nodded her consent.

He withdrew his head, and Maggie backed out, wishing she could help, but knowing that there wasn't a damn thing she could do. Yep, life sucked sometimes.

***

Maggie wasn’t sure what had awakened her – but the moonlight shone brightly through her open curtains, and the room was lit up in white moon glow. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, disoriented and grumpy. She cried out in terror as a big man suddenly loomed at the end of her bed. He didn’t lunge for her or seek to silence her scream, but instead lumbered over to the cushioned window seat that jutted out below her big window that looked out over Irene’s flower garden. She knew him…he’d been in her room before.

With some difficulty, Roger Carlton knelt beside the window seat and pulled the cushion off. Inserting a key into a little lock that had been covered by the pillow, he lifted the seat, exposing a hollowed out area that looked empty except for the large book of some sort that he pulled from inside. Grunting heavily, he heaved himself up, shut the lid, and then sank back down on it. When he opened the heavy tome, Maggie could see what looked like newsprint and black and white photos.

The ghost of Roger Carlton perused the pages slowly, one by one. Maggie couldn’t see what he was looking at, but he seemed absorbed by what he studied, his face twisted in concentration. She knew he wasn’t really in her room. This was simply something he’d done many times when he was alive, and she was getting a repeat performance…again. The book he read may very well be sitting inside the window bench at this very moment, or it could have been moved before he died. Still, her heart pounded and her limbs shook as she watched him finger the words and pictures intently, turning a page only after staring at the previous one for what seemed an eternity.

Suddenly, his image winked out, and Maggie was left staring at the empty bench, its cushion restored, completely alone in her room. On shaking legs, she crept from her bed and pulled the thin cushion from the bench. She tried to lift the lid as she had seen Roger do, but it was locked tight. Maggie stood, looking out the window into the backyard at the light and shadows that colored the empty flower beds, leafless trees, and bristly shrubs in varying shades of grey. She would really have to see about getting a new room. This was the second time she’d had to wake up to Roger Carlton. She didn’t think she could stomach sharing her room with his old secrets.





8


“LITTLE THINGS MEAN A LOT”

Kitty Kallen - 1954





Maggie didn't see Johnny on Monday before school, though she came early and waited, trying to dance and failing miserably. She had even called out to him and tried not to be hurt when he didn't come. What had happened? Had the revelation of the year been too much for him? She had thought of a million things she wanted to ask him, and a million things she could have told him. She should tell him how his mother had married, he would like that wouldn't he? She could tell him what Gus had told her, that his mother had never really stopped looking for him, and how she had never believed he had left his brother willingly. But those things were so personal. How could she possibly talk to him about anything like that? The whole thing was a minefield that Maggie was afraid she would have to cross at some point. If she ever got to see him again, that is.

She felt rejected throughout the long morning and was late getting to her first hour class. Her psych teacher called on her three times before she heard him, drawing some laughter from her classmates, and her eyes ached from squinting at the board. By lunch, her backpack was so heavy that she headed to her locker to relieve herself of unnecessary books. Shad was laughing next to her about something he had seen on You Tube. He thought it was hilarious and kept re-enacting the skit for her. Maggie tried to keep up for his benefit but knew she wasn’t giving him the response he sought. She couldn’t help it. She felt absolutely miserable.

She shrugged her crammed book bag to the floor and spun in the combination to her locker. She only got it right half of the time, but this time it sprang open easily. She knelt and unloaded her backpack glumly and was just about to slam her locker shut, when she saw something from the corner of her eye. Maggie’s breath caught in her throat, and her hand fluttered to cover her mouth. Her glasses, perfectly restored, had been placed deliberately on the top shelf in her locker. They weren’t accompanied by a note or hundreds of rose petals, but Maggie couldn’t have been more thrilled if there were.

“Mags?...MAGS!” Shad was getting a little perturbed. “Where are you today, baby? I’m beginning to consider gettin’ myself another girlfriend - “

Maggie giggled, her depression instantly erased. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed Shad’s cheek, shutting him up mid-rant.

“Sorry Shad. I’ll try to do better…and Shad? I’m not your baby, or your girl.” She laughed again. Grabbing her glasses and swinging her locker shut, she floated down the hall, euphoric.

“No problem, baby,” Shad called after her, clearly cheered by Maggie’s unexpected public display of affection. “It’s all good! I forgive you. You’re still my lady…”