Slow Dance in Purgatory(59)

The leather book was a personal journal filled with Roger’s scribblings over the decades. He had done some of his own detective work, and he had several theories about where Johnny Kinross had escaped to. None of them were even close to the truth. He had periodically done a recap and an update of his findings and recorded them in the journal. One thing was evident. He didn’t believe Johnny Kinross was dead, and it had eaten at him slowly and surely through the years.

Eventually, Irene shut the journal and eased herself up, stretching and groaning, from the window seat. “Do what you want with all this, Maggie. You can throw it out or put it back inside the window seat, but it’s yours to keep or destroy. Take the little key off the ring when you’re done here, and put the rest of the keys back in the desk drawer in the library.” Irene hesitated for several long breaths, as if struggling with the counsel that she needed to impart. “Just don’t let it become an obsession, Maggie, like it became to poor Roger,” she warned, looking down at her niece, who sat staring at the photos of Johnny once again.

Maggie met her aunt’s concerned gaze and shook her head slowly. “I already know what happened to Johnny, Aunt Irene. I don’t need any of this.”

“True…but you are obsessed, all the same.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Maggie whispered. “I’m in love.”

***

On Christmas Eve, Irene and Maggie watched “It’s A Wonderful Life” together with a big bowl of buttery popcorn wedged between them. Maggie wondered if angels really had to earn their wings to get to heaven like old Clarence in the movie, or if they were stuck in Purgatory like Johnny until they did. That night she cried herself to sleep, wishing somehow she could spend Christmas with Johnny, hating that he was alone as he had been every other Christmas for over half a century. She fought the almost irresistible urge to sneak from the house and head to the school; she even stole out of bed and changed her clothes. But her key was gone. Had Gus anticipated that she wouldn’t be able to stay away and taken her key? She headed back to bed, defeated.

She woke up Christmas morning and was thrilled with the stocking that her aunt had filled with treats and trinkets. Maggie recognized a few of them from Irene’s own jewelry box. She wanted to refuse them, but it would have hurt Irene. She thanked her aunt graciously and then skipped under the tree to retrieve the package holding the blue scarf she had found at a little boutique on Honeyville’s Main Street.

Shad and Gus came over for Christmas dinner, and Maggie presented them with their gifts. Gus had been easy to buy for. He desperately needed a new hat; the brim on his looked like it had been slept in – repeatedly. Shad was much harder. She wanted to give him something meaningful without him assigning too much meaning to it. She had finally settled on a Superman comic book that had set her meager bank account back a significant amount. She was glad she’d chosen it, though, when Shad opened it and went wild.

The holiday passed quickly, and 2011 arrived with little fanfare. Maggie went to the school several times through the Christmas break, but always in the company of Shad and Gus for janitorial duties or with her dance team for rehearsals. She made no attempt to seclude herself or call out to Johnny, and she didn’t feel him nearby. There was an emptiness about the school that was almost tangible. Maggie imagined Johnny floating somewhere far from her. If she called him, could she pull him back? Such thoughts shamed her with their weakness, but she couldn’t help herself; she missed him desperately.

The first day back to school after the vacation, Maggie woke up extra early and pedaled to the school. She needed to dance. Rehearsals with the team kept the crazies at bay, but she needed to move and sweat and feel without an audience. A few days prior, her key had magically reappeared, right where she had left it, sitting innocently on the desk in her room. Had she just overlooked it? She didn’t think so. Maybe Gus was extending some trust, silently entreating her not to blow it.

It was only 5:30 a.m. when she flipped on the sound system, peeled off her coat, and slipped off her shoes. She always danced with bare feet. She set her ipod on random and began to warm-up, jumping and stretching, limbering herself up. She loved the challenge of dancing to a song that a choreographer would never pick, simply because it didn’t have the right kind of sound or rhythm. Those were the best songs, because they forced her to really interpret the song through her movements, and she loved getting lost in the fusion of sound and soul. She danced until the halls started filling up with students, and she was forced to quit.

Every morning that week she arrived just as early and danced just as hard. She had been dancing for about an hour when an old favorite seeped through the speakers and into her battered heart. It was beautifully, hauntingly done. And for a minute she stopped and just listened.



I’ve lost my mind

Your love’s made me blind

I can’t even speak

Your love’s made me weak



But if you watch me I’ll show you

And if you let me I’ll hold you

So the words that I can’t say

You’ll hear anyway

You’ll know how much I long for you

How every note’s a song for you

You’ll know

How I just want to breathe you in

And lose myself inside your skin

I’ll hold you and you’ll know