I slammed the apartment door, tossed my bag onto the sofa, and dialed Steph.
"Maggie, forget the loser. Move on. How many times must I repeat these instructions?"
"Maybe they're just friends, Steph. Do you think I'm over-reacting?"
An exasperated exhale assaulted my ears. "Maggie, if they were just friends, he would have excused himself and walked into that damn jewelry store to say hello. Or better yet, he would have towed her inside to meet you. He sure as hell wouldn't have run away if they were just friends," she replied.
I hoped it was my imagination, but I swore I heard her fingernails drumming on something. "He didn't run away," I shot back.
"How do you know? You just said you put your head down so he wouldn't see you. Believe me, the wimp ran."
"Maybe they are just friends, and Sam didn't stop because he felt bad about making Eric wait in the coffee shop for so long," I rationalized--more to myself than to Stephanie.
"Right," she said in a tone laden with sarcasm. "They didn't want to be late for the opening night of the opera. Justify it all you want, Maggie. He's with her now, and you should be figuring out a way to get in touch with Nick."
Not Nick again. Wasn't the current Sam situation painful enough? "Please, I don't want to hear about, talk about, or think about Nick. Steph, I have to go. My other line is ringing. I'll call you later."
I listened to her hang up and powered off my phone. Then I walked on to my balcony, sat on the green plastic lawn chair that lived outside all year round. She and Amy needed to stop double teaming me with the Nick stuff. My eyes locked onto the columns of the Carnegie Mellon building on the other side of the street, and my mind drifted...
***
"Thanks for helping me with my bags, Nick. You don't have to stay and wait. The bus will be here in a few minutes. Go. Hit the beach for one last time."
"I'll wait," he replied, staring at the sidewalk.
We stood silently in front of the bus station. I didn't know what to say, and obviously, he didn't either. On his best day, Nick could hardly be still, now he swayed and fiddled with his car keys.
"I see it coming." My voice was barely a whisper.
"Yeah, I do too," he replied.
The bus doors opened. A handful of glazed-eyed passengers emerged. Nick dragged my over-stuffed, army duffle bag to the side of the bus and handed it to the bus driver. He groaned as he heaved it into the luggage compartment.
"I guess this is good-bye," I said quietly. Unable to look at him, I stared at my feet, waiting for him to say something, anything.
"Yeah, I guess it is," he said.
I looked at him and, as always, my heart pounded. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me. I reached up and ran my fingers through his silky black curls for one last time. His good bye kiss felt hollow, more like an echo of a kiss. Releasing me from his arms, he said, "Do well in school, Maggie."
The bus driver held his hand out for my ticket. Trying to appear cheerful, I said, "You, too."
The doors closed and, through watery eyes, I found a window seat in the middle of the bus, on the side facing away from Nick.
***
The screaming sound of an ambulance siren jolted me back to Pittsburgh, and a shudder passed through my body. Nick forgot my name the minute the bus doors closed. That history would never repeat itself. Resolved, I walked off the balcony to my cluttered desk in the corner and started typing a guest list for Amy.
I typed the last name on the list and, as I hit the save button, Amy's words about a date popped into my mind. Who would want me for a date? Justin's infamous Thanksgiving speech had squashed my dreams of romance. The letters on the screen appeared precise and organized, but the list felt incomplete. I tilted the office chair backward, as far as it could go before flipping over, and closed my eyes...
***
Dragging my aching body up the two flights of steps that ended in my kitchen, I thought, Why do rainy days make tourists miserable? Fine, I understand a beach vacation is about sunshine, but do they have to take their frustrations out on the waitress? Some days, you had to wonder if the word "please" was still in the dictionary because no one ever used it in a sentence.
Stephanie greeted me at the front door. With her hands planted on her hips, she said, "What the hell took you so long to get home? Get in the living room and deal with them before it gets ugly. Gross, you smell like onion ring grease."
I collapsed onto the last step into our second-floor apartment and kicked off my work shoes. "What the hell are you talking about? What's going to get ugly?"
Stephanie contorted her face into her exasperated-diva expression. "Lizzy, remember her, the girl who sleeps in the room next to us," she said, shoveling on the sarcasm. "Brought home her boyfriend and that roommate of his, Jeff. Allegedly, Jeff hasn't stopped talking about you since the night you met in Margate. He begged to see you again. Lizzy couldn't stand listening to him anymore, so she caved and now Jeff is in the living room."
Her eyes made it perfectly clear she wanted me to sprint into the living room. I still didn't understand. So I sat and pulled my socks off.
"Maggie!" exploded from her lungs. "Nick is in the damn living room, and it didn't take long for them to figure out they came to see the same girl. So get your ass in there and keep one from killing the other. They're starting to growl at each other. And what the hell is Lizzy's boyfriend's name?"
From my vantage point on the top step, I swear I saw her stomp her sized-five-and-a-half foot. I leaned back onto my elbows.
My head hurt more than my feet. "Lizzy's boyfriend's name is Tony, and you should know that by now. He eats our food and sleeps here five out of seven nights a week. Cut the histrionics. Jeff may be in our living room, but not because of me." I got back up onto my feet. "Stephanie," I said as I walked past her. "You're annoying."
She huffed. "Annoying or not, it looks like you have a male harem."
***
Smiling to myself, I thought, Yep, on that day, I could have had two dates. Steph still harassed me about it. The irony was she'd always string along two or three guys. The memory buoyed my courage. I typed the final name on to the guest list, attached it to an email, and hit the Send button. Guest list finished.
An hour later, the phone rang, and I knew who it was before I looked at the screen. "Maggie, what is wrong with you? I refuse to send Sam an invitation. Why do you want him to come?"
"Do you want the full list of reasons or would you prefer the top three."
"Maggie, you are supposed to be moving on with your life." Exasperation permeated her words.
"No, I'm not, Amy. You want me to meet someone new. My goal is and always will be the same, get Sam back. So I want him at my graduation party. Besides, he helped me get into law school and survive the first year. He spent hours helping me study for the LSAT, and he made sure I got to class on time."
"Wow, huge support," she replied, and I think I heard her rolling her eyes. "I always liked Sam, but he left you, and it hurt me as much as it did you. You want him at the party, you invite him. I refuse."
"Fine, I will. I'll send him an email," I replied.
She hung up the phone without a good-bye.
I lacked the courage to tell Amy that I saw him with another girl. She would never understand why seeing him with that girl made inviting him even more necessary. He can't move on. I won't let him.
She'll get over it, I thought while opening the refrigerator door. As usual, nothing good to eat, and I had no one to blame but myself. I pulled a bag of pretzels out of the cabinet, swore to grocery shop over the weekend, sat down on the sofa, and turned on the TV. Fifteen minutes into the movie, a text message popped onto my cell phone screen.
Sorry. I love you. But I'm still not sending an invitation.
Quickly, I typed back: I love you, too. Fine, I'll send an e-mail on the day you mail the invitations.
Then send it tomorrow.
I typed back: Tomorrow, are you ki
dding? I just sent you the guest list.
Party is less than six weeks away. We're already late with the invites. I'm mailing your list tomorrow, she texted.
Fine. It will go out tomorrow.
***
I loved the fact my new pharmaceuticals made it easy to pay attention in class. With the brain noise cleared, the professor's words went from my ears to the storage part of my brain. This semester was quickly becoming my easiest, except for today. Instead of listening, I mentally typed invitation after invitation to Sam. Some of them were long and mushy and others sounded clipped and professional. By the end of my last class of the day, I still had no idea what to write to my ex-fiancé.
Tired and hungry, I stopped at "The O." After ordering a burger and fries, I found a booth with a table top that appeared to be less greasy than the others. Just for safe measure, I swiped a clean napkin over the table before setting up my laptop. I started typing.
Dear Sam,
I hope this e-mail finds you well. As you are aware, I will be--
"Order up, large fries, chicken parmesan sandwich and a coke," yelled the sweaty college student behind the counter.
I read what I wrote. I hope this e-mail finds you well." I hit the delete button. Ugh, stupid, I rubbed my temples and inhaled, then started again.
Dear Sam,
On May 19th, Amy and my mom are having a small graduation luncheon for me. I wanted to invite you personally, because without you, I don't think that I would--"
Reflexively, my head shifted when a loud bass voice barked. "Extra-large pepperoni pizza and a sprite."
Before I could start typing again, the pizza guy let out another yell. "One large with mushrooms, peppers and onions."
The crowd grew larger and louder, and thinking became impossible. I stuffed my computer into my bag and hoped that my food would be ready soon. For the first time, I looked around at the faces of the other people waiting for their orders. A few looked familiar, and leaning against a big black video game machine near the front door was a tall, lanky guy with a head full of messy blond hair. Standing and furiously waving my arms, I attempted to get his attention through the crowd. A light in his eyes flicked on when he noticed me. He waved back and I mouthed the words, "Sit with me," and pointed to the bench on the other side of the table. During the last three years, Tom and I had bonded over homework and a lot of shared law school misery.
"I see that someone else is too lazy to cook," I said and smiled.
"Yeah," he replied. "The heartburn is awful, but the taste is great. Are you waiting for someone?"
I shook my head. "I'm waiting for something, a burger and fries. It's taking forever, though."
"Here or to go?" he asked with an odd expression on his face.
"To go, of course. If I must eat alone, I prefer to do it in my own kitchen."
"Why don't we eat here together?" he asked.
Smiling, I nodded in agreement. Minutes later the skinny kid squealed, "Burger and fries" and the loud guy yelled, "Small, pepperoni and mushroom."
We attacked our gourmet grease with gusto. Conversation flowed easily with Tom, and I'd miss him after graduation. He was off to Harrisburg to learn the political ropes in a law firm specializing in lobbying. With his charm and brains, he would be the firm's golden boy in no time.
After laughing until my sides hurt, I caught my breath and swallowed the final french fry in the bag, and he downed his last bite of pizza crust. We gathered up all the paper plates and napkins and dumped them into the trash. As I was about to say good-night, his eyes became serious, and he slowly picked up my hand. "Maggie, for the first year of law school, I tried to work up the courage to ask you to dinner. Then I found out about Sam and gave up on the idea. When he left, I prayed you would finally notice me. Now, it's ironic that a few weeks before graduation, my dream dinner alone with you, comes true. Well, sort of true. I always imagined it would be some place a bit more romantic. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I think you're beautiful, and I'll always be just a phone call away if you're interested."
Stunned silent, heat rose into my face, and I forced a sound out of my throat. "Tom, I had no idea you were interested in anything beyond hanging out between classes." I hugged him. Releasing my arms, I stepped back in order to see his face. His expression practically exploded with anticipation and hope. "Tom, you're a wonderful guy, and I've enjoyed every minute we've spent together, but I'm still in love with Sam. Maybe someday I'll stop loving him, but right now I don't want to imagine that day."
"I understand, Maggie. I figured since I have nothing to lose, why not lay it on the table," he said with a disappointed shrug.
Unable to resist, I hugged him again. "You deserve so much better than me, Tom." This time when I let go, his face looked blank. For a brief moment, fear flashed through me. I didn't want to lose our friendship. I looked at him and hesitated. "I'll see you tomorrow in class?"
His eyes brightened. "Sure thing, Maggie. I'll try to get us seats back far enough to avoid Professor Johnson's flying spit spray."
"That would be great. When I get stuck in the first row, I want to run home and wash my hair with an antibacterial shampoo," I said, relieved to see him smiling.
Then he stuck his hands into his front pockets and walked down Forbes Avenue. After a handful of steps, he turned and waved. I smiled and started walking in the other direction. Never, in all of these years, had it occurred to me that Tom had that kind of interest in me. He always acted sweet and brotherly. My thoughts jumbled together, Tom, Sam, and Nick...
I didn't know if the inspiration occurred over that cholesterol-infused meal or during the contemplative hike home, but the words for Sam's invitation suddenly flowed through my fingers and onto the screen. When Message Sent popped up on the screen, I felt surprisingly serene. The waiting began.
I didn't expect an instant answer, but I didn't expect to wait until two days before the party either. Checking my mail one final time before going to bed, I saw that an email from Sam arrived. I clicked open his message.
Dear Maggie,
I am so proud of you, and I know you will make a top-notch lawyer. My guess is that writing my invitation was difficult, so I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I can't come. That evening on Forbes Avenue, I saw you duck into that jewelry shop to avoid the awkwardness of saying hello to me and Michelle. We met during a new hire training class, and we've been seeing a lot of each other.
She's not you, Maggie. But I've accepted the fact that I'll always get chills when I see you and that a part of me will always love you. But Michelle doesn't throw things at me or scream crazy words at me. I know what to expect from her every day. No surprises. We match each other, Maggie. Things are good between us. Granted, she doesn't dance when she cleans or light up an entire room when she smiles, but she is sweet and stable.
I don't want to come to the party and hurt her. But more than that, it's still too painful to see you. -- Sam
CHAPTER 17
Aunt Rose
The law school administration packed graduation week with cocktail parties and dinners for the graduating class. Even though I lacked a date, I attended all the events. Tom, dateless also, stood by my side and spared both of us the awkwardness of being alone. I teased him about how handsome he looked in a suit and how nice he smelled. After seeing him wearing what seemed to be the same four shirts and pair of blue jeans for three years, I couldn't let the opportunity to make him blush slip through my fingers.
On the Wednesday before the graduation ceremony, my mom assigned me the job of picking my Great Aunt Rose up from the airport and driving her to Ellwood. I couldn't wait to see her. Not only had it been a few years since her last visit, but she had answers to the Ella mystery, sparing me another confrontation with Mildred.
Spotting Rose, through the crowd attacking the baggage claim, proved to be difficult. Age reduced her slight stature even farther. Sliding through the throes of tall people and repeatedly excusing myself as I bumped
against the shoulders and arms of strangers, I caught sight of her standing alone near the back of the baggage carousel. At first, she didn't see my waving arm. Once I passed through a clump of college students, she spotted me and gingerly began waving back. I hurried over to her and reached down to hug her. The embrace broke, but she continued to hold both of my hands. "Maggie, you look beautiful."
I told her she also looked beautiful and expressed my happiness at her coming for my graduation. Knowing that we had an hour long drive to Ellwood, I told her that we needed to get moving. I scanned the area around us, expecting to see her suitcase, but I couldn't find one. She took a step back "I am afraid that my suitcase is too heavy for me to lift off the belt. Would you be kind enough to remove it for me?"
"Of course, Aunt Rose. When you see your suitcase, point to it and I'll grab it."
Within minutes, she pointed to an old-style black suitcase. It wasn't heavy. I held it in one hand and gently clasped her arm with my other. Once we reached my car, she began to relax.
"I don't mind the flying part, but I dislike airports so. People behave rudely and totally lack patience, all because they must wait an extra five minutes for their bags."
"You're right, Aunt Rose. People are rude, but let's not waste time discussing them. Tell me, how are you? And Barbara?"
Barbara was Aunt Rose's only daughter. When my great uncle Willy passed away ten years ago, Aunt Rose moved to California to live with Barbara, a school teacher who never married. I like Barb a lot. She looks and acts exactly as a school teacher should. She hadn't come back to Ellwood in years.
Defective Page 15