When five minutes were up, I took Maggie’s hand into mine and led her to lie down on the bed. “Maggie…” I kissed her lips. “We don’t have to do what other people do…” I kissed her neck. “We’re not them. We don’t have to follow their guidelines.” I kissed her collarbone, and she closed her eyes as I moved down her body, kissing every inch of her, tasting every piece. “You don’t have to do things a certain way.”
I spread her legs apart, kissing her thighs. My mouth grazed against her skin and she twisted her fingers into my hair. “And you can always pinch me or hit me if you ever want to stop.”
She arched her hips up toward my mouth, demonstrating how much she wanted me to continue, silently begging me to taste her. Oh, how I wanted a taste. I glanced up at her, and her eyes were on me. She was watching my every move, and I wanted her to see it all. I wanted her to watch me explore her body, to taste her body, to love her body. She and I, we weren’t following anyone else’s rules, no one else’s transcript. We were writing our own story.
Leaning forward, I swept my tongue against her, slid a finger deep inside, and introduced her to chapter one.
15
Maggie
“I cannot believe that! I just can’t.”
The next Saturday night, Mama was having her girlfriends over. The girls had gone to high school with her, and since they now lived in different states, they only came around once or twice a year, which was too much if you asked me. Whenever they were around, I did my best to stay invisible. They weren’t the nicest people in the world. There were five of them, including Mama. Even though they had gone to high school together, I hadn’t a clue why they all traveled to hang out with each other—they couldn’t stand one another at all. Everything they talked about always seemed like a competition. If Loren’s daughter walked at ten months old, Wendy’s drove a car at nine months. If Hannah could run a 5k, Janice could do a 10k in less time.
Their favorite topic of all, though, was me. When it came to my silence, they were all professionals on what it meant to be mute.
I sat at the top of the stairs, listening to them discuss me that evening. I wished Brooks were over, but he and the boys were off watching some super indie underground band play at some hole-in-the-wall venue. He kept sending me videos of the space, where they were packed like sardines and it was loud as ever. Whenever the camera faced him and I saw his giddy smile, my heart fell for him just a little bit more.
I wanted to be there with him, feel him holding me in his arms, completely losing myself to the sounds. In the video, I saw Stacey swaying back and forth to the music with Calvin, and I felt selfish—selfish for not being there for Brooks, selfish for not being able to do the things normal couples did.
“She really has a boyfriend?” Loren questioned, finishing off her glass of wine before pouring some more. “How is that even…possible?”
“Who is it?” Wendy hammered.
“Brooks,” Mama said nonchalantly while eating chips and salsa.
“Brooks who?” Wendy hammered some more.
“Griffin.”
“What?” all four girls screeched at once.
“No way,” Janice said. “But Brooks is… He’s pretty popular with the ladies, isn’t he? I get that he visited her every day out of the kindness of his heart, but dating? That can’t be true.”
“Is that even healthy?” Loren questioned. “You know, with Maggie’s…condition?”
“Her condition?” Mama asked.
“You know, her…trauma. I’m just saying. I read an article once—” Loren started.
“You’re always reading articles once,” Hannah cut in, her tone a bit feisty.
“Yeah, but this one had actual scientific statistics. It said individuals who suffer traumatic incidents as children struggle with relapses in their healing when placed in relationships.”
“Loren,” Hannah scolded.
I liked Hannah. Mama should’ve stayed friends with her and ditched the others.
“What! It’s true. Her being with Brooks could trigger some kind of relapse, and really, what are they going to do? Date in Katie’s house forever? All I’m saying is this doesn’t seem like a good idea. It could really backtrack any progress, no matter how small, that Maggie has made. Plus, it doesn’t seem like a fair trade for Brooks. What does he get out of the equation?”
Shut up, Loren. He gets me.
I didn’t want to hear anymore, but I couldn’t walk away.
“You know what? I say que sera, sera,” Hannah chimed in. “They’re kids, let them live a little.”
Right on, Hannah! Hannah was the least dramatic of the group. If anything, she only showed up for the pizza and wine. I couldn’t fault her—Mama always ordered pizza from Marco’s, which was the best in town.
“That’s stupid thinking, Hannah. ‘Live a little.’ That’s the kind of thought that got you married three times and divorced three times.”
“I’m going for my fourth in both arenas, too.” Hannah poured herself some more wine, smiled, and started singing, “Que sera, sera.”
“You know how your mother feels about you eavesdropping,” Daddy whispered, walking up the staircase to sit beside me. He had a bag of peanut M&Ms in his hand and handed me a few. “Plus, these women are vipers. You don’t need to be brainwashed by their crazy.”
I smiled at him and rested my head on his shoulder.
“Are they talking about you again?”
I nodded.
He frowned. “I told your mother to change the subject, or to stop inviting the four horsemen to our house. It’s really not a big enough property to be the headquarters of the apocalypse. Don’t let them get to you, Maggie, all right?”
I wasn’t worried about them getting to me. It had been made clear to me a long time ago that those women were insane. What I worried about most was how their words affected Mama. Even when she tried to fight against their opinions, they still slipped through the cracks into her unconscious mind. Sometimes when Mama reacted to situations, she wouldn’t react like herself, instead saying things the four horsemen would say. Daddy always said to watch out for groups, that they sometimes turned you into a person you’d never otherwise become.
“I’m just saying, she’s never going to get better if you allow this to go on.” Loren started again. “There’s no way that she should be allowed—”
“Oh, Loren, shut it!” Mama shouted, stunning both Daddy and me. She even stumbled back a bit, shocked by her own sounds. “That’s enough. Yes, my daughter has her issues, but there’s no reason for you to sit here belittling her for an hour straight. I’d never do that to you about your child, and I’d expect the same kind of respect about mine. As far as if my daughter dates, and who my daughter dates, that’s up to her father and me to decide. Now, I respect your opinion—but that’s all it is. An opinion. You’re welcome to have it, but if you could keep it from me, that would be grand.”
“Wow,” Daddy whispered, a small smirk on his lips. “There she is,” he said. “There’s the woman I married.”
The subject changed, and Loren even muttered an apology.
“Joke?” Daddy asked.
Of course.
“Why did the run-on sentence think it was pregnant? Because its period was late.” He laughed, slapping his knee, and I rolled my eyes so hard.
God.
I loved my father.
It was past one in the morning when the horsemen rode off to their hotels. Brooks hadn’t texted me in a while, and I figured he was just having the time of his life at the show. A couple hours later, I woke up to my door slowly opening.
“Magnet?” Brooks whispered. “Sleeping?”
I sat up in my bed.
He smiled and entered my room, shutting the door behind him. He walked over to my desk and turned on my lamp, lighting up the room enough for a three a.m. wake-up call.
“Sorry I stopped texting. My phone died mid-show. Then when the show was supposed to be over, it went into t
his crazy encore! God! The energy of the room, Maggie. I swear, you could feel the walls vibrating from the energy alone. And the artists!” He kept going, waving his arms around with excitement, telling me everything about the band, the guitars they used, the keys, the drums, how Rudolph got hit in the face with a drum stick, how Oliver was the one who hit him in the face.
He was bursting from his seams with joy. The way music transformed him—the way music freed him from any of life’s restraints—I loved it.
I loved his joy.
“I got you this!” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pin from the show. “They were the band tonight: Jungle Treehouse. Gosh, Maggie, you would’ve loved it. I know you would’ve. I wish you could’ve been there. On the way back to your place, I charged my phone in the car and downloaded a few of their tracks onto my phone if you want to listen.”
I did.
We lay down on my bed with his earbuds in, and our hearts on our sleeves, listening to the music as the dim light glowed in the corner. He tilted his head in my direction, and I tilted mine is his direction, too. He clasped his fingers with mine and placed his hand over his chest. I felt his heartbeat racing through his chest as the music vibrated from my soul to his.
“I love you, Maggie May,” he whispered, looking into my eyes. “I mean, I keep staring at you, and I can’t help but think, ‘Wow. I’m really loving this girl right now.’ You know? Everything about you, I love. The easy days and the hard ones, too. Maybe I love you even more on the hard days. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say it yet, because I don’t know if you’re ready, but that’s okay. You take all the time you need, but I wanted to let you know, because when you love someone, I think you gotta scream it, otherwise the love in your chest becomes a bit heavy. It weighs you down, and you start wondering if the other person loves you, too. I’m not worried about that, though. I’m just sitting here, next to you, looking at the small freckles on your face that most people miss, thinkin’ about how much I love you in this moment.”
I snuggled closer to him, resting my head on his chest, as his arms wrapped around me. He closed his eyes and held me against him as his chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale, falling asleep after a few minutes. I pressed my lips against his neck, kissing him softly. I grazed my mouth against his, and he stirred a bit. I took his bottom lip between my teeth and nibbled it gently. His eyes awakened, sleepy and dazed, but he smiled. He always smiled when he looked my way.
I kissed him once and then met his stare. I kissed him again, and he pulled my body on top of him.
“Yeah?” he whispered.
I nodded.
I loved him.
I loved him, and he knew it. Even if I couldn’t say the words, he felt them in the way I touched him, the way I kissed him, the way I held him.
And wasn’t the best kind of love the kind one felt?
“I love you, too,” he said softly, his lips resting against mine. “I love you, too,” he said once more.
We started undressing one another, slowly, with ease, with care. That night we made love for the first time. With each touch, I fell more for his spirit. With each kiss, I tasted a part of his soul.
In my mind, I whispered back to him, time and time again. With every tear and every heartbeat, I spoke to him. So quiet, yet so loud.
I love you, too. I love you, too. I love you, too…
“Are you ready?” Brooks asked, walking into my room with his acoustic guitar on his back a few days later.
Don’t you have band practice?
He nodded. “Yeah, but not with The Crooks tonight. Tonight I’m starting a new band called BAM.”
Oh?
He bit his bottom lip and walked over to me, kissing my forehead. There was always a tenderness that he had whenever he touched me. I loved that feeling. “Yeah. It stands for Brooks and Maggie.”
What?
“It’s on your to-do list—play in a band. I figured why not start crossing things off your list right away? No reason to wait when we can do some of the things now. Now come on. I’ll teach you how to play Bettie.”
Bettie?
“Named after my grandma.”
Swoon.
He placed his guitar in my hands and as I went to strum, he stopped me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t play her like she’s just here to be used, Maggie. You need to introduce yourself. You need to learn about her, her parts, like her beautiful headstock, and her neck, which is home to the fretboard.” He went on explaining the different parts of the guitar for a good thirty minutes, and I listened selfishly. I loved how much he loved music. I loved how he wanted to introduce me to his world. When it came time, he had me practice fretting the strings, then later on, we went over the first position chords.
Whenever I messed up, he still cheered me on. “That’s good, Magnet! You’re literally one hundred times better than me when I started playing.”
After a few hours of playing, Daddy came and told Brooks he was never allowed back into our house after he caught us kissing. “I better get going anyway, seeing as how you’re yawning.”
As he stood, I grabbed his arm, making him pause. Rushing over to my books, I picked up one of my favorite books.
“The Kite Runner?” he questioned, taking the book from my hands. Khaled Hosseini’s novel was one of my favorite reads that Daddy had given me, and I wanted Brooks to know that part of me—the same way he wanted me to know music. The book was marked with small pink tabs, indicating my favorite sections. “It’s one of your favorites?”
Yes.
“Then I’ll read it twice,” he replied, kissing my temple. As he leaned in, he whispered against my ear. “I’ll sneak back into your room tonight after your dad’s asleep for a sleepover.”
“GO HOME, BROOKS!” Daddy hollered, making us both chuckle.
16
Brooks
“Um, Earth to Brooks. You still there, dude?” Rudolph asked, tapping me on the shoulder as I sat on Oliver’s stool in the garage. Rudolph kept waving his hand in front of the book I held with an apple in his grip. “Normally when we are on a break from rehearsing, you’re strumming a guitar, but now you’re like…”
“Reading!” Oliver said, walking out of Calvin’s house with two apples in his hand. He bit into both at the same time and chewed loudly. “I didn’t even know you knew how to read. Are you sure the book isn’t upside down?”
I shushed them, waving my hands at them as I flipped the page. My forearm was filled with small yellow tabs I was using to write notes back to Maggie. The twins kept trying to get my attention, but I was too far deep into the book.
Calvin came into the room, holding three apples in his hand and biting out of all three. Dramatic. My friends were dramatic. “Dude, don’t bother. He’s too much in love to focus on anything else.”
“Ugh. Not more of this love shit,” Oliver whined. “First we had to deal with Calvin wanting to write the name Stacey into every song we make, and now we have Brooks reading. READING!”
“For the first time in my life, I agree with my brother,” Rudolph said.
Oliver thanked him by giving him a wet willy.
“God! I take it back. You’re disgusting.”
I went back to ignoring them. It was interesting to see where Maggie put her tabs, and if any of mine overlapped them. I loved discovering the parts that made her laugh and cry, the parts that made her angry and happy. It was the best feeling.
“So, my dad was thinking of getting rid of his boat,” Calvin said. “He wants to sell it in a few weeks, and wanted to see if we want to have a farewell dudes’ trip and go fishing before we all head off to college in the fall.”
“He’s selling the boat?” I choked out, looking up from the book. “But, that’s like…our boat.” We’d spent so much of our youth sitting out on the lake. I knew we hadn’t done it in years, but the idea of Mr. Riley selling it made me pretty sad.
“Is this the same boat you two chicks are always remi
niscing about?” Rudolph asked.
“The same boat you wrote a song about?” Oliver jumped in.
“Yup. That’s the boat.”
“Well, hell. I’m in. If this boat had the power to make Brooks stop reading, then it must be something worth experiencing.” Oliver tossed his apple cores into the trash can, and Rudolph rushed over, picking up the cores with a paper towel and putting them into a paper bag.
I cocked an eyebrow at my weird friend, and he shrugged. “What? I’m helping my mom make a compost in our backyard. Apple cores are primetime for it. Anyway, if we can get organic fruit and I don’t have to physically harm a fish, then count me in.”
“The apple you ate isn’t organic, brother. Mom told me not to tell you—which is why I’m telling you.” Oliver smirked as Rudolph’s face turned red.
It was mere minutes before they started hollering again.
So I went back to reading my book.
A few weeks later, Mr. Riley took the guys, including my dad and my brother, Jamie, out on the boat for one last ride. It was the perfect day. We ate a crap ton of junk food—except Rudolph, who brought organic grapes and homemade organic banana bread he’d made with his mom. Surprisingly, when he offered it around, everyone chose chips instead.
“You’re missing out on the huge health benefits of flax seed and chia seed, but okay, by all means, eat your genetically modified corn chips,” Rudolph said.
Oliver took a handful of Fritos and shoved them into his mouth. “Don’t mind if I do.”
We sat out there for hours, talking about our future and how even with college approaching, we were still going to keep band practice as a priority in our lives. Just because we were going to school didn’t mean the dream had to die; it simply meant the dream had to shift a bit with the changes of life.
“Brooks, can you grab me a beer from under the deck?” Mr. Riley asked from across the boat.
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