Mama clapped and did a jig. “It is! I’ve been waiting for this day forever, and I mean, this is my only true chance to have a wedding for one of my kids.”
“Mom, come on,” Calvin whispered as my gut tightened. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m just saying, it’s not like your sisters are ever going to get married. Cheryl is on this feminist kick, and Maggie… All I’m saying is I’m never going to get to plan a wedding for those two.” Mama turned to Stacey, took her hand in hers, and squeezed it. “But at least I have a soon-to-be daughter to do all of this with. I feel as if I’m finally getting the daughter I was promised. Lord knows I already missed out on some major moments with Cheryl, and now she’s this wild child shooting around the world, so I doubt marriage will ever be on her mind. And do you know what the people in town call Maggie? ‘A horror story. A mother’s worst nightmare. She’s a reclusive eccentric.’ It’s hard not to believe them. She’s sick, and she’s not getting better. She’s probably better off never leaving home. It’s safer for her here.”
Ouch.
“Katie,” Daddy hissed from the kitchen. All of their heads shot up to see Daddy and me standing only a few feet away. They all frowned in unison when their stares met mine.
A shade of red washed over Mama’s cheeks and she grew flustered. “Maggie May, you know you’re supposed to knock when you’re in a room to announce that you’re here. Otherwise it’s eavesdropping, and that’s not nice.”
Nice? My mother knew all about being nice that afternoon.
I knocked on the countertop four times.
I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.
They kept staring and frowning. I kept standing, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
So I shifted my feet and left for my bedroom.
There was a robin dancing across my bedroom windowsill, reminding me of the freedom I’d been missing. I sat reading my to-do list over and over again, until I felt as if I knew it backward. I closed my book and placed it on the windowsill, Mama’s words playing over and over in my head.
I should leave. I’m going to leave.
I should’ve packed up a bag with a few of my things years before, and I should’ve left my house a long time ago. I should’ve gone on adventures, and found love, and gotten married in a big church where a choir sang hymns, and the priest made bad jokes. I should’ve been famous like my brother, or at least something more than what I was currently—nothing.
Standing from my chair, I left my room and grabbed a suitcase from the storage room. I dragged it into my bedroom, sat on the floor, and started to pack my clothes. On top of the clothes, I packed my favorite novels. On top of my novels, I packed more of my favorite novels. On top of my favorite novels, I placed my to-do list.
I’m going to leave.
I’m going to live.
My heart started racing, and I tried to allow my mind to stay clear. Don’t overthink it, just pack and go. The first step out will be the hardest, but the most rewarding. Mrs. Boone was right. I have to live now, or I never will. I have to live so Mama will be proud of me again. I have to live because of Brooks.
When the first teardrops hit the covers of The Hunger Games, I did my best to stop the waterworks. My mind was trying its best to convince me to stay, telling me of the horrors outside those walls, reminding me of the silence I’d been cursed with all those years ago.
Shh…
Shh…
I shook my head and kept packing.
Be better, be stronger, Maggie May.
When my door creaked open, I jumped, startled until I saw Daddy standing there. His eyes fell to the suitcase and he grimaced before walking over to my window that faced the street.
“Come here, Maggie,” he said.
I stood up and walked over to him. He allowed a few moments of silence to pass before speaking once more.
“Emily Dickinson didn’t like meeting new people, you know.” Of course he knew about Emily Dickinson’s life. “She only left her father’s home a few times, and after some time, she never left at all. She was always dressed in white, and she never spoke many words.”
I stared outside, seeing kids playing catch, riding bikes, living more life than I’d lived in all my years. I wiped away another tear so he wouldn’t see it.
He saw it and smiled. He always saw my tears and smiled—but it was a sad smile, a broken grin. “Just because she was different didn’t make her a freak. People called her a reclusive eccentric, too, you know. People called Einstein a mentally disabled fool.”
I smiled, but somehow he still saw the sadness living within me.
“Maggie May, you’re good enough just the way you are.”
What a typical thing for my father to say.
“I can tell you care. You care what others think of you, what your mother thinks of you, what I think of you. Which frankly, is a waste of time. Your mother and I may be older, but that doesn’t make us wiser in any way, shape, or form. We’re still evolving, too. It doesn’t matter what names others call you—reclusive, eccentric—none of those words matter. What matters are the names you call yourself when you are in your own company.”
He smiled at me once again. “If one day you choose to step outside and explore those things, then by all means, do it, but do not do it to make your mother happy, or me happy, because in turn I think you’ll lose your own happiness. Leave when you’re ready, not when you feel pressured. Okay?”
I nodded.
Okay, Dad.
He kissed my forehead. “The world keeps spinning because your heartbeats exist.” He turned to leave my room, but before he left, he cleared his throat, scratching at his hairy chin. “Oh, and you have a surprise in the dining room.”
I walked downstairs to the dining room and sitting at the table was an old woman, with two turkey sandwiches and two cups of tea. “So,” she said, holding one tea cup in her hand. “It turns out my memory isn’t the best that it could be.” She stood up from the table and walked over to me with a walker, limping a little. There were a few small bruises on her cheeks. But still, she looked her beautiful, overdressed self. With a tiny smile to her lips, she nudged me in the shoulder. “But it could always be worse,” she said playfully. “I could’ve been mute.”
Snickering, I nudged her back.
I had never hugged someone so tight in my life.
“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Brooks said, stepping into the dining room to see Mrs. Boone and me embracing.
“No, no. Any boy who’d sing to an old lady in the hospital is allowed to interrupt.”
Brooks gave her his crooked smile. “You heard me?”
“My goodness, the whole hospital heard you. After you left each night, the nurses went crazy over your voice and your facial hair, which I couldn’t understand for the life of me. Your voice was decent, but you look like a hairy monster. Shaving is okay, you know. I’ll buy you a razorblade if you’d like.”
I walked over to Brooks and rubbed his hairy chin. I liked it, his new look. His arms were toned and muscular, as if he’d been working out for years. He looked so grown up, so manly.
Mrs. Boone groaned. “Well, of course you like it, but your opinion is bias therefore it doesn’t matter. Anyway, here, Brooks.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a set of keys.
“What are these for?” he asked.
“It’s a thank you, for watching over me. Calvin told me you boys are here through the weekend, and he was saying how overly stressed you have been, so I figured you guys could go up to my cabin for a guys’ weekend, do whatever the heck it is that you young folk do nowadays.”
“Wow, that’s awesome. Thank you, Mrs. Boone.”
There was a knock at the front door and Daddy went to open it, revealing a woman with a kind smile. When Mrs. Boone saw her, she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, not you again.”
“Hi, I’m Katelynn,” the woman said. “I’m Mrs. Boone’s new caregiver. It’s just kind of hard to keep up with her. She’s
a mover and a shaker.”
“The only thing I’ve been trying to shake is you, stalker,” Mrs. Boone murmured.
I snickered. Good luck to you, Katelynn. She had her hands full with that old lady.
The two of them shuffled back over to Mrs. Boone’s house, and Brooks jingled the keys in his hands. “We don’t have to go up this weekend. I haven’t had nearly enough time with you, and I want to take in every moment.”
I shook my head. We had plenty of moments coming our way. The band deserved to get away from it all, to have some dude time. After some convincing, Brooks agreed to go up north. He promised to be back by Sunday afternoon to spend his last day with me.
Then he promised me more and more days in the future.
29
Brooks
Before the guys and I drove up to the cabin, we had one major stop to make. James’ Boat Shop. If we were going up to Mrs. Boone’s cabin on a lake, we needed a nice boat to take with us. So much had changed since Calvin and I went with his dad to sell their boat, so it was nice to see that James’ Boat Shop was exactly the same. Including a much, much older Wilson who still barked loudly on the porch.
“Quiet, Wilson!” James said, walking outside. “Damn dog hasn’t shut up in years.” The dog howled louder, as if telling its owner to fuck off. James smiled and scratched his gray hair. “I gotta tell you, it’s not every day Grammy award winning bands call me up to see if I can hook them up with a boat. It’s a pleasure meeting you all.” He laughed, shaking our hands.
Calvin shook James’ hand and said, “You actually met Brooks and myself about ten years ago. My dad came here to sell his boat, and your son showed us that huge yacht.”
“Jenna.” He nodded, pride in his eyes. “That would be her. You’re not here to rent her out, are you?”
I laughed. “No. I’m thinking we might need something a bit smaller. Something to just go out and fish on.”
“Well, I guess I won’t argue that too much. Hmm…we just got in this nice pontoon boat for renting. It’s great for fishing, has the couches and the lounge chairs for extra comfort. It really has a nice luxury feel to it, but doesn’t feel like too much. I think you’ll love it.”
“Anything…smaller?” I asked. “We kind of want that old-school fishing feeling.”
James nodded. “What kind of boat did you guys use to have?”
“A center console,” Calvin replied. “It wasn’t anything huge, but it worked out great.”
“Ah, then a center console it is if you boys ain’t afraid of being close.”
“Nah,” Oliver said, wrapping Rudolph’s head under his arm. “We like to snuggle.”
“God, I hate you!” Rudolph.
“Come on, little brother. What have I told you before? You don’t have to call me God. Your Majesty works just fine.”
I rolled my eyes at my bandmates who never changed. James told us to come inside to his office to work out the paperwork. As he spoke, Oliver ate all of the black licorice on James’ desk, making Rudolph groan.
“You know that shit is poison, right? Like, you do understand how bad it is for your body?”
Oliver tossed two more pieces into his mouth and shrugged. “This candy is my jam.”
“You’re disgusting,” his brother said.
“I gotta be honest, Oli. Rudolph is right this time. Nobody in their right mind likes black licorice,” I said, jumping into the conversation.
“Obviously this guy likes it since he’s giving it out to his customers!” Oliver bellowed while eating more.
James laughed, sliding a few pieces of paperwork my way for me to sign. “Guilty as charged. It’s my favorite. I eat about a pack a day, and my son hates me for it. He said it’s going to kill me someday, but I just remind him that my cigarettes will probably get me before the licorice does.” James winked, making us all snicker.
James hooked us up with the perfect-sized boat for our weekend and a trailer to hook up to our car. It wasn’t long before we hit the road for the long trip. The cabin was a good four-hour drive, but once you got there you didn’t regret a second of it.
“I can’t believe Mrs. Boone has this place up here and never uses it,” Calvin exclaimed as we pulled up to the log cabin. When Mrs. Boone said the cabin was on a lake, she left out the fact that the lake was the size of what some would consider an ocean. Looking out from her dock, you could hardly see the other side.
She also had a shed with a collection of six small canoes.
The cabin itself was huge and beyond amazing. There was a total of twelve rooms, including three bathrooms and five bedrooms. The living room was decked out with a giant moose head over the stone fireplace, and in the corner of the room, there was a huge jukebox that played all the good oldies music. For a nickel, a person could select five of fifty different songs.
Next to the jukebox was a record player, along with a bookshelf filled with records. It was the best corner in the house.
Each bedroom was decked out with a theme from around the world. One had all United Kingdom décor, while another was decorated as if you’d stepped into Thailand, and so on and so forth. Going from each room felt as if you were going around the world in two minutes.
It seemed Mrs. Boone had decorated the place based on all the adventures she and her late husband had experienced. Their whole life was encapsulated in the cabin walls, and it seemed like a beautiful life that they had lived.
“I can’t believe she’s just now telling us about it,” Rudolph exclaimed, climbing out of the car with a shit-ton of homemade white sunblock lotion on his nose. “Imagine the kind of parties we could’ve thrown up here!”
I snickered. “That’s probably why she never told us about it. We would’ve trashed this place.”
“Stacey would love this,” Calvin said, dragging his suitcase into the house.
“FOUL PLAY!” the twins shouted, pointing their fingers at my best friend. It was funny how in sync those two were, even though they were so different.
“No mention of the soon-to-be wife at home, or you take a shot,” Rudolph said sternly.
“That goes for everyone,” Oliver said, pointing his fingers at each person. “There will be no mention of any females by any names, or you take a shot. If you are caught talking to a girl, you will take two shots, and so help me if somehow you manage to sneak a girl onto the property, you have to drink Rudolph’s piss.”
“Trust me, it’s probably the cleanest piss in this house. It’d actually be an honor to drink my piss.”
I rolled my eyes. A dudes’ weekend. No chicks or drink piss, a solid rule to follow.
By midday, we were all hammered and talking about music; everything felt perfect. All that was left to do was to take the rental boat out on the water.
“Fuck that,” Oliver moaned, half-asleep on the couch. “I’m going to stay right here and do absolutely nothing until it’s time to eat pizza tonight.”
“Come on, you can do nothing on the boat. It’s a perfect day outside.”
“If your idea of a perfect day is clouds in the sky, be my guest, but I’m gonna sit my big butt on this sofa and not move until it’s time for pizza.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Where’s your brother?”
Three seconds later I saw Rudolph talking to a fake plant in the corner. Not only talking to a plant, but hitting on it. “So, you come here often?” he said, stroking the plastic leaves.
I glanced at my watch. “Dude, it’s one in the afternoon! How are you all this wasted?”
I lifted up the empty bottle of Fireball and realized the answer to my question. “Calvin! I need a partner in crime to come on the lake with me, and pull these two fools out there. Calvin?” I shouted, walking through the house.
He was nowhere to be found.
I searched each and every room twice. It wasn’t until I walked around the perimeter of the cabin that I found him, kneeling behind a bush, whispering. “Okay, babe. I gotta go, I hear someone coming. I love yo
u, too.”
“You little punk.” I laughed as I watched Calvin hang up his phone quickly and jump to a standing position.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said defensively.
“Oh, you know what I’m talking about. You were just talking to Stacey!”
“What? No way. It’s a dudes’ weekend. No chicks.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll let it slide and you can avoid taking shots if you come help me set up the boat for the afternoon and get the other two out on it.”
He grimaced. “I’m not really in the—”
“GUYS! CALVIN HAS BEEN TALKING TO—”
He ran at me, slamming his hand over my mouth. “Dude, okay, okay! I don’t know if you noticed, but the twins pour their shots in red solo cups.”
“Well, suit up, buddy! We are going fishing. Booze, dudes, and their rods.”
“That sounds like a really unfortunate title for the upcoming events. I’m concerned about the upcoming events.”
“Concerned?” I asked with a sly grin. “Or excited?”
Calvin started jumping up and down like a dramatic five-year-old. “So excited! So excited! I’ll get the booze and the dudes. You bring that long rod of yours.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”
He started for the kitchen and paused. “Just to be clear…the rod is your fishing rod, Brooks. Not your dick.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Call it what you wanna call it, brother. Either way, I’m bringing it. Bring your guitar, too. We can go over some chords and lyrics for the next album.” His face lit up. I’d never known someone who got so excited about work—well, other than me.
An hour later we took the boat out on the water and shut off the engine in the middle of the lake. It was peaceful, not another boat around. Then, we started drinking more. Nothing better than day drinking with your boys, on a boat in Wisconsin. It was a requirement to live in the state.
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