I nodded, and he snickered. Yeah, they knew.
“Cal and I are performing at the prom tonight. Did he tell you?”
He had. After spending years listening to them practice in my parents’ garage, it would’ve been amazing to see them live that night. A dream come true.
“Stacey’s going to record the performance and send it to you, you know, if you want to see it.”
I took his hand in mine and squeezed it twice. Yes.
He squeezed my hand back.
Yes. Yes.
“You want to dance with me, Maggie May?”
I turned his way and his cheeks reddened. My stare met his lips, almost wondering if I had imagined the words leaving his mouth. He nervously chewed his bottom lip as a small chuckle came out. “I mean…you don’t have to. Sorry. That was stupid. I just… With Lacey breaking up with me, and with Cheryl being…Cheryl, I thought it’d be nice to dance with someone I actually care about on the day of my prom.”
My inhales were heavy and my grip on my novel was slipping, as my now panicked stare met his nervous eyes.
I’d never danced. I didn’t know how.
I’d only read about dancing, and proms, and two people becoming one in each other’s arms.
“You don’t have to. Sorry.” He cleared his throat and looked back at the window. He muttered the word “stupid”, and I could tell he was internally beating himself up.
I placed my book against the windowsill and nodded.
He must’ve been watching me out of the corner of his eye, because his smile stretched without turning my way. “Yeah?” he asked.
Yeah.
I ran my fingers through my messy hair and goose bumps formed on my skin. My long white maxi dress didn’t look anything like Cheryl’s and nothing like Stacey’s. I wore no makeup and had few curves to my ghostly pale body, but Brooks didn’t seem to care. He always looked at me and made me feel like I was enough, no matter what.
He turned my way and smiled.
“Can I have your wrist?” he asked.
I held it out, and he opened the box with Cheryl’s corsage then slipped it on my arm.
“Just for now, you know, to make it seem more real.”
He pulled out his iPod from his pocket and flipped through his music before landing on the song of his choice. He handed one earbud to me, and he took the other, then he pressed play and placed the iPod in the front pocket of his slacks. I raised an eyebrow, unsure of the song playing.
“It’s something I wrote and played acoustic a while back. It’s just instrumentals. No one has heard the lyrics or anything, but I guess you can hear them now. Because, I wrote them for you.”
Swoon.
I loved it already.
He walked over to me and held his hands out. I stepped forward, and he wrapped his arms around my lower back, then my arms fell around his neck as he pulled me closer. His skin smelled like shaving cream and honey—my new favorite scent. If it was a dream, I swore I’d never wake. As we swayed, he pulled me closer. And as he pulled me closer, he began to sing.
She lies against my chest as her raindrops begin to fall
She feels so weak, floating aimlessly, slamming against the walls
Praying for a moment where she won’t begin to drown
Her heart’s been begging for an answer to the silent hurts her soul keeps bound.
An ache formed in my chest as I listened to his voice. His lips lingered over mine, his words falling against me. I felt the small breaths he exhaled into me and felt his shaky fingers against my spine. I felt his soul, my body pressed against his, my eyes staring at his singing lips. Brooks…
I’ll be your anchor
I’ll hold you still throughout the night
I’ll be your steadiness
during the dark and lonely tides
I’ll hold you close, I’ll be your light, I’ll promise you’ll be all right
I’ll be your anchor
And we’ll get through this fight
He drove me crazy. His hold, his touch, his voice, his words. Everything about his soul lit me on fire, and I was proud to burn beside him.
She tries each day to escape the flooding of her mind
She loses hope when darkness locks her in a bind
She slips away from me and I try to hold on tight
I promise it will all be over by daylight
I’ll be your anchor
I’ll hold you still throughout the night
I’ll be your steadiness
during the dark and lonely tides
I’ll hold you close, I’ll be your light, I’ll promise you’ll be all right
I’ll be your anchor
And we’ll get through this fight
I’ll hold you close, I’ll be your light, I’ll promise you’ll be all right
I’ll hold you close, I’ll be your light, baby, we’ll be all right
I’ll be your anchor
And we’ll get through this night
“Maggie,” he whispered against me, our lips not yet touching. Our bodies shook against one another and he laughed. “You’re shaking.”
So are you.
He smiled as if he’d read my mind, and I tried my best to read his.
“You’re my best friend, Magnet, but…” His lips grew closer, and I swore I felt them brush against my own. His fingers massaged into my back in circles, and I melted each time a circle was complete. “What if she was right? What if Lacey was onto something? What if there is something more than friendship between us?” His grip on my lower back got tighter, pulling me closer. Our lips brushed together again, and my stomach knotted.
“Step back, and I’ll step back, too,” he told me. I moved in closer, placing my hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. His stare fell to my lips, and his trembles became my own. “Tell me not to kiss you, Maggie. Step back, and I won’t kiss you.”
I stayed still.
Of course I stayed still.
I stayed and waited, and died, and waited.
When he found his place, when his lips glided against mine, my brain went dizzy and I came back to life.
His lips pressed against mine, gently at first, and everything inside me became a part of him. His fingers wrapped around my back and he pulled me in closer, pushing his lips harder against mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt it.
Happy.
Is it real?
Am I allowed this?
Am I allowed to be happy?
The last time I’d been kissed was by the same boy who wrapped his arms around me, who held me as if I were a promise of a dream he didn’t know he had.
This kiss was different than all those years ago. This time we didn’t count the seconds, but I did count the breaths he stole from me.
One…
Two…
Twenty-five…
This time the kiss felt so real, so perfect, so much like forever.
This time is forever.
“Maggie, have you seen—”
Brooks broke his hold on me and jumped backward, turning his back to the person at the door. The headphone in my ear was snatched out, making me stumble forward.
My eyes flew to Mama standing there, shocked. “Cheryl’s red lipstick,” she finished her sentence. An awkward silence rose, and Mama narrowed her eyes as Brooks straightened out his tie. “Brooks, I think Cheryl is waiting downstairs for photos.”
“Right, of course. Thanks, Mrs. Riley. Let me just get…” He walked over to me and took the corsage from my arm, then just like that, forever was over. “I’ll-uh-I’ll see you later, Maggie.” He hurried past Mama, keeping his head down from embarrassment.
Mama stayed there staring at me, and I could feel the disappointment in her stance. I hurried over to the dresser where Cheryl had left her lipstick, then handed it off to Mama.
She frowned. “She’s your sister, Maggie May, and she’s going to prom with Brooks. What do you think you’re doing?”
My head lowered.
I don’t know.
“I know Cheryl can be a handful at times, but…she’s your sister,” she repeated.
She left before I could write down any kind of response. She wouldn’t have read it, anyway. Mama was like Mrs. Boone in that way—she wanted actual words, not pieces of paper.
I headed over to my window and looked down at Brooks’ arms wrapped around Cheryl’s waist for the photos. He was giving the camera his best fake smile, and whenever he’d look up at my window, I’d step out of view.
It was a beautiful dream, he and I.
But that’s all it was.
A dream from which I was forced to wake.
“You bitch!” Cheryl screamed, barging into my bedroom as I changed into my pajama pants. My arms yanked my pants up and I stumbled backward, taken aback. Her mascara raced down her face with her tears and her red lipstick was smeared. The bottom of her dress looked as if it had been dragged through grass, and her eyes were wide. “I can’t believe you! I can’t fucking believe you told them!” she screamed.
I blinked once, confused. Told who what?
“Oh, don’t give me that innocent shit.” She laughed hysterically, and from her laughter, I could tell she was on something; her eyes were too wild to not be. “It’s actually ridiculous that anyone buys into the bullshit you push when really you’re a monster! I can’t believe you told Mom and Dad about what happened with Jordan yesterday!”
My lips parted, but no words came out, which pissed her off more. I hurried over to pick up a piece of paper and a pen, to write that I hadn’t told our parents, but she slapped it out of my hands.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why the hell do you open your mouth if you’re not going to say anything? And what’s the point of writing on paper? That’s the same as talking, Maggie! Just use your fucking voice, freak!”
My body started trembling as her rage escalated. She headed for the walls of my bedroom and started knocking over all my perfectly-lined-up books. She threw them around the room, infuriated, and began ripping pages out of them. “How do you like that? Huh? How do you like someone screwing with your life, the way you screwed with mine?”
I’d never seen her so mad, so pissed off. “Dad showed up to prom and cussed Jordan out. I was fucking mortified. But that’s not all—no. Before I was embarrassed in front of the whole student body, I tried to kiss Brooks, and he said he couldn’t. You know why?” She laughed wickedly, picked up one of my novels and started ripping pages out. I rushed at her to try to stop her, but she was stronger than me. “Because he said he had feelings for you. For you! Can you believe that? Because I couldn’t. Why would anyone ever want you? What are you going to do? Date him and never leave the house? Are you going to have romantic dinners in the living room? Travel the world on the Discovery Channel in the living room? You’re not worthy of Brooks. You’re not worthy of shit.”
“Cheryl!” Daddy shouted, rushing upstairs. “Go to your room.”
“Are you kidding me? She gets to ruin my life and I’m the one who gets in trouble?”
“Cheryl,” Daddy growled. He never lost his temper. “Go to your room. Now. You’re drunk and high, and you’re going to regret what you did to your sister in the morning.”
“She’s not my sister,” Cheryl snapped back at Daddy before dropping the remaining pages of the novel in her grip. “I wish you had stayed lost in those woods.” She pushed past Daddy and hissed, “And you’re not my father.”
I saw it happen: a part of my father’s heart shattering.
He bent down to start picking up my novels, and I placed my hand on his arm to stop him.
He felt my shaking, and I felt his.
His fingers brushed against his temple and he let out a harsh breath. “Are you all right?”
I nodded slowly.
He shook his head. “Your mom found the note crumpled in Cheryl’s room. We told her that, but she was too drunk to comprehend anything. Brooks was already trying to get her to come home, but she stormed off with Jordan before we could get her to listen, and I guess she beat us home.” He took off his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve driven home faster, then she couldn’t have taken her anger out on you, or destroyed your room like this.” His eyes watered. “Your books.”
I took his hand and squeezed it once. No. Not his fault.
“Let me help you clean up this mess.”
I squeezed his hand once more. No.
He gave me a broken smile and pulled me into a hug. He kissed my forehead and said, “The world keeps spinning because your heartbeats exist.”
I wanted to believe him, I did, but that night the world had crashed because of my heartbeats.
“Holy crap,” Brooks murmured, as he stood in my doorway later that night. His tie was hanging loosely around his shoulders and his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his slacks. I’d been sitting in the middle of my floor, surrounded by my novels and the torn pages. It was impossible to find the right pieces to go to the right stories.
They were all destroyed.
My eyes locked with Brooks’, and seeing the hurt in his eyes made me realize how bad everything actually looked. I was sitting in the middle of a puzzle of tales, and I hadn’t a clue how to connect the pieces.
He frowned. “Are you okay, Magnet?”
I shook my head.
“Can I come in?”
I nodded.
He walked around the books, tiptoeing to avoid stepping on any of their spines. “It’s not that bad.”
Liar.
When he gasped, my stare fell to his hands, where he held my journal. “Oh no…” he said softly.
My emotions took over.
My to-do list—it was completely destroyed. Dozens and dozens of adventures I hoped to one day experience were ruined, and I couldn’t help but to burst into tears. I knew it seemed dramatic, but those books, those characters—they were my friends, my safe haven, my protection.
That list was my promise of tomorrow.
And now I had nothing.
It only took seconds before Brooks’ arms were wrapped around me tight, and I fell against his chest, sobbing. “You’re gonna be okay, Maggie,” he whispered. It was a promise that felt empty. “You’re just tired. We’ll fix this in the morning. Everything’s okay.”
He led me to my bed and laid me down then began scrambling around my room, digging through the piles of books. When he found one that wasn’t damaged, he sat on the floor beside my bed and opened it to the first page. He bent his legs up and rested the book on his knee. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and finally picked the book back up.
“The Walk Home,” he said, reading the title. “Chapter One. Lauren Sue Lock wasn’t having an upbeat day…”
He read to me as I cried uncontrollably. He read to me as my tears slowed. He read to me as my racing heartbeat calmed. He read to me as my eyes grew heavy. He read to me as I fell asleep.
I dreamed of his voice reading to me some more.
When I woke the next morning, he was gone. As I climbed out of my bed, parts of me wondered if he had truly been there at all, but he’d left enough evidence to tell me of our night.
Every book was placed back around the perimeter of the bedroom, going from reds to purples. Every book was carefully taped back together. On my desk was my to-do list, resting inside my journal, damaged, yet somehow more whole than before.
Resting on top of the journal was a Post-it note that read, You’re okay today, Maggie May Riley.
I loved him.
I wasn’t certain when it had happened. I wasn’t certain if it was a group of moments collected over time or simply the heroic act he’d performed while I was sleeping, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter when, or why, or how it had happened. It didn’t matter how many moments gathered together to form the love. It didn’t matter if it was right or wrong.
Love didn’t come
with guidelines. It flowed into a person with only hope as its current. There wasn’t a list of rules to follow, making sure you cared for it correctly. It didn’t give you instructions to keep it pure. It simply showed up quietly, praying you wouldn’t let it slip away.
There was something to be said about timing. Getting the timing right in any situation was always important. Saying the right things at the right moments, making the right choices when choices had to be made. As I walked up to Maggie’s room, my chest was tight. As I’d spent the time taping all the pieces of her books together, I hadn’t been able to stop wondering what she’d think when she woke the next morning. I wanted to make her smile. If I could only do one thing for the rest of my life, it would be to make her smile, and it was time for her to know that, to know how I felt. How when we were together, she was always on the forefront of my mind. How when we were apart, that was where she remained.
“I wanted to return your book last night, but I really needed to see what happened to Lauren Sue Lock. Plus, I got you a new dry-erase board,” I said, standing in Maggie’s doorway. “You okay today, Mag—”
Before the words could leave my mouth, Maggie rushed over to me and pressed her lips against mine. I stumbled backward into the hallway, catching her in my arms. I didn’t question her kiss; I fell into it. I allowed her to kiss me as I kissed her more. When she pulled back a bit, I combed her long hair behind her ears.
She blushed, and I kissed her cheeks. She lowered her stare, and my fingers went under her chin to lift it up. I kissed her cheeks again. Then her forehead. Then her nose. Then every invisible freckle that trailed across her face.
Then, her lips. “Good afternoon, Maggie May.”
She smiled at me and kissed my cheeks. Then my forehead. Then my nose. Then every invisible freckle that trailed across my face.
The Silent Waters Page 9