I raised a tired eyebrow, waiting for her to explain what thing she was.
“I think I’m finally it.” Her smile grew bigger somehow, which made me smile, too. “I think I’m a reader.”
As the days and weeks passed by, Cheryl started staying home more nights. She’d spent most of her time reading books. When she came to visit my room, she wasn’t telling me all the stories of her wild adventures with different guys. She started talking about her wild dreams of adventure—traveling the world, seeing some of the sights she read about in the novels. She started building her own to-do list, too.
One night when she was talking about London, I brought up sex, and her mouth hung open with bewilderment. “Oh my gosh, Maggie!” she said, ripping the paper out of my hand tearing it to pieces. “One: those are the kinds of notes you never want Dad to find, and two: are you and Brooks having sex?”
My cheeks heated up and I shook my head.
“But you are doing some stuff, right? Oh my gosh! I’ve dreamed of these conversations with you! Okay.” She plopped down on my bed and crossed her legs. “Tell me everything you two have done.” Her eyes were wide with wonderment.
Kissing.
She nodded rapidly. “Uh-huh, uh-huh! Nice! What else?”
I wrote kissing again.
“What? But you two have been dating for like, weeks now. That’s a long time to just be kissing. Why haven’t you done anything else? Are you not ready? Because if you’re not ready, that’s fine. Brooks wouldn’t care.”
No. I’m ready.
“Then what’s the issue?”
I blushed. I don’t know how to do anything.
“You mean…anything? Like hand jobs? Or rim jobs? Or blow jobs? Or nip-lick jobs? Or pineapple-upside-down-cake jobs?” I cocked an eyebrow, and Cheryl nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, all of these seem like unpaid positions, but trust me, if you do them right, you’ll be paid in full.”
Ohmygod. I couldn’t handle her sometimes. But still, I missed her so much.
She jumped up from her seat and hurried out of the room. When she returned, she had candy, bananas, and other random fruits, including rings of pineapples. “Okay, we’ll start from the beginning.” She picked up a banana. “Hand jobs 101.”
“Hey, girls,” Brooks said, popping his head into my bedroom.
Cheryl threw her body over the items. “We’re doing nothing!” she shouted.
Good job, sis. Not suspicious at all.
Brooks arched an eyebrow. “Oookay. I was just supposed to tell you dinner is ready, and your dad told me I had to go home because I’m no longer welcome in the house where Maggie sleeps.”
I smirked. Sounds like Dad.
“Okay, well, you can leave now,” Cheryl replied, giving Brooks a tight smile.
He walked over to me and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When he left, Cheryl groaned and sat up with a banana smashed to her chest, leaving residue all over my blanket. “Sorry for the mess,” she said, wiping banana off her shirt. “But trust me, if you do it right, the messy stage is completely normal.”
On a cloudy Saturday night, I headed over to Maggie’s room to hang out. We spent a lot of time in her house, and I didn’t mind at all. As long as she was there, I was happy. I walked up to her bedroom, and she was already standing in her doorway with a stack of papers in her hands. She looked different than normal. Her hair was curled, and was she wearing…makeup? She was still beautiful, just a different kind of beautiful.
Guess what!
I smiled wide. “What?”
She dropped the first piece of paper to reveal the next one.
My parents got me a cell phone for my graduation gift.
“No way. Seriously?”
She nodded rapidly and dropped the next piece of paper.
Seriously.
I stepped farther into her bedroom and checked the hallway once to make sure Mr. Riley wasn’t looking before I closed the door. “Does this mean I can now send you inappropriate text messages?”
Her cheeks reddened. It didn’t take much to make Maggie blush, and I loved whenever it happened. She flipped through her pages and reached for the right response.
Don’t be a freak.
I cocked an eyebrow and moved in closer to her, wrapping my arms around her. “What about inappropriate pictures?”
She flipped through the pages again.
Don’t be a freakier freak.
I laughed. She bent forward, placing her hands against my chest. As her fingers moved lower toward my crotch, she slowly slid her tongue against my lips, parting them before kissing me hard. It was a new move for her and I groaned, loving it more than she knew. “Maggie, you can’t tell me to not be a freak and then do something like that.”
She stepped backward and bit her bottom lip, dropping another piece of paper.
Okay, then be a freak.
I narrowed my eyes, feeling a small twitch in my jeans as I stared at her. Her long hair was wavy and still a little damp from her shower. It lay over her shoulders, brushing against the spaghetti strap dress that skimmed across her toes. She looked so simple in the most beautiful way. Her cheeks were still red, but her eyes were determined.
“You want…?”
Yes.
“What about your parents?”
She dropped another piece of paper, and I couldn’t help but smirk. It was as if she knew everything I’d ask.
At my grandparents’ until tomorrow.
“And Calvin?”
With Stacey.
“And Cheryl?”
She smirked and rolled her eyes, dropping her third to last piece of paper.
Who knows?
Brooks?
“Yes?” The way she swayed back and forth was killing me. She was so fucking beautiful, and I swore she had no damn clue.
She held up the last piece of paper in her grip.
Come undress me now.
I stepped closer to her, running my fingers through her hair. “Are you sure?” I asked. She nodded. My mouth moved to her neck and I licked it slowly, sucking it gently. My mouth traveled down her collarbone, kissing her every step of the way. When I came to her strap, I slid it down her arm, lightly biting into her skin. A slight gasp left her, and the sound alone made me want her even more.
“We’ll go slow. We don’t need to rush,” I said, knowing it was her first time. I moved her other strap down her shoulder and her loose dress slid to the floor. I stepped back, studying her body. Her white lacey bra didn’t match her pink cotton underwear, and somehow it was perfect. Her legs looked lean and long as her arms rested at her sides. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.
She stepped toward me, took my shirt from the bottom, and slid it over my head, tossing it on top of her dress. As she unbuckled my belt, I stepped out of my shoes and socks. She unzipped my jeans and they fell to the floor.
Maggie studied my body, her eyes moving up and down as I studied hers. Her fingers ran along my chest, moving lower and lower, to the edge of my boxers. My eyes closed as her thumb brushed against my hardness, and she slowly started stroking me through my boxers.
“Mag…” I groaned, feeling her start to stroke harder. Her free hand wrapped around the edge of my boxers, and as she started pulling them down, I opened my eyes. She was lowering herself to get on her knees. Her hands were shaking against me, and my hand flew under her forearm. “Maggie, what are you doing?”
She looked at me, confused.
“I mean…” I snickered. “I know what you’re doing, but you don’t have to…” I pulled her up to a standing position. My fingers combed through her hair. “I know you haven’t done anything before.”
Embarrassment filled her eyes and as she began to turn away from me, I rotated her back, taking her hands in mine. “Who told you to do that? Cheryl?”
She squeezed my hands twice.
I hated that. I hated that she felt she had to do certain things because of wha
t others said. “Five minutes?” I asked, taking a few steps back from her.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped backward. When her eyes reappeared, she smiled and unhooked her bra, dropping it to the floor. I slid my boxers off, tossing them to the left. Her panties glided down her beautiful thighs and she stepped out of them.
Her hand flew up and she nodded. Five minutes.
We stood there, staring at one another. Five minutes to erase any fears. Five minutes to remember who we were. Five minutes to find our own way, our own story.
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.
“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 m
e 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 this 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.”
The Silent Waters Page 11