Recovering Maggie

by KT Morrison

Cole said, “Confessionals.”

  She said, “Liars will be asked to leave the warmth of the house and our company, out into the cold world of lying liars.”

  Max grunted. “That leaves you pretty safe.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He picked a pepperoni off a slice and ate it. “Cole and I don’t want to be alone in here with each other. You can lie all you want and we won’t ask you to leave.”

  She watched him for a moment, with his face turned down to the food he wouldn’t eat. She said, “I am a liar. But I don’t want to be. I care too much about both of you to lie, even when I’m lying sometimes, sometimes even to myself—doing it just to preserve someone’s feelings.”

  Max said, “Oh, where’s this going?” making his hurt face.

  She said, “What …?”

  “I don’t like where this is going.”

  She stared at him until he finally raised his eyes to hers and then she held his gaze. “I really love you, Max.”

  It got his attention. He said, “I … I love you, too.”

  “Let’s tell each other the truth,” she said.

  Cole said, “I’m ready,” and he put his hand on her knee. She covered his hand with hers.

  Max said, “I’m ready too. I can tell the truth.”

  Back in the living room that looked out over the mountains if there weren’t sheets of driving snow, Max moved to take a spot on the couch and she stopped him.

  “Not on the couch, Max.”

  “No?” he said, as he looked to Cole paused before the leather chair angled toward the fire.

  She said, “No furniture.”

  Cole said, “No furniture? What?—sit on the floor?”

  “No shields, nothing to sink into, hide, no pillows to cover yourself.”

  “Right,” he laughed. “Why would we want to be comfortable?”

  She got her face serious for a moment. “We’re going to be uncomfortable.” Both her boys grew solemn.

  To brighten them now, she said, “In fact,” and grabbing the hem of her sweater, she pulled it up over her head and tossed it to the spot where Max had intended to sit. With a smile, she presented herself to them, arms bare, in a tank top, only that and her leggings, feet still bare as well.

  Cole was the first to smile, saying slyly, “If we’re going to bare ourselves, you want to get naked?”

  “No,” she laughed.

  Max took off his own sweater, now just in his khakis and a button-down. He said, “So, what’s your game?”

  From inside the sweatshirt he was removing, Cole said, “Truth or Dare? No dares?”

  “Not like that,” she said, walking then to the center of a huge Native American rug where the pale wintry light fell from the towering windows but where they could all still feel the heat from the fire. She watched him come to her, Cole moving to stand right next to her, Max keeping his distance. Flat gray light from the window behind her fell on his face, showing dark circles of worry under his eyes.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  “Nervous,” he said.

  She went to him, hands extended, took his, felt them warm but tense, led him walking backward till the three of them were together at the rug’s center.

  “No dare,” she said. Looking in his eyes. “Only truths.” Then stepping back and addressing them both: “Ask or offer.”

  “What’s that?” Cole said.

  “When it’s your turn, you can ask another, or offer your own truth. Before you’re asked.”

  They both watched her apprehensively as she sat herself down, stretched her legs out ahead of her, held together, hands behind her on the rug. Cole and Max looked at one another, Cole nodding, then they both sat facing her, legs crossed.

  Now she said, “It’s not a game. If you want to get competitive, you can always strive to be more honest, more forthcoming, than the rest of us.”

  Cole still nodded, eyes narrowed, assessing what she told him. He looked to Max, then back to her. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, then said, “What if this gets too real?”

  Max’s hands clutched together, one thumbnail scratching at the center of the other palm. His eyes however watched her resolutely.

  “It could,” she admitted. “We could start off easy.”

  Cole said, “What’s easy?”

  Max cleared his throat, and looking at her he said, “Uh … when you went back to Rhode Island to stay, go and pick … you know… your dress,” he swallowed visibly, eyes lowering for a heartbeat, then raising to meet hers again. “You didn’t really have sex with that guy on the train, did you?”

  She laughed loud, then covered her mouth.

  Cole’s face went serious again. “What? …” he said, frowning.

  To Max, she said, “No. Not even close.”

  Cole said, “Who’s the guy on the train?”

  “I teased Max. He just told me I could do whatever I wanted … be bad,” she said now, frowning a little, “and I… tricked him. Took a picture of this guy, sent it to Max, told him … Oh, boy, told him all these dirty things we did.”

  Cole laughed, seeing the humor in it, but Max’s face showed hurt and she didn’t want that. She began to offer her own truth. “But the embarrassing thing is …” She stopped as a sudden surge of shame flushed her cheeks.

  “What?” Max asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. Then considering her own game she continued, “I may have … you know … thought about him … you know …” She sheepishly rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  Cole said, “Get out of here …”

  She shrugged, forced a smile that squeezed out awkwardly. With both of them staring at her she shivered, buried her face in her palms and burst out in nervous giggling.

  Cole’s hand held her wrist and uncovered her face. He smiled at her, brows pinched, said, “You are so dirty.”

  She yanked her wrist back, slapped at his arm playfully, but missed as he laughed and sat upright. To Max, he said, “Who is this guy? You saw his picture? Do we have to worry?”

  Max smiled a little, said, “He was pretty hot.”

  Maggie agreed, laughing, “So fucking hot.”

  “I hate this guy,” Cole said, smirking at her, but she saw the concern in his eyes.

  She said, “I don’t even know who he is. He didn’t get on the same train. I saw him on the platform. Max and I had just been … intimate, and he left me all charged up.”

  Cole looked to Max and said, “Dude,” acting like Max had let her down.

  She said, “No, it was good. Time constraint. We were late—sex made us late, and I almost missed the bus.”

  Max smiled more, eyes narrowing as he recalled the day. Then joining in the fun he frowned at a sudden realization and teased her: “Wait, did you actually masturbate on the train?”

  She winced and nodded.

  Cole chastised her: “Maggie …”

  “Wait, hey,” she corrected them. “I didn’t touch myself. I didn’t have to.”

  Max asked: “You came?”

  She nodded, giggled again, wriggled her feet, then with their eyes on her again she covered her face. She heard Cole sigh admiringly, “I wish I could do that.”

  Max pointed to Maggie, and she placed a palm on her chest and said, “Me?” He nodded.

  “Okay,” she said, wagging her feet back and forth. “Um,” she smiled, thinking, then with held back laughter, she turned to Cole and after clearing her throat, she asked him: “Is my mother really coming on to you?”

  Max couldn’t help laughing. Then Cole answered, “Yes.”

  Max said, “She is?”

  Cole smiled and nodded, practically beaming.

  Maggie had a follow-up: “Do you want to have sex with my mother?”

  Cole laughed now, said, “Maggie, your mom is so fucking hot.”

  And while Cole laughed and Maggie shook her head in admonishment, Max said, “Wait,” and when they both looked to him, he said to Cole, “Did you
… already have sex with her mother?”

  Both Maggie and Cole laughed now, and it rushed sharp crystals of pleasure through his heart to see them happy like that. Cole couldn’t answer but he sliced both hands back and forth like an umpire declaring a runner safe, alleviating Maggie’s potential concern while he found the breath through his laughter to answer. Max laughed so hard as well the vision of them narrowed and warbled.

  Finally, Cole managed to say, “No, no, no way …” He cleared his throat and straightened. When they all collected themselves, he continued, “But that weekend I went to your house, I thought it could happen.”

  Maggie said, “What about my father?”

  Cole said, “I didn’t do it.”

  She said, “You would have?”

  Cole rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I hate this fucking truth game.”

  Max said, “He might have,” trying to ameliorate for his friend.

  Maggie said, “Let him speak,” her eyes still on Cole.

  “I might have,” Cole said.

  “Wow,” Maggie said.

  Cole got serious and said, “The secret to a truth game—amongst friends—is not judging the answers given.”

  She looked at him blankly, slowly a nodding began, and she held out a hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

  Cole took her hand and squeezed it.

  Maggie said, “I’m a little … I’m a little sensitive with my mother right now.”

  Cole said, “Nothing should be off limits, Maggie, and, really, you asked me.”

  “Ah shit,” she sighed, “I know. I know I did.”

  Max said, “What’s up with your mother?”

  She held Cole’s hand in both hers now, said, “I already told Cole—”

  “Told him what?” Max said.

  Looking to him, she said, “I talked to Ken. He took or erased the security footage of us.”

  Cole nodded as she spoke. Max assumed she’d related this story to him on the drive up north. It wasn’t true though, and now his stomach clenched further with the dread that came with telling the truth.

  Maggie said, “But I think my mother saw the footage. I’m almost sure of it.”

  “How?” Cole asked.

  “A … feeling. Knowing her so long. The things she’s saying are like … like she knows …”

  Cole said, “What is she saying?”

  Maggie’s eyes went to Max’s, and he felt suddenly caught, pulled in by them somehow, like he was meant to, Maggie purposely drawing him in to her with comfort but sadness as well. The strength left him, leaking out his butt and into the assuredly expensive rug. But he braced himself.

  He said, “Hey, Cole?—maybe I could go ahead of you, take the next turn …”

  Cole said, “Max, I’d pay you to take my turn. Just don’t ask me anything.”

  “No ask—I have an offer,” he said, and they both looked to him. His gaze went up to avoid them and he saw perched on the end cut of a log—peering down at them with a black quizzical eye, talons curled over honey-stained wood—the black ruffled shape of a gleaming taxidermist raven. “Wow,” he said, and they glanced up to follow where he looked.

  “What?” Maggie said.

  “Secret Society,” Cole said.

  “Secret Society,” Max agreed, and began: “The weekend I went home to see my parents, I didn’t actually go home.”

  “I know you didn’t,” Maggie said, compassionate face watching him expectantly.

  Max said, “I know you know.” Max’s parents asking him when he returned from Connor’s why Maggie thought he came home that previous weekend.

  Cole looked back-and-forth between them, puzzled. “Where did you go?”

  Maggie said, “Did you stay in Vermont? On campus?” Cole frowning at this, being the one to drive him all the way to Albany before 5 A.M.

  “I went to San Diego. To see Ken.”

  “San Diego?” she said, her voice a disbelieving gasp.

  Max nodded.

  “Why?”

  “To get … to get the security footage from him.”

  Maggie and Cole’s faces scrunched in incomprehension; they shook their heads, mouths working to form the phrase What the fuck are you talking about, Max?

  “I thought if I could get a copy … if I could … if …” Then unable to address Maggie, he said to Cole, “if I could get her to see what it looked like … she wouldn’t like it, she—”

  Cole said, “Why wouldn’t she like it?”

  “Because she knew her brother saw it, saw what it looked like. She can be so shy … I thought it would shake her out of it.”

  Maggie said, “Out of what?”

  Cole said, “That’s stupid. This little horn dog would probably like it,” he laughed, taking her hand and swinging it between them, his smile fading seeing Maggie’s seriousness.

  She repeated: “Out of what?”

  Looking her in the eye, he said, “Quitting with Cole.”

  They all looked at one another for a moment, and Maggie sighed, “Really?” A whine laced through her tone, tension gripping her at the thought of quitting Cole.

  And that was his proof. Had he asked her to, she might have quit Cole, but only for a time until the resentment poisoned her opinion of Max. As convoluted as his plan was, his motivation was sound.

  Cole, still squeezing Maggie’s hand, said, “You wanted us to quit?”

  He didn’t answer, but the reddening heat felt up his cheeks and neck should have done it for him.

  “Ken—he didn’t give it to you?” Maggie’s face was held so tensely her lower lip trembled.

  “Maggie, he didn’t have it.”

  “He just got rid of them?”

  “Did he tell you he did?”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked him if he could tell you, let you know he saw us.”

  “Why?” she whined.

  “Same reason.”

  “But what did you tell him? Why did he agree?”

  “I told him you were in trouble.”

  She made like she would stand, her expression of puzzlement grinding into a form of anger. “You lied?—or you really think I’m in trouble?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Max?” she said again, trying to capture his focus, and when he faltered again, not knowing what to say, she did rise to stand, turned her back and faced the mountains. Cole glanced at Max, then stood and joined her, putting his arm around her back. Max drew up his knees, arms hugging them and watched. Beyond the window, the daylight seeped from the sky and mountains, and between the capricious sheets of snow, the landscape seemed stark and colorless now. It would be dark soon.

  He continued, speaking to their backs: “I hoped it was that you were in trouble. Hoped you hadn’t fallen out of love with me.”

  When she turned, she was forlorn. “That’s not right, Max. I told you every day I love you. I said it because I mean it. That’s my truth. I absolutely know I do.” She held a fist over her heart and there was a flash of reflected light off a teardrop that dripped from her jaw. “That’s a one-hundred percent truth.”

  Now he covered his own face with his hands. Through them, he said, “I felt pushed away. Less than …”

  “Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

  Hands away, wiping wet on his pants, he said, “It wouldn’t change your mind, your action … It wouldn’t stop you sleeping with Cole.”

  She didn’t disagree, standing there silently watching him, Cole at her side, running his hand over her back.

  “Would you please come back and sit down?” he pleaded.

  She stood a moment longer, nodding the whole time, knowing she should, knowing she would. When she returned, getting to her knees in front of him, he sighed with relief.

  Then she came to him, walking on her knees, face twisting like she might cry, and she put her arms around his neck and squeezed him.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Max.”r />
  His hands came up her sides, her narrow rib cage under his fingers, and he breathed her in. “There’s more,” he whispered.

  She sat on her heels and nervously waited, Cole watching, kneeling behind her.

  “Maggie, Ken didn’t erase the security cameras. He didn’t even know they existed.”

  She slumped, cocking her head, her face bending upward in sad incomprehension. “What?”

  “I think … I think he just told you that because I asked him to.”

  “Oh no, I knew it,” she sighed, eyes wide and staring at the colorful section of rug between them. When their eyes met again, she said, “Ken said… said you’re a liar. Good, but a liar. Told me to tell you to tell me the truth.”

  “That was it. That’s what he wanted me to say.”

  Rolling off her heels, she sat on her rump again, running her hands over her hair, lost in thought. “She knows. My mother knows. She’s the one who erased it.”

  Cole said, “Why would she do that?”

  Eyes lost in the fire behind Max, she said, “To control me. Hid it from my father because he would kill me, take me out of school, away from both of you. But she … she’s using it to get what she wants.”

  “That’s crazy,” Cole said, disbelievingly.

  Max asked, “What does she want?”

  “Get out of art. Go to law school.”

  “No way,” Cole said, shaking his head. “There’s no way.”

  Maggie said, “But I want to go to law school.” Then more speculatively, “I want to go to law school, don’t I? That’s me, that’s not her …”

  Seeing her wild and lost eyes as she clapped her hand over her forehead, bewildered between unreality and authenticity, slumping with overloaded burden, it occurred to him that all of them, not just Carol, sought to control Maggie from outside the perimeter of her knowledge, make her a marionette ignorant of its strings. What he wanted to do right now is genuflect, fall before her and declare unending apology and recompense, but when she emerged from her fugue she looked at him, slack-jawed and aching.

  “What? …” he asked her, worried over her expression.

  “Max, I’m so sorry … Maxy, she … my mother … they…” Her eyes brimmed with tears, one spilling over, following a leftover track and dripping from her jaw. “They canceled the wedding.”