Slow Dance in Purgatory

by Amy Harmon

  “No… I guess not.” Maggie approached him then, and moving quickly, before she lost her courage, she slipped her arms around his lean torso. She hugged him tightly, resting her cheek briefly on his chest.

  “Thank you, Johnny. I can’t thank you enough,” she said softly.

  He was frozen for several seconds, his hands paused in mid-air, the wrench dangling from the fingers of his left hand. Then, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her for several heartbeats. The silence around them became thick and heady, and Maggie thought she might drown in the pleasure of it. Then Johnny released her and took a step back. With a dizzying flash he was back under the car.

  “Can I help you?” Maggie asked after a minute. “Maybe hand you parts or something?”

  “Sure. Clutch – “Johnny’s hand shot out from under the car, palm up, waiting.

  “Which is which, again?” Maggie wrinkled her nose in confusion as she stared at the collection of parts.

  Johnny laughed from under the car. “How about you just keep me company? Just talk to me. I can handle the transmission all by myself.”

  “Sounds like a plan – so what should we talk about?” Maggie situated herself, legs criss-cross, on the floor next to the car where she could study his face while he worked.

  “What’s ‘Team Edward?’”

  Maggie’s laughter pealed out in surprise.

  “Long, long story. No real team involved. Edward is just a hot guy.”

  The silence in the room was deafening. Maggie squirmed, wondering what she had said. After a moment, Johnny spoke, but his voice was decidedly frosty.

  “And hot means…cool, right?”

  “Hot means….um, very appealing,” Maggie said judiciously.

  Johnny got a strange expression on his face and didn’t respond – continuing to work with a deep furrow between his blue eyes. He worked faster and faster, his hands flying from one thing to the next. Maggie searched her brain for a new topic of conversation when he abruptly spoke up again.

  “So, this Edward cat. If he’s so appealing why haven’t you mentioned him before? Is he from your old school?”

  Maggie shrieked with laughter and, crawling under the big car, stared down into Johnny’s scowling face.

  “Edward is a character from a very popular book series, silly. He’s a mythical creature – a vampire!”

  “You mean like Dracula?” Johnny looked completely dumbfounded, and his hands stilled. “And you think he’s…hot?”

  “Yes, along with 90% of all females from ages 13 to 90. Read the book, smarty pants. I can pretty much guarantee it’s in the library upstairs. I think you’ve spent too much time floating lately.”

  “Huh,” Johnny grunted. “The world has changed more than I thought in the last fifty years.”

  “You sound like a grumpy old man,” Maggie teased, still perched over him, laughter still curling the corners of her pink mouth. Her hair swung down around him in a fragrant curtain, cocooning them in a private world. He stared up at her for a moment, struck by the sheer miracle of her. Here she was beside him, laughing at him, looking at him. He’d been alone so long. He was also more than a little jealous of this Edward guy. Impetuously, he reached through the silky length of her hair and grabbed the back of her head and drew her to him, capturing her mouth with his.

  Maggie had never been kissed like that.

  When her lips touched his, it was like kissing an open flame – without the pain. His lips were smooth and insistent, and a bolt of electricity shot from her lips to the soles of her feet and hummed just below the surface of her skin like a live current. Light shimmered and spread around them, until Maggie felt like she was floating in a golden haze where nothing existed but Johnny, his lips, his scent, his hair beneath her seeking fingertips. It was like her dream…

  She broke away from Johnny with a gasp, her blue eyes wide, searching his from only inches away. His expression was as stunned as hers. The dream had ended with her falling through darkness and losing herself in the process. The memory was like an infusion of ice water in her veins, and in a clumsy retreat, Maggie scooted out from under the old car to reclaim the safety of her previous spot.

  Her pulse took longer to recover as she watched Johnny, all corded muscles and golden skin, resume his work without acknowledging what had just transpired between them. When he rolled out from under the car to retrieve a new tool, Maggie reached up to touch her still tingling lips, jerking when an arc of static zinged from her mouth to her finger tips.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in relative normalcy, with Maggie and Johnny trading questions and answers, tidbits and tit for tat. The conversation was all lightness and ease, but an undercurrent of tension buzzed between them, and both avoided close proximity for a couple of hours.

  They covered everything from favorite colors to favorite films, to least favorite foods and most embarrassing moments. Johnny seemed fascinated by the smallest details, and Maggie wondered if it was truly her he was fascinated by, or simply the intimacy of human contact so long denied him. Regardless, she relished his rapt attention and returned it tenfold. The late afternoon sun was beginning to descend when Johnny pronounced Belle, ‘good as new.” He asked Maggie to start her up, and when she offered to let him do the honors, he shook his head.

  “I’m afraid I’ll throw a spark.”

  Maggie didn’t question him. She knew he threw sparks. She climbed in and turned the key, pumping the pedal as she did. Belle roared to life and sat purring like a well-loved housecat. Maggie threw Johnny a delighted grin and, jumping out of the car, did a little happy dance around the shop room. Johnny tried not to notice how good she looked doing it. Girls in his day wore skirts most of the time. He hadn’t known what he was missing. He suspected, though, that most girls, both then and now, didn’t look like Maggie in a pair of blue jeans. He wisely turned away and began returning the borrowed tools to their proper shelves and trays.

  “So….you used to go to drive-in movies, right?” Maggie said from behind him, easing up next to him, but still keeping a wide berth.

  “Yeah. We called ‘em passion pits.” Johnny groaned inwardly at the awkward silence that ensued.

  Maggie attempted a laugh and cleared her throat instead. “Well, I’ve never been to one. So I was thinking…maybe we could make our own. I’ll be able to drive the car back tonight, right? So I don’t have to leave any time soon. The library has a big projector, we can use the back wall as our screen, and I have the perfect movie. We can watch it sitting in the Caddy. It’ll be fun. Whaddayasay?”

  Johnny couldn’t think of a sweeter agony than sitting next to Maggie for a couple of hours in the front seat of Irene Honeycutt’s car. He knew he was a fool. And worse, he knew none of this was good for Maggie. But so much had been taken from him, and he’d been stranded in Purgatory for so long. He couldn’t deny himself tonight. He wanted it too badly: the conversation, the laughter, the girl. Whatever she gave him -- time, attention, affection -- he would take it. He would worry about the consequences later. Later was something he had plenty of.

  ***

  Shadrach Jasper was bored. He kicked at the rocks, sending one flipping up and nailing himself in the head.

  “Ow!” He yelped loudly, and cursed the big feet that made him awkward and ungainly. One of these days he would grow into his feet, just like his grandpa promised. Then maybe Maggie would like him the way he liked her. Of course, by then she would have graduated, and she would probably be off to some big dance school, or dancing in New York on Broadway or some such B.S.

  Shadrach knew he was in a bad mood, but he had had the worst week ever, and he really wanted to spend the day with Maggie. He was crazy about Maggie. Sure, she was three years older than him, but someday that wouldn’t matter.

  Maggie was beautiful and kind and funny, and she didn’t make him feel like a loser. And she was nothing like his mom. She wouldn’t drink and get mean, or run off with some guy for months on end, or sell
herself for drugs or the money to buy them. And Maggie didn’t embarrass him like his mom did.

  He couldn’t believe that the first time the guys on the football team had paid him any attention it was because of her. He had been trying to impress those guys since the school year started. Now they were all laughing at him. He hadn’t made the football team…but he would when he grew, and then those guys would beg to hang out with him, he was sure of it. He knew lots of stories about guys who didn’t make their school football team until their sophomore or junior year, and then went on to play in the pros. His time would come. And if football didn’t work out, there was always basketball.

  Shad nodded his head and clapped his hands, feeling much better after his little personal pep talk. Maybe he should get his bike and ride over to the school, maybe practice a little bit, sharpen his skills. The doors would be unlocked if there was dance practice going on. Then he could work on his basketball and ride home with Maggie. Maybe they wouldn’t have to wait until Sunday night to hang out.

  His mind made up, Shad began loping down the street as fast as he could go, tripping only once and congratulating himself on his improving speed.

  11

  “KISS OF FIRE”

  Georgia Gibbs - 1952

  “When did they make this flick?” Johnny sat transfixed by the film playing out in life size beyond the front windshield of the Cadillac. The flickering lights reflected off the hard metal surfaces around the room, creating a constantly changing multi-colored glow that lit up Maggie’s smooth face with blue light. His own face seemed to repel it as if he were watching behind darkened glass.

  “I’m not sure exactly. It’s pretty old. Maybe sometime in the 1980’s,” Maggie mused, munching a handful of popcorn.

  “Gee – that is old,” Johnny quipped, his voice heavy with irony.

  “You made a joke, old man! Good job!” Maggie teased and offered the bag of popcorn to him. He shook his head.

  “I’ll have to show you sometime what happens to food when I attempt to eat it.”

  Maggie stopped mid-crunch and offered him the bag again. “Show me now!”

  Johnny picked a piece of popcorn from the warm greasy bag, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed a few times, and then blowing softly, sent a stream of silvery ash dancing through the air in a swirling circle. The ash was so light it floated like dust particles and slowly dissipated beyond sight.

  “You incinerated it!” Maggie squeaked. “Do it again!”

  He acquiesced, and Maggie watched, awestruck. “It looks like pixie dust!”

  Johnny laughed, and Maggie joined in. He blew another silvery stream into the air, and they watched it swirl and vanish as the light from the movie changed, obscuring its departure.

  “Maybe it is pixie dust….” Johnny mused. He turned his blue gaze on Maggie, his words barely a murmur. Maggie eyes roved over his face, anxious that he would reveal something crucial and she would fail to hear.

  “If it is pixie dust, I guess that makes me Peter Pan – the boy who never grows up.”

  Maggie and Johnny stared at each other, struck silent by the utter hopelessness of his plight. A modern day Peter Pan stuck in Never Never land. Maggie gently set the popcorn down and slid across the leather bench seat until she sat in the crook of Johnny’s arm. Holding his gaze she said tenderly,

  “Well I, for one, am just glad you aren’t Tinker Bell. Now hold my hand, Peter. I want the authentic drive-in experience.”

  Johnny gasped, laughing in amazement at her ability to take a proverbial blow and keep on coming. He had the sudden urge to bury his head in her lap and cry like a lost child. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the soft place where her neck met her shoulder. He held her, and let her hold him, until her hair tickled his nose and her scent engulfed him completely. He pressed his lips to her smooth skin, and she shivered, encouraging him to run his lips up the long line of her neck to the velvety lobe of her ear. He pulled back and looked at her upturned face. Her eyes were closed, and her thick black lashes lay against her pearly skin. She was so lovely it made him ache with a yearning so fierce he audibly moaned.

  Maggie lifted her chin ever so slightly, seeking his mouth, and he sank into her, pushing the pain away, letting his lips move over hers in tender desperation. It was her turn to moan, and she climbed into his lap, her hands running down his arms and back up again, cradling his face as she returned his kisses with a frenzy he was quickly losing himself in. He pressed into her, leaning her back against the wheel, hungry for more.

  The blare of the car horn sent them crashing down to earth, and Maggie yelped, falling to the floor and bumping her head on the well-preserved dashboard. She giggled, embarrassed, and slid up beside him again, putting a little distance between them. They sat, breathing hard and reining in the need to continue where they had left off. After a moment, he reached out and took her hand chastely in his, and they watched a battle, complete with flying machines and light sabers, play across the room. It wasn’t until a while later that Johnny understood her movie selection.

  “Jedi mind tricks, huh? This is where that comes from?”

  “Yep. But these guys have nothing on you.” She watched the screen a moment more and then, eyes still facing forward, asked him,

  “Why don’t your kisses turn me to ash?”

  Silence loomed large and long between them until Johnny finally offered an explanation.

  “I honestly don’t know, but I think it’s because you aren’t an inanimate object. I’m not absorbing you. You have your own energy source, and though our energies may…merge…you still remain you – separate and whole.”

  Johnny spoke matter-of-factly, and his answer was plausible, as plausible as anything concerning him could be, but Johnny felt horror wash over him at the realization that he had kissed Maggie without any thought to her safety. It had never even occurred to him that it might not be possible. What if he had harmed her...or worse? With crushing remorse, he realized later had arrived.

  Maggie tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably as the movie and their time together drew to a close. Johnny watched her gather her things quietly. He wished he could live the day over and over again. He thought he could be happy in this Never land of his if he could.

  As she climbed into her car,and he lifted the rolling garage door that separated him from real life, she leaned out to him, extending her hand. He clasped it in his and crouched down beside her open window.

  “This has been a perfect day,” she said sweetly, and touching his cheek she asked hopefully, “There will be more, won’t there?”

  His heart broke a little, and he kissed the tips of her fingers. “I hope so,” was all he could say.

  ***

  Maggie was both exhilarated and exhausted when she pulled the Cadillac into Irene’s garage and shut off the old girl. It had driven perfectly on the drive home, without a hitch or a jerk. Irene would think it was a miracle wrought by the angels. Maggie supposed it was. Angel more closely described Johnny than anything else she could come up with.

  She shut the door to the garage and skipped along the little path leading to the front porch. The night was brisk and cold, and Maggie was ready for a hot bath and the oblivion of deep sleep. It wasn’t until she had reached the door and was fumbling for the key that she noticed the figure huddled on the swing. Crying out in surprise, she gripped the keys like a weapon and pressed herself against the door.

  “Shad?” Maggie’s heart was in her throat as she peered over at her unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here? You scared me to death!”

  “I see the car’s workin’ just fine,” Shad replied sourly.

  Maggie approached him, heartsick, and reluctantly flopped down beside him on the swing. He scooted over as far as the swing would allow, clearly communicating his current low opinion of her. She didn’t speak but swung gently, waiting for him to vent his bruised feelings.

  “I rode my bike to the school. I did
n’t see any cars out front – no cars in back. All the doors locked up tight. I rode around to the side door closest to the dance room, thinking I would see your bike. No siree.” Shad waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, his voice grew harsh and accusing.

  “I rode my bike around back, thinkin’ I could practice hoop on the outdoor courts. Then I heard you, Maggie. I heard your voice. I got up close to the service door, and I could hear you talking to someone. It must have been a guy, ‘cause you were laughing and flirting.” Shad did his female impersonation, complete with wiggling and giggling, batting his eyelashes, and fluttering his hands. But neither of them were laughing.

  “I tried to see through the slats on the sides of the door, but I couldn’t see much – lucky for you, huh? I could just make out your aunt’s car, though. Imagine that.”

  Maggie sighed deeply and pillowed her face in her hands. This was a disaster, and she had no way to explain herself without lying even more. She had to say something, though.

  “I’m sorry, Shad. I didn’t want to lie to you. I just didn’t know how to tell you the truth. Irene’s car really wasn’t working well. She and I took it to the shop yesterday morning, and the mechanic told us it was probably the transmission. My aunt doesn’t have money for a new transmission. I wanted to help. I knew somebody that I thought could fix it. He helped me. I could have gotten in trouble, being in the school like that, and I didn’t want you involved, so I lied about the dance rehearsal.” It was as much of the truth as she could spare.

  “What friend, Maggie?” Shad protested, the hurt still evident in his voice. “Last I checked, you have about as many friends as I do, and none of them are handy dandy mechanics.”

  Maggie groaned. There was no way she could tell him about Johnny. “What?” Shad persisted, “You got something goin’ with the mechanics teacher, Mr. Blaney?” Shad snickered rudely, and then his eyes widened, and he wheeled on her, pointing. “You do, don’t you? That’s just sick, Mags!”