quintessence.

by Buhl, Sarah

  I climbed in my car and it tried to turn over, but stopped. I pumped the gas a couple times, and it started right up. I knew it would.

  I saluted Blake and pulled out of my parking spot and headed to Maggie’s.

  __________

  I parked my car and closed my eyes, trying to slow the sewing of the pieces together in my mind. I couldn’t rush anything. I had to take it at the usual slow pace I took in life.

  A knock on the window of my car caused me to jump, and on reflex my arms popped up as if I were getting ready to throw a punch.

  James stood on the other side of the window and put his hands up in surrender.

  I rolled my window down.

  “You aren’t planning on waiting here for her, are you? You have to come to the door to get her. It’s your first date; you have to do it right,” he said.

  I jerked my head back in shock.

  “Yes, date.” He walked around the front of my car and sat in the passenger seat. “It’s a date, Karl. At least I hope it is. I love Toby as a person. He has a great spirit, but I don’t think he’s what my daughter needs. That said, this is a date. I know it is. But, you don’t have my blessing to be the reason she leaves him. She has to come to that on her own.”

  I had no response to that.

  “Okay. So, where are you planning to go tonight?” he asked as he clapped his hands together and put them over the heater running in my car.

  I opened my mouth a couple times before speaking. “Um, dinner and a movie?” I said as a question.

  “You’re more creative than that and I know you have something better planned. You aren’t a dinner and movie kind of guy, are you Karl?”

  “No, I’m not sir. I learned a while ago that I didn’t want to waste my life on the typical.” I smiled and turned to face James. “I have to confess something,” I said.

  He tilted his head in question.

  “I really like your daughter. She’s taken me by surprise and I have to say, I’m thankful I chose that day of all days and that time, to go visit my friend. Had I not, I wouldn’t have ran into you and your daughter. I wouldn’t be sitting here now at this moment, discussing what the best date to take her on was.”

  “It’s interesting how things work isn’t it?” James asked.

  I nodded and we both looked out the front window for a time. I thought on how it felt like everything in my life brought me to this moment and how if even the smallest of things changed, I wouldn’t be here now.

  “Good,” James finally said as he gave me a nod. “Let’s go get my daughter for you then, shall we?”

  ___________

  She hugged me when she saw me. The thread pulled tight, yet again.

  “Bye,” she said to her parents, and she took my hand and led me down the stairs.

  “Okay where are we going first on this little adventure you planned for us? I dressed comfortable, like you said,” she said as she looked down at her clothes. “I have a new healing for yesterday.”

  “You do? What’s that?” I asked.

  “Well, my dad danced with me in my living room.”

  “That’s great,” I said with a smile.

  “Yes, it is. He twirled me.”

  The joy on her face was infectious. I liked her dad before, but now I thought he was one of the greatest men I had the privilege of meeting. I had never planned on having kids, but seeing how his daughter loved him made me want a daughter of my own someday. I hoped I could be even half the father he was to his daughter.

  I opened the door of my car for her and smiled as she pulled her hat down tighter over her ears.

  “Now, I want you to keep an open mind tonight, okay?” I asked.

  “Of course—I always keep an open mind with you. I love the man-bun by the way,” she said with a wink.

  “The what?” I asked.

  She pointed at my hair. “Man bun.”

  I laughed. “Why does it have to have man in front of it? Why can’t it just be called a bun?”

  “Well, because you’re a man, of course.”

  “Yes, of course I am. But how does it make it any different that it is a bun on a guy? It’s still a bun.”

  “It is. But it’s a man bun. It’s hot.” She winked at me and her cheeks flushed and a few more knots sewed through my thoughts.

  I shut her door and walked around to my side of the car. I smiled to myself as I thought of her brilliant and free comments to me. She held nothing back.

  “I really do like your bun,” she said with a laugh. “It suits you and notice I didn’t add the man to it?”

  “Yes, I did notice. But you know—it’s not a bun. It’s just my hair pulled up and out of my face, then twisted around in a weird way,” I said with a grin.

  “Yep, that’s a bun, Karl.” She laughed.

  “Okay, it’s a bun. You’re right.”

  “I’m excited about tonight,” she said as I pulled away from the curb.

  “I am too, Maggie,” I said. “I have a lot of fun with you and I want you to know, that even when I met you at the Christmas party, I wanted to know more about you. You have this enchanting way about you. You kind of remind me of a fairy. I know it sounds odd. But, it’s true.”

  She laughed, but it wasn’t a mockery. She just laughed for the joy at my words. “A fairy?” she asked.

  “Yes, you have this wild strength that is beautiful. I know my saying that seems strange. But, I learned a while ago not to hold back on my strange thoughts. I just let them flow.”

  “Well, I thank you for letting them flow. That means a lot. And, I must confess your strangeness is attractive.”

  “I accept that compliment,” I said and felt my blush move up my neck.

  We drove the last few blocks in silence and I parked my car. Maggie turned to me to speak and pulled her lip in, trying to hold back her emotions.

  “I used to volunteer here when my grandma was alive. She was my dad’s mom. I’d spend the weekend with her. We’d come here on Saturdays, and then go to her church on Sundays,” Maggie said. She smiled up at the sign for the soup kitchen.

  “Good, you will know your way around the place then. We have to work for our food.” I winked at her and offered her my right arm, so I could be on her left side.

  “So, tell me another healing.”

  “I went to work today.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep. I went to work and told them to fuck off,” she said with a sincere determination. She smiled through the entire sentence.

  The needle pulled a new stitch through.

  “You what?” I asked with a laugh.

  “Yeah, I went in there and told them I quit. Their insurance sucked. I could get on my dad’s if I didn’t work there. So I quit. I don’t know what to do about my apartment though. Maybe Toby will move back in when he returns. That would help with bills. Or I could sublet Hannah’s old room. I think I’ll do that and just get an odd job or do web design. I could do that.”

  She was rambling.

  “Are you sure that was a positive moment?” I asked.

  She laughed, “Says the guy who accused me of selling my soul to the devil. But yes, it was positive. I felt this release of letting go of a dream. It was like I didn’t have to have it to be me. Plus, I have some ideas.”

  “Ideas are good. I’ve been working on ideas myself.”

  “Of course you are,” she said with a gentle squeeze of my arm.

  I laughed. “What’s that mean?” I opened the door for her.

  “It means I couldn’t imagine you not working an idea out. You’re always in it—working on something. I see it in your eyes. You’re doing your visualizing and sorting things out.”

  “I suppose I am,” I smiled at her and waved my hand for her to enter.

  “I like you Karl,” she said and then hugged my arm. “I mean it; you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

  There it goes again. I tried to stop the tightening threads, and I focused on
Toby—my friend. Toby was the guy who never once looked at me as if I were a killer. Toby—he’s the one holding the cards right now.

  He told me once about his dad’s time in the military. Toby was a military brat and knew what it was like being around someone who had served. His dad was in the first Iraq war and suffered from Depleted Uranium exposure. He died two years after returning. During those years, Toby saw what the effect of war had on his father. He wasn’t the same.

  Toby was the one friend I could talk to about that. Yet another reason I couldn’t have feelings for Maggie.

  “Is your name Maggie?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Um, yes my name is Maggie. Did you forget that already?”

  “No, what I meant was, is that your given name?”

  “No it’s not. Margaret is what they named me at birth—after my grandmother on my dad’s side. She was the same one that brought me here. It’s funny you ask that now.” She pulled her cap from her head and pushed it into the pocket of her sweater. She pulled part of it through the hole in her pocket.

  “This was her sweater.” She smiled a sad smile.

  “You loved her a lot.”

  “I did. She spent her life just being there for people. She was the person I always went to when I was sick. If I couldn’t go to school because I was sick, she’d come over and just sit with me while I watched TV. She’d wear this sweater, and she always had tissues in the pocket and she’d pull one out for me.”

  That’s why Maggie had worn it the last week. She was looking for the comfort her grandmother provided.

  “What does your name mean—Margaret?” I asked.

  “Pearl,” she said with a quiet tone.

  “Karl, my man. How the heck are you?” Jackson asked as he walked slowly toward us. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, as he nodded to Maggie.

  “Jackson, this is Maggie.” I put my hand on her shoulder as I introduced her, and more stitches threaded as I understood what her sweater meant to her.

  I imagined what that scene looked like of her as a little girl. She curled up on a couch and rested her head on her grandma’s lap. As a little girl, her grandmother wiped away her tears with this sweater and it said a lot about Maggie that this is the one thing she cherished.

  My first impression of her was wrong.

  “Hi Jackson.” She smiled and put her hand out to him and he took it in his and kissed it. He winked at her as she let go of his hand and smiled back at me.

  “I love this guy,” Jackson said, pointing at me.

  I laughed. “I love you, too.”

  “When are you going to invite me to your place again?” Jackson asked.

  “I’m taking Maggie and her parents there tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe you can come next weekend?”

  “That’d be awesome, man. So you’re taking the parents out there, huh?” he asked and smiled at Maggie.

  “Oh, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Maggie said, turning toward me. “It will just be me tomorrow. They have some church thing they have to get back for. So it looks like it’s you and me buddy.” She gave a light punch to my arm.

  She wore fingerless mittens that poked out under her sweater, leaving her fingers open to the air.

  “You should wear those tomorrow,” I said, jumping to a random topic to not think about the magnitude of being alone with her at my place.

  “These?” she asked as she pulled at the wool.

  “Yes, those are perfect for out there,” I said. She’s perfect for out there.

  She shrugged her shoulders before turning to the kitchen.

  “Maggie? Is that you?” Regina asked as we walked into the pantry that led to the kitchen.

  “Regina!” Maggie squealed and jumped into the older woman’s arms. “I haven’t seen you in years. When did you move back?”

  “Last summer—Stuart retired, and we wanted to come back. It’s so good to see you. How’s your dad?” Regina asked.

  “He’s good. He’s in town through tomorrow. You should look him up. He’d love to see you.”

  “Oh, and my little friend,” Regina smiled at me and pulled me in for a hug. “Are you two here together?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Maggie said as she pulled my arm toward her. “What do you need us to do because I’m starved and I know we have to work to eat. Karl reminded me of that.”

  “Peel some potatoes, kids,” she waved her hand toward a massive pile of potatoes and Maggie laughed.

  “Let’s peel some potatoes,” she said as she began to remove her mittens and sweater. She pulled her hair back away from her face and I noticed the beautiful line of her neck. She laughed at something Regina whispered to her and more threading ensued.

  We entered the kitchen and found Conall standing over the grill. He saw me and a smile formed on his face. “Karl, you finally came to help us.” He pulled me in for a hug.

  “Thanks for reminding me how I’ve lacked in helping out here,” I laughed.

  He looked down at me and smiled. “You’re here more than Auntie Brecken. She’s been too busy with Blake to come here the last few weeks.”

  I looked back to Maggie. “Maggie, this is Conall. He’s Brecken’s nephew.”

  “Oh, I met your aunt last week. She’s awesome,” she smiled up at him. “But, she is definitely lacking the gene that made you so tall.”

  I laughed.

  “Yeah, Conall takes after his dad and grandpa. I’ve missed you man, you’ll have to come out to my place again soon.”

  “I agree. Jess and I were thinking about coming in a couple weeks to help you with things,” Conall said.

  “That’d be great.”

  “Potatoes!” Regina yelled from the other side of the serving line, to remind us what we needed to do.

  __________

  After we did our job in the kitchen, we took our places at the table to eat. Maggie took the time to say hello to everyone she passed. She took the seat across from me and gave me the same smile she had shared with each of those here.

  “You know, being here reminds me of some of the things I dreamed of doing as a kid. I would talk to my grandma about helping people. I told her that’s what I wanted to do and I didn’t care how much I made, I wanted to just live and make other people happy. This is great to be back here. I wasn’t always so occupied with my personal space,” she said with a smile and pointed expression.

  “I could tell you weren’t,” I said, taking a bite of potatoes.

  “How could you tell?” she asked.

  “Because it isn’t forced. You just do it. You love people.”

  She nodded as she smiled at the girl who sat next to her. She was a younger woman, with buzzed black hair. They started a conversation as Jackson took a seat next to me.

  “Karl, this is it, man. I can feel it,” Jackson said.

  I gave him a questioning look, and he nodded at Maggie with a wink.

  I shook my head and focused on my food. I couldn’t imagine this was it, but I also couldn’t help but find myself agreeing with him.

  __________

  “That was a fantastic time,” Maggie said as we walked to my car. “Now what?”

  “Now, I have something cool to show you,” I said.

  I opened the door for her and she climbed in, rubbing her hands together to keep warm. “I can’t believe how cold it is already. Is it going to be okay to camp tomorrow night?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’ll be fine.” I laughed to myself because I knew what she was imagining my place to look like. A rugged tent made from tarps. Cans hanging across the way as a warning. I couldn’t wait until she saw it.

  I turned down the last street to get to Blake’s parent’s business. They owned the entire building and Blake lived above it. There was a dance studio and I had cleared it for use for the evening. Andrew, Blake’s dad told me it wasn’t a problem and the woman who rented it wanted it used as much as possible.

  I parked on the street outside the building and Maggie looked a
t the sign, then back at me. “A dance studio?”

  I nodded as I turned my car off. We both climbed from the car and I used Andrew’s key to get into the building.

  She walked into the center of the room. I turned the lights on and a smile formed on her face as she looked in the large mirror covering the wall. She glowed in here. Her demeanor changed and she had a freedom in her step as she turned back to walk to me.

  “You know, you’re the one person I’d try this in front of,” she said. “But it will take me a few minutes to get up the nerve. You get to pick the song though.”

  “Yes, I do know.” I did, and I understood why.

  “Okay, to distract me as I build up the nerve to do this—tell me a wound and healing,” she said, pulling at her sweater and then running her hand through her hair to pull it back into a pony tail with the band around her wrist.

  “It’s a long one. You ready?” I asked.

  “Yep.” She removed her sweater and sat on the floor of the studio, removing her boots and adjusting the leg warmers she had on under them.

  She stretched as I began my story.

  “Last year, I was standing in the checkout at a dollar store. It was around Veteran’s Day. I stood for a good five minutes at least, staring at this giant Thank Your Soldiers sign as I watched people walk around me. The words, every letter of them struck me as empty. They were just a design printed on paper that some advertising agency came up with to spark or trigger a need inside consumers.

  “Soldiers, freedom, I should be thankful for my ability to shop.” So, I began to think—what is our freedom? I’m here, shopping in a store and buying crap built by child labor in other countries. We had the unions and labor revolutions in the early 1900s to gain more freedom and rights in our labor—only to exploit it half way around the world one hundred years later. But damn it, we better thank a soldier for that right.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she crossed her legs and rested her chin on her hand.

  “There is no need to be sorry,” I said.

  “Yes, there is. I was part of that. I sold crap like that to people,” she said, while she pulled her elbow to stretch her arm muscles. “What is your healing of that?” she asked with a saddened expression.