by Buhl, Sarah
“I love you too, Hannah.” I smiled as I stood.
She was right. This is something I need to do.
No matter what happens or what life throws, I will not let it change me for the worst. It can change me and mold me into a new, more whole person. But, I will not let it pull me down.
__________
I looked at my keys I had moved to my coffee table after my shower. I hadn’t driven my car in months.
The last time I used it was the day my leg went crazy on me.
I had driven to the grocery store without issue, but when I parked and climbed from the car, my leg grew stiff and painful. I couldn’t bend it and it felt as though I had danced on it all day without rest.
It scared me and I called Gabe to meet me and take my car home.
Karl was with him that day. I hadn’t even thought of that part. Karl had driven Gabe’s car to my apartment while Gabe drove mine.
They both made sure I didn’t feel embarrassed by it. Gabe held my hand that day and said, “Magster, I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but we’ll get through it.”
When we had arrived at my apartment, I didn’t even look at Karl. I felt him though. I realized it now. I felt him there, just watching and feeling out the situation. He said nothing, but his presence was enough.
Now, it was my turn to take back the same resilience I held in everything. Regardless of what would happen at my upcoming appointment, I was still me. I will always still be me. I may have a debilitating disease, but I was still me. I was a stronger version of me now. I was fighting my own battle that is life and I would come ahead because in the end it wasn’t a battle—it was a change. It was just a change I would use and grow from. We would never evolve as human beings if we just gave up when something difficult happened. It’s in adversity we become more. Without it, we are stagnant. I did not want to be stagnant.
I was stagnant for several months, wallowing in what could happen or had happened. I thought my job was my life. I thought I had everything planned, but there is nothing that can be planned. I had to stop being the person that tended to everything, keeping her life and ideas in line. I needed to be free.
I pulled my lip in on a nod and a smile as I picked up my keys. I knew what I would get tattooed.
I put my key in my apartment door and locked it before turning to face the stairs. There were seventeen of them. Seventeen steps to take to get down to my car. I recited the words to the song Karl had shared with me the day of my first MRI and I let them sink inside. I let them fill me and knew that I could do this. I had to.
And, I would be really fucking on, just as Rilo Kiley said in the song, and go get a tattoo.
I put my hand on the railing and taking a deep breath, I stepped down.
It was easier than I thought it would be. I had made it scary. I made it into more than it was. It hurt to go down them, and yeah I thought I might fall a time or two, but I made it. I made it down those damn stairs, and I twirled my keys as I walked to my car. I could do this.
I would do this.
Determination can make humans do things they otherwise thought themselves incapable of. Determination was my life’s work; why stop now?
I reached Sid’s shop in no time; it was a few blocks away. But, this was a baby step. I parked my car and sat for a few minutes, just smiling at the steering wheel in satisfaction.
I did it.
I didn’t break. I wasn’t different. I was the same Maggie I’ve always been. But was I still Maggie?
I thought of Karl and his calling me Margaret. I was Margaret, and I was Maggie. But, I feel like I was becoming more than either. I was becoming the two combined—the person I always should be. I couldn’t measure my success on what I’ve achieved by status. That was an outward measure; I had measured myself by the approval of others: my boss, Toby, my friends, my family. I had always wanted to be the girl that everyone loved and went to for help. It made me feel stronger. But, by doing that, I lost myself. I lost myself to the belief I was only as good as what I was doing to achieve more. I lost sight of what achievement meant.
Achievement can only be measured by the value I give to myself.
I looked to my car ceiling and thought of the day I quit my job.
“You really think this is good for you, Maggie?” my boss had asked. “You’re making a huge mistake. If it’s because of your illness, we can work around it.”
“No, I don’t think it’s that. I sometimes wonder if this illness is just a physical manifestation of how I’ve been living. I mean, I had focused on making a name for myself, and I forgot my name.”
My boss laughed at me. “What the hell does that even mean?” he asked.
“It means I’m tired of not feeling. I’m tired of seeing people as trees that I can manipulate to grow and choose a certain way in life. You know, like bonsai trees. People aren’t bonsai trees. They aren’t something that can be molded and formed to buy and consume what we want them to. I want to provide people with information and knowledge to be more. I don’t want to sell them a product. I want to show them a better way to live. This place is bullshit. We are selling crap to people and labeling it as valuable. We are encouraging them to value themselves based on what they purchase. That’s bullshit. We are forming them based on what we tell them they need.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?” he asked.
“What’s wrong with that? It’s making things worse. This need to sell and consume is what the problem is. We need to let people decide for themselves and grow without being molded into the consumers we want them to be. They need to think for themselves.”
“Think for themselves?” he laughed. “No, Maggie. That’s the sound of someone who’s lost their fight. I thought you were stronger than this. You need to just get past this illness and come back into work and kick some ass. What you did with that Veterans’ day thing was perfect. I want to see more of that.”
I leaned on his desk. I met his eyes and with every ounce of strength I knew I possessed, I said, “No.”
That one word had been the strongest word I ever said.
I was always giving the wrong parts away. I was giving the best parts of me to the worst parts in the hope I could reach the height I thought I needed. But, life wasn’t about height or moving up. It was about moving outside my personal space. It wasn’t about me. Everything I had done in the name of doing for others I did in vain for me.
I had been the advertising agency but, no longer.
Now, determination filled me to help people for them, not for anything I could gain from it.
My personal space was expanding, and it was beautiful.
I climbed from my car and twirled my keys with one hand as I did a little dance, walking into Sid’s shop. It wasn’t a serious dance, just a joyful one that stemmed from understanding I wasn’t a tool anymore. I laughed at that thought. A tool. I’ve called others that regarding being just downright dumb. But, we are all tools—I was just learning to be one to build and not destroy.
The bell rang as I walked through the front door of the shop and Sid smiled when he saw me.
“Maggie—darling, I’ve not seen you since Christmas last year. How are you?” he asked, pulling me in for a hug.
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
“Are you sure? I heard you were going through something.” He held me out at arms’ length to evaluate me.
“Yes, I’m sure. We’re all going through something at some point, aren’t we?” I asked with a smile.
“Well, I suppose we are, but not everyone does it with a smile.” He smiled as he ruffled my stocking cap atop my head. “What are you coming by for? Are you here for a visit or do you plan on getting a little ink?” He laughed as Wynn walked from the back room.
“Hey, Maggie. Hannah texted you’d be coming by, too.” He stepped toward me and pulled me in for a hug. It shocked me, and it was a statuesque hug, but it meant more because I knew he didn’t do it often.
&n
bsp; I returned the hug and felt myself connecting with him in a way we hadn’t before. He was a decent person, and I had judged him at first, thinking he was someone else based on his appearance. But, he’s become one of the most genuine and authentic people I’d ever met—other than Karl.
I saw Karl in Wynn. They both had the depth not often shared. It was as if there was a quiet understanding they held close to them because they knew everyone else would reach it in their own time. There was no need to push people to catch up to them.
I released the hug and smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He smiled in return as he pointed toward the back room. “You’re getting a tattoo then?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, I am. Would you like to do it?” I asked. “I heard you’ve almost completed your apprenticeship.”
His eyes grew. “You want me to do it? Isn’t this your first?” he asked.
“Yeah, but why not? I’ve seen your work and I trust you with this.”
“Well, thank you, Maggie. That means a lot,” he said, running his hand across the top of his hair. “What are you thinking of getting?” he asked.
“Well, I have an idea, but I don’t have it drawn out or anything. I think it will take more than one visit here.”
“Okay, well let’s go sketch it out first, and then I can come up with something for you.”
__________
“So this will look bad ass when it’s done,” Hannah said, as she hovered behind Wynn, watching his work. She held Smee in one arm while she toyed with her lip with her other hand.
She met my eyes and smiled as she wagged her eyebrows, watching Wynn. She mouthed the words, “So hot,” and smirked at me as she pointed at him. I shook my head. I liked seeing this part of her again. The part that wasn’t afraid to be happy.
“I love seeing you so happy, Hannah.”
She smiled at me. “I like seeing you happy, too. It seems like you should be pissed at the world but you’re not. Does this have to do with a certain friend of ours?” she asked with a grin. “You know, I’ve not talked to you since you left the wedding reception the other day. That kiss was quite a spectacle.” She winked and Wynn shook his head. I saw a grin form on his face though.
“What?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he said as he wiped the tattoo before starting again. “I just found it very enlightening. You two seem connected, but I couldn’t help but wonder about Toby.”
“Well, Toby and I are finished. We ended a long while ago; we just had to remind ourselves of that. We spent a lot of time talking the last couple days and we know it’s the best for both of us. We were there for a time in each other’s lives, but we couldn’t be a forever thing. I’m sure we could’ve worked at it and made it a forever thing, but there wasn’t that click, you know? That click that said, this is it, we are here and we are supposed to be together.”
He stopped working and looked up at Hannah and Smee. They gave each other a smile, and he went back to work.
“So, what about Karl, then?” Hannah asked. “Does he give you a click?” She laughed a light laugh, looking down at her son and kissing his forehead.
“Yes,” I said without depth. “Yes, he does. But, that isn’t why I feel this joy right now. Sure, he’s part of it, but he isn’t the sole reason. I’ve come here on my own, by this reminder of who I am and Karl is the welcome addition to it all.”
I didn’t need to say more. I didn’t need to go on about how amazing he was. I didn’t have to convince them because it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how wonderful all his qualities were. I didn’t have to provide facts and measures to base his wholeness on as if I needed to convince them.
He just was.
And, I just was.
34
Karl
Fall
I parked outside the Böhme and took the stairs up to the second floor. I walked in to see Wynn’s photos displayed on the walls. It was the first time he had prints made for a showing. In the past, I heard that he preferred to keep them to himself. I suppose every artist goes through that stage—the stage of believing the work was more worthy than the masses to view. I’ve been there, we’ve all been there. It’s kind of the idea of why bother—why put it out there if no one will get it?
But it’s done for those few people that will get it. It’s done to connect with another human being through creating something bigger than ourselves. Something is made and when it is viewed by another person, it gives life to it. That’s why it is done and why it must be shared. That’s why I do it.
I was happy to see Wynn sharing his work.
“Karl—it’s good to see you,” Pike said as he rounded the corner and found me looking at a photograph of Hannah nursing Smee in a field of flowers.
“Hey, Pike. Wynn’s work is perfect,” I said, moving on to the next photo.
“What have you been up to?” Pike asked, as he adjusted his bowler hat. His long braids stuck out of the bottom of it and he played with his beard.
“Not much, just passing the days while I have some time off. It’s still too cold to get back out and do some jobs,” I said.
“Yeah, I hear ya. It’s been a bear this year already. How’s Maggie doing?” he asked. “I’ve been thinking about that girl.”
“She’s doing okay. She had her spinal tap the other day. I imagine she’s doing okay now. She’s okay.”
“You just said “She’s okay” three times. Are you okay?” he asked with a smile.
Pike had become one of my closest friends over the last couple years. I was close with the guys, but Pike was something different. There had been several nights of just he and I hanging out, talking and contemplating the universe.
That wasn’t something you talked to just anyone about.
“I’m teetering on sanity, but who isn’t? I mean, I’m trying to rationalize this need to be with her. I barely know her. I met her last year and I couldn’t stand her. Then I realized, she’s just a human being like me. I realized that my perception of her was wrong and I didn’t allow the layers she had built up to cloud my view of her. I wanted to know the real her, at the root. I think I’ve seen that. But who knows—maybe that’s just another perception. Can we really know anyone?”
“That’s quite the question isn’t it?” Pike asked. He crossed his arms and leaned into the wall next to a portrait of Smee sleeping. “We each have parts we will never share with others. It’s ours and ours alone. But, that doesn’t mean we can’t love someone and the parts we see. And they then love the parts we share. That’s what unconditional love is, I think. It’s when you love someone regardless of the parts you don’t see or understand. You just love ‘em.”
“That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t care about the other parts. Every part of her, the flaws and all—I love. She’s amazing in her flaws.”
“Well, then why are you here talking to me then? Why aren’t you hanging out with her? Why do you have that vacant sound to your voice as if you’ve lost her?”
“Because I don’t think I ever had her to lose, and that hurts the most. No, scratch that. I don’t want to possess her and think of her as mine, as being something lost, as if she were some piece of precious metal I picked up at the pawn shop. No, she’s more than that. I will be happy to be part of her life no matter what.”
“Well, then back to my other question—why aren’t you with her?”
“I don’t really know.” I laughed.
“Maybe that’s something you need to figure out. How are your dreams?” he asked with a serious expression.
“Mine are fine—how are yours?” I asked with a grin.
“Fine? Really?” he asked.
“They are as bearable as they can be. They are still there, but they are manageable.”
“Yeah, that’s about how I feel too.”
Pike had fought in Vietnam and the same dreams I had haunted him as well. They were different, but they both still tormented us.
“I’ve been workin
g out some ideas on new paintings and boxes,” I said.
Pike tilted his head with a smile.
“Yeah, I have one that has to do with Margaret, an actual painting, not just a box.” Pike lifted his eyebrow in question. “Yeah, I know—crazy isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s crazy as much as it’s a step in a new direction.” He smiled.
“I think you’re right,” I said.
__________
I took my seat at my work bench and stared at the box I had begun last month. I wanted to tell everyone, Margaret in particular, that this box wasn’t what it looked like. This box held a fear I never wanted to share with anyone.
I lifted the lid.
This box was part of my truth. It didn’t define me as Margaret’s disease didn’t define her, but it was my truth none the less.
It wasn’t me in that box. But it was me at one time. It was the me that had been afraid to be the me of now. I didn’t think it possible to be sure of myself, to let go of the past and to let go of the pain I once carried. To embrace the future was the most fearful step I had to take. This box represented the me that scared me.
The enemy was me. The enemy was the me that thought there was some kind of difference between myself and others—a separation. I thought I was alone in this world and I longed for it. I longed to be away from everyone and everything, hoping the voices and the anger I held inside me could be contained. I hadn’t wanted to lash out at anyone and hurt others—so I was alone. But even more so—I hadn’t wanted to let them in. It was safe and comfortable living in the quiet recess of my mind.
I was alone then.
I’m not alone now.
I needed to let go of my fear and I had to put it into this box. With every stroke of my brush, I became more relaxed. Whatever would happen, everything else would be okay.
That was a difficult thing to understand. The fear of death and the future came from my fear of others making it without me. I couldn’t carry that burden forever. No one could. I had to paint and get it out. They would be okay.
35
Margaret