Looking for Eagles

by Savannah Swan

  “That’s more than understandable.”

  “Then why’d you feel the need to say that?”

  Jena was stuck. Why had she felt the need to tell Maggie she wanted to kiss her? What was that going to accomplish, other than putting a weird tone on the rekindling of their friendship? How could you become close with someone again, having sexual interest hanging over the relationship like that?

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I just… You’re the only person I’ve ever had strong feelings for, Maggie, and it’s just strange to think that even after twenty years, you evoke the same kind of feelings in me.”

  “Well, it’s the same over here,” said Maggie. “But I’m also grappling with the pain of my break up. So it’s kinda confusing.”

  “I guess we can be confused together, then.”

  Jena was pleased when Maggie laughed. Even though Maggie was superficially cheerful, it was obvious she was depressed, as anyone would be in her situation.

  “I’ve been confused ever since you left,” said Maggie softly.

  “I know.” Guilt settled over Jena’s heart like the snow. But she had to brush it off, because she didn’t want it to taint the new beginning they had now. “But you had Callie.”

  “Even when I was with Callie, I wondered about you. I wondered how you were doing. And a small part of me fantasized about running into you again,” said Maggie. “I thought it’d be so romantic to run into you—like this, I suppose—and start something again. That’s not to say I was disloyal to Callie. I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, so it felt safe to fantasize about.”

  “Well, here I am,” said Jena.

  “And Callie’s no longer in the picture,” added Maggie. “It seems serendipitous. If only the timing were better. And the place. You have a home in Austin to go back to, after all.”

  “An empty, cold home,” said Jena. “I travel so much for work and I’m so busy that I can’t even get a dog or cat. I like Austin, but how can any place be good if you’re not around the ones you love? And how can you be happy if you don’t even have any loved ones?”

  “I don’t know what to say to that,” said Maggie. “I’m not here to fix your life, or anything like that. But if you want to be friends again, maybe something more, down the line… I’m here. I’ve always been there for you, Jena, and I will be now.”

  Jena’s heart fluttered. She must have been a fucking saint in a past life to deserve someone like Maggie.

  In fact, she was so overcome with emotion that she could feel a tear prickling the corner of her eye, eventually falling. She wiped it away quickly.

  “I… I don’t have words,” said Jena, trying to keep her voice from cracking. This was nuts. This whole night was absolutely insane. She’d run into Maggie, of all people, and now she was trying not to cry…

  Maggie placed a warm hand on her shoulder. Even through her thick jacket, Jena could feel how solid and comforting the touch was.

  “You don’t have to have words. Let’s see what the next couple months brings us, okay?”

  6

  Maggie

  SUMMER 1993

  Sometimes Maggie found particular people fascinating and she didn’t really know why. At least this time, she had an inkling of what the reason could be.

  Jena was… kinda cute.

  She had a subdued expression and dreamy eyes that made her look like she was thinking about something else—the world inside her head, maybe. Sometimes, she would tilt her head like she was listening for something.

  What was she possibly listening for so carefully? …God? It was the only answer Maggie could come up with.

  The whole thing was perplexing because Maggie had never quite understood the word cute before. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. Puppies were definitely cute, and so were babies. The way Dad kissed Mom on the nose was cute, and of course, Mom and Dad told Maggie she was cute all the time, though recently, it had started to grate on her.

  But sometimes, Maggie would watch TV or listen to the radio or overhear older kids talking about someone being cute, and she knew there was more to it. It was a grown-up thing.

  And Jena was cute in a way that puppies and babies were not.

  When Maggie thought an animal was cute, she wanted to run up to it and pet it and give it a hug. And the funny thing was, she had the same impulse with Jena. Maggie wanted to sit next to her and listen to her talk and give her a hug. But she knew it was different.

  How could one word have such vastly different meanings?

  In any case, Jena’s cuteness had compelled Maggie to follow her around for the first week of camp, and indulging this desire had led to some decidedly weird feelings.

  For example, the time that all the kids had streamed into the cafeteria on Wednesday for lunch and Maggie had ended up two spots away in the line from Jena. And she’d felt a thrill go up her spine, the same thrill she got when she strapped herself into a rollercoaster and it started moving. How could a person give her that feeling? It was so novel and so intoxicating.

  Maggie wanted more.

  She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Jena. Usually, Maggie was pretty outgoing. When she saw someone she thought was interesting, it wasn’t a big deal to her to just go talk to them. But with Jena, it was different. Maggie’s palms got all clammy and she didn’t know what to say. Her usual refrain of “Hey! What’s up?” sounded stupid and basic.

  So when Maggie almost had a chance to say something to Jena, she chickened out. Jena had thrown her a bashful smile instead as she grabbed her utensils and walked away to her table with the rest of her cabin mates.

  Maggie had to talk to this kid. And in order to do that, she had to find a chance to talk to her. Most of the day was full of structured activities. They had to sit in a room, or in an outdoor area, and listen to the counselors and do whatever it was they’d come for. There were few opportunities to peel off and find Jena, and even when Maggie did have the chance, she could never find her.

  There weren’t that many campers, but the camp itself was pretty big, with tons of different buildings that were spread out through the forested area. And then there were numerous trails and other areas one could disappear off to.

  But this time, Maggie had succeeded. She’d watched as Jena had wandered off from her group to tread into the forest, and she’d followed. Maybe Jena had some kind of cool secret hidden there. Maybe they could share the secret, if they became friends.

  The thought was thrilling.

  But now that Maggie was faced with the golden-haired girl sitting on the sunny, flat rock, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to interrupt Jena’s contemplation.

  She also wasn’t entirely sure the kid’s name was Jena. She thought she’d heard a few people call her that, but what if she was wrong? How embarrassing would that be?

  She decided to just go for it. She’d finally gotten an opportunity, and she wasn’t going to let it slip by.

  “Hey,” she called out.

  The girl turned, eyes wide and startled, but her expression softened when she spotted Maggie. “Hey. You looking for birds, too?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Yeah. You can’t see them easily, but you can hear them.”

  As if on cue, some kind of songbird started singing, somewhere deep in the forest, and Jena did that thing again, where she tilted her head and half-closed her eyes, as if the bird’s song was like a chorus of angels.

  It was really pretty. Maybe this was what Mom had meant when she’d said that God showed His love through all His beautiful creations. Yeah, that made sense. Maggie would have to tell her about it later.

  “That’s a song sparrow,” said Jena.

  “How do you know so much about this?” asked Maggie, impressed. She didn’t know the first thing about birds and could never even remember what the ones in her backyard were called.

  “My grandpa teaches me about them,” said Jena. “He has a big ranch in Texas
and we sit outside and listen like this and he tells me what they are.”

  Well, that was an awesome story. Jena was definitely interesting.

  “So are you from Texas?” asked Maggie.

  “Yeah,” said Jena. “We live near Dallas. What about you?”

  “I’m from Philadelphia,” said Maggie proudly. In truth, she was from the suburbs, but she liked the city so much that she just told people she was from there. Nobody had ever heard of Bryn Mawr, anyway, unless they were from the area.

  “Oh, that’s cool,” said Jena, and Maggie could see that she really did think it was cool. “There’s so much history there.”

  “You like history?” asked Maggie.

  “My grandpa does. He teaches me about historical stuff too.”

  “Your grandpa sounds really smart,” said Maggie.

  “He is. Hey, come sit here with me,” said Jena, patting the rock.

  This was it. This was the beginning of their friendship. It was finally happening—Maggie had taken a risk and made it happen.

  She carefully wove her way through the underbrush and down to the rocks. There were several large, flat ones, partially covered by the lapping waves of the river, perfect for sitting down and listening for birds, or having a good conversation with a new friend.

  “Look, there’s a great blue heron,” said Jena, pointing.

  Maggie followed her line of sight and spotted the bird just in time to see it dart its neck for a fish. Her day had already become ten times more interesting in the past ten minutes, thanks to this fascinating kid. If she could just sit with Jena for longer, surely she’d soak up more interesting facts.

  “So if you’re from Texas, why are you at a camp in Pennsylvania?” asked Maggie.

  “My family’s from New York state, actually, so that’s how they knew about it,” said Jena, “but when my grandpa became sick when I was little, we had to move to Texas to take care of him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear your grandpa’s sick,” said Maggie quickly.

  Jena shrugged. “Old people get sick and we have to take care of them. I’m just glad I can spend so much time with him, since he doesn’t have much left.”

  Maggie blinked. That had been an oddly realistic, even harsh, thing to say for someone who seemed so dreamy.

  “That’s… good,” said Maggie, suddenly feeling awkward. “I guess you can continue watching birds with him in Heaven.”

  Jena looked right at Maggie and scoffed. “When people die, they die.”

  Now Maggie was truly unnerved. It was like Jena had become a different person. But even though it was freaky, it also made her more interesting.

  “I’m sorry,” said Maggie, not knowing what else to say.

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Jena, looking back at the heron. “It’s just what happens. I have to enjoy the time I get with him now. Can’t count on anything else.”

  You can count on God, Maggie wanted to say, but she could sense it wouldn’t be received well.

  “Maybe one day you can teach your grandchildren about the birds too, and tell them that’s what your grandpa taught you,” she said instead.

  Jena smiled, and Maggie was relieved. “Yeah. I’m trying to make sure I learn as much as I can from him and about him. He fought in World War II, you know. He has a lot of stories.”

  “I’m sure,” said Maggie.

  Before she could say anything else, the bugling of a horn came from further down the river. It was getting to be time for the evening campfire.

  “I guess we should walk over, right?” asked Maggie.

  “I’m going to sit here for a couple more minutes,” said Jena. “The loudness of the horn sometimes scares a few birds out of the forest. I got to see a pileated woodpecker that way. They’re super cool looking.”

  Maggie desperately wanted to stay right here, but she also felt the pull of obedience. She didn’t want to get in trouble during her first week.

  “Go on,” said Jena. “If you ever want to find me again, now you know where.”

  Maggie knew then that she’d been dismissed. Maybe Jena wanted some time to herself before joining up with the big, loud crowd of kids and adults.

  “I’ll see you later, definitely,” said Maggie.

  “Cool. It was nice meeting you.” Jena waved and grinned.

  Maggie smiled in return and reluctantly turned back down the path to return to the camp. She knew something magical had just happened, because the compulsion to know more about Jena had grown significantly with just the few tidbits she’d received today. Why was there an edge to Jena when she talked about her grandfather’s death? And why did she seem so… disconnected from everything else?

  Maybe Maggie could make it her mission this summer to find out, because it was obvious that Jena had hidden depths.

  It didn’t hurt that she was cute, too. If anything, this interaction had endeared her to Maggie more. And she’d had a chance to see more of those physical details up close: the way the breeze over the water tossed her hair, the dimples on her cheek when she grinned, the way she seemed so relaxed, like she belonged right there in the forest.

  It would be nice if Maggie could bring a smile to Jena’s face. And it’d be nice if she could kiss her on the soft, pink skin of her cheek. Or take her hand and hold it, or rather, examine all the lines and planes of it, then squeeze it tightly and never let go.

  A spark fluttered in Maggie’s chest and like clouds breaking to reveal the sun, a revelation came over her.

  This was what a crush was.

  The knowledge made Maggie even more excited, and she practically bounded to the camp, feeling the sudden urge to run in circles and go crazy. But she had to keep her feelings tamped down, because the campfire was usually a quiet, subdued space. Maybe she could write a letter to her best friend from home when she got back to the cabin. She had to tell someone all about Jena.

  Her first crush. Maggie squirmed with excitement when she thought of this.

  She walked over and joined the rest of her cabin, the counselor waving them over like they were a group of lost ducklings. They weren’t that young; they were sixth-graders, after all. They were going to be teenagers soon.

  But still, when Maggie saw how self-assured the older boys and girls looked, she knew she was eons away from being anything like them. She wondered what they would have to say on the subject of a crush.

  As all the campers gathered into groups, getting ready to walk over to the little amphitheater, Maggie spotted Jena walking out from the forest. As she approached her counselor, she put on a distinctly blank expression and hung back from the rest of the group, instead glancing back into the forest.

  As Maggie kept watching, Jena scanned the crowd, seemingly idly. But when they caught each other’s eyes, Jena grinned, and Maggie suddenly understood what it was like to feel your heart melt.

  7

  Maggie

  Maggie could have joined the others at Drew’s apartment—it hadn’t been too late when she and Jena had parted ways at the Eagle’s Nest—but she hadn’t felt like it.

  She’d needed some time to herself to think.

  That was something else she’d learned from Jena. Maggie had always been the kind of person who was happiest when she was surrounded by other people, but she’d learned to appreciate solitude in the forest with Jena. It gave her space to think, to sort out her life, and she needed that more than ever considering recent events.

  The pain of the break up was still staggering, there was no doubt about that. It was going to take a long time to get over, and Maggie had even considered seeing a therapist about it, because the loss was a form of grief. But meeting Jena had changed all that.

  It was life-changing when someone from your past stepped into your present. Maggie had the distinct feeling that she’d been forcefully veered onto a different course in life. A different timeline, even. A timeline where she and Jena might actually end up together. The meeting seemed serendipitous, like it was meant to be.


  Like God Himself had made it happen.

  Maggie shivered. She didn’t think God messed around with small things, like getting an A on a test, or getting a raise at work. This was the kind of thing that was God’s doing. It was too uncanny. To actually feel the hand of God in your own life… It was almost frightening. But if He knew what was best, then Maggie was going to roll with it.

  But thinking about God and Jena in the same train of thought just reminded her that Jena had fallen off the wagon long ago. In fact, Jena hadn’t even been a particularly religious child. As they’d entered their teen years, the difference had been even more stark.

  Maggie used to think she would never be able to date someone nonreligious, not because she needed them to believe in God, but because she needed someone who understood the depth of her faith, but Jena had always been the person who seemed like she could be an exception.

  Callie had been even more religious than Maggie. Or rather, she was more open about it. She actually went to church every Sunday, and had kept trying to get Maggie to go. But Maggie had always found that she preferred her prayers and thoughts to be kept private—just between her and God. She didn’t need to share it with anyone else.

  So maybe that was another reason it was for the best she and Callie had split up. Maggie hadn’t been looking forward to a lifetime of her partner nagging her to go to church—even if the church was very friendly to gay people.

  On the other hand, though, could she date someone who was as nihilistic as Jena? Jena had never seemed fundamentally happy, like Maggie was. Being religious was like a foundation for Maggie’s baseline happiness—she knew she could always feel content, as long as she had her faith. But Jena didn’t have that base. She never had.

  But then, this was Jena twenty years later. Who knew how she’d changed? While it was hard for Maggie to imagine Jena had suddenly become more spiritual, and she didn’t seem happy at all, it was possible she’d grown in ways Maggie couldn’t even conceptualize.

  At least now, in her adulthood, Maggie understood more about why Jena had felt the way she’d felt. Jena’s parents were extremely conservative Christians. Of course she’d grown up with a negative view of religion that had turned her off it from a young age. Maggie’s parents, on the other hand, were practically hippies. Maggie felt that they truly embodied Jesus’s teachings. It was odd that both she and Jena had ended up at the same Christian camp.