by Zart, Lindy
Under the dim light of a bedside lamp, Maggie reached for his hand. She squeezed, liking the size and feel of his hand around hers, missing the touch of it over the span of countless days, months, and years.
“It is a big deal,” she insisted. “I did need a reminder. Honestly, I’ve needed about a lifetime of them. But I’m going to try not to forget it from now on. Thank you.” Maggie looked up, every good thing about her found in Lance’s eyes as he stared back at her. She could see the strength he saw in her.
“I did love her,” he murmured.
Her eyebrows lowered. “Who?”
“Olivia.”
She tried to pull her hand away, not wanting to hear about his ex-wife, and he tightened his grip.
“Lance, I don’t want—”
He lowered his gaze to their joined hands. “But it was different, not like how it was when I was with you. I’ve never felt that with anyone but you. I expected you to tell me to go when I showed up here. I knew it was a bad idea from the start. I was nervous about seeing you.” He shook his head. “I don’t get nervous, and I was nervous.”
“I’ve seen you nervous,” she whispered.
His smile was sad as he nodded. “Yeah. A time or two.” Lance took a deep breath. “I’ve never forgotten a single detail about you, Maggie, not one. When I saw you . . . nothing was going to make me leave.”
Tone dry, she said, “What about the police?”
“Maybe them.” His smile grew.
The sound of chirping birds commenced, and Lance got to his feet. He took his cell phone from the nightstand and silenced the alarm. Maggie’s eyes traveled along his broad back, flat stomach, and defined arms. He was more solid than she remembered, but then, she was softer. Instead of feeling bad about it, like she generally would, she accepted it with a wry smile. She was heavier than she used to be, but there wasn’t a person in the world that could tell her she wasn’t healthier. Maggie’s smile grew. She was finally getting it. That was the right frame of mind.
“What are you smiling about?” he wondered.
“I used to be a lot skinnier.”
Lance’s expression darkened.
“Let me finish,” she said, getting to her feet. “But I’m healthier now, regardless of how big or small I am. Three weeks to notice a change, you said. I thought that was only physically, but I understand now that it’s mentally as well.”
Eyes bright, Lance grinned. “Now you’re getting it.” He moved to the dresser and took out a charcoal-colored tee shirt. “You know what else you’re getting?”
“No?” she asked warily.
“A run. Be ready in fifteen.”
“It’s five in the morning! My alarm doesn’t go off for another hour.” Maggie didn’t think she’d be able to go back to sleep, but it was the principle of the thing.
“And yet here we are, awake and stuff. Might as well make the most of it, right?” Lance lowered his voice as he said, “Unless you have something else in mind with which to occupy ourselves until six? I admit, I would have to rush, but I think I could manage it.”
“An hour wouldn’t be enough for you, huh? Funny, I don’t recall it taking that long.” She crossed her arms, trying not to smile, and waited for his comeback.
“That’s because you don’t remember things accurately, with it being so long ago. The years have muddled your brain, faded unforgettable moments to allow the loss to be better accepted by you. I can remind you, if you like.” Fire and mirth danced inside his eyes.
“Hmm.” Doubt covered the sound like sugar on a doughnut.
“We could test it out, just to prove or disprove me.” Lance winked.
She laughed. “Maybe another time. I wouldn’t want to put too much pressure on you and have you fail to live up to your potential.”
“I like pressure,” he promised.
Maggie scowled at him, but when he lifted an eyebrow, she headed for her bedroom.
She met him in the kitchen twelve minutes later. Protein snack and water ingested, they set off for a 3-mile trail near the Port of Dubuque. It was a good mile or so to get there, the air brisk enough to make her nose cold. Maggie’s house was located in a cul-de-sac, each house separated by trees on either side to offer semi-privacy. With the sun down and barely a light on in a window or a vehicle moving on the streets, it was eerie and calm.
“Do you miss acting at all?”
Maggie glanced at Lance, his expression hidden with shadows. “Not really. I guess I miss . . . the power of it, the ability to change into another person, even if they aren’t real. Fictional characters, however complex they appear, are so much simpler than trying to figure out real life.”
It was a few minutes before Lance spoke again. “What made you decide you wanted to act?”
She shrugged, eyes forward as they walked. “Do you remember the movie ‘The Neverending Story’?”
“Yeah. Sure. Everyone our age should know about that movie.”
“It was that movie. Not a single actor, or character, but all of them. They made magic. If a bunch of kids could do that, I didn’t know why I couldn’t. I was eleven when I decided it was something I wanted to try. I fantasized about being in the movie, any movie, actually. I had most of the lines memorized and I would act in front of my mirror. It seemed like the perfect existence—being adored by millions of people, feeling like I belonged somewhere. I wanted to be someone else.”
“Let’s not forget the most important detail—you fantasized about me too.”
Maggie grinned. “You’re right, I did. You were so cute, all arrogant and vulnerable at the same time. You always played bad-ass characters, but there was sadness in your eyes. You nailed the heartthrob role.”
Lance puffed out his chest and nodded. “My biggest role, and it didn’t even have anything to do with actual talent. Everyone loves a pretty face.” The self-mockery was clear.
“You weren’t just a pretty face,” she told him, bumping her arm against his.
“I know, I had a luscious body too.”
“Luscious?” Maggie snorted.
Lance shrugged, grin in place. “Let’s move on. You were telling me about your acting dream.”
Maggie tightened her ponytail holder as they crossed a dimly lit street. “I begged my parents to let me take acting lessons. They didn’t understand why I suddenly had it in my head that that was what I wanted to do, but I wouldn’t drop it. I went months where it was all I talked about. I watched television nonstop, just paying attention to facial expressions and actions, the emotions the actors put in their words. I was obsessed. They finally agreed to the acting classes after I promised not to give up halfway through and that it wouldn’t affect my grades.”
“Then what?”
She glanced at him. “Are you really interested in this?”
“I really am.”
“After about a year of acting classes, my acting coach felt I was ready to try out for roles in school and community plays.”
“And?”
Maggie smiled at the memory of the joy and shock that made her giddy as she began to get leading roles, the purpose she felt when she got up on stage and transformed herself into another being. She was made to be an actress. She’d known that at the young age of twelve. Few realized such truths about themselves then, and some never did.
“And I blew them all away, Lance.” Her cheeks hurt with the force of her smile. “I got the leads in a lot of plays, won awards, and when my parents realized how serious I was about it, they got me a respectable agent. I was fourteen when I was flown to Virginia to try out for the role of Cecilia Monroe. You know the rest.”
“I know some of it, not all.” His expression was lined with seriousness.
“What do you want to know?” she asked softly, the start of their running trail up ahead.
“When did you become anorexic? Before or during the show?”
Even with the gentle way he asked it, the questions stole her breath and made her insides free
ze.
“I don’t like talking about it,” she muttered.
“I know, Maggie. A lot of why we didn’t work falls on me. I know that, I accept that, but . . . I wasn’t the only one with things going on—seriously messed up things.”
The wind brushed loose locks of hair in Maggie’s eyes as she looked at Lance.
“I love acting. I always have, always will,” she confessed. “But I hate the media aspect of it. Every bad review, every negative comment about me or the show or my acting ability, they all imbedded their claws in me, and I felt them. Sharp and deep. I already had self-image issues. So afraid I was going to get fat again, I already didn’t eat much. And with the stress of the show, it got worse.
“I just kept thinking if I lost more weight, if I pushed myself harder, I would be good enough. I told myself I would make everyone love me, but no matter what I did, I could never please them all. I was punishing myself for things out of my control. It wore me down—not just physically, but mentally as well. And . . .” She swallowed. “Even though I love acting, I don’t miss that feeling of never being good enough, of having to constantly prove myself. The judgment and criticism. I don’t miss feeling like I’m acting for everyone but me.”
The route was scenic, a good portion of it along the Mississippi river and the waterfront attractions. It looped around casinos, a museum and aquarium, and residential and business areas as well. Maggie set her hands on her hips and looked toward the water, the silence that followed her words unwelcome and uncomfortable.
Lance spoke first. “After a while, you feel like it isn’t you anymore. You don’t belong to you. You have this role to play, and it never ends, not even when the camera stops rolling. Because there is always someone to act for.
“One day you wake up and you don’t know who you are anymore. You belong to them—the directors, the producers, the media, the fans, all of them—and it kills something inside of you. Your body isn’t yours. Neither is your face. You’ve been told what to do for so long that now you’re this thing that needs constant direction, right?”
“Right,” she whispered. Maggie had wanted so badly to be pretend she was someone else, and in the end, she got what she wanted. But it was too much. Everything was taken from her. Her image, her privacy, her life.
“It meant something to you—your acting. Your success mattered, because you had to fight for it. It wasn’t given to you. You wanted it, and you took it.”
She nodded, bending over to stretch. Maggie was relieved that he didn’t comment on her health issues, instead focusing on the acting part of the conversation.
Lance grabbed one ankle and brought his leg up to his back, then the other. “I grew up in that life, but I didn’t love it. It always felt more like an obligation than a goal, which could have something to do with my lack of success. The only time I really enjoyed it or wanted it to work, was when I was on ‘Easier Said’ with you. Otherwise, I never cared that much.”
“But you want the fitness show, don’t you? That’s something you want, something you’ll work for. Something you believe in.” Lance’s quest made sense to her then, and she felt she understood him better.
He looked up at her, solemnness lining his features. “I do. I can do something amazing with it.” Lance took a deep breath and sat down. “Forget I asked you to be on it. Whatever way it would benefit the show wouldn’t outweigh the publicity you would get. You’d be in the spotlight again, and it would be wrong of me to ask you to do that.”
Maggie stared at his lowered head as he straightened his legs, and then went to the cold, hard ground beside Lance. She did it with the perceived intention of further stretching out, but she also wanted to be near Lance. “I want to know more about it.”
He glanced up, a streak of joy crossing his features with wariness to follow. “Really? Are you sure?”
She finished stretching her legs, got to her feet, and offered him a hand. “I didn’t say I wanted to be on the show, but I am curious.” Maggie dropped his hand as he stood.
Lance had them alternate jogging and walking. He said it was better to run only a few minutes a day than not at all, that the alternating speeds burned more fat than walking or jogging alone. Maggie liked that every few minutes she got a break from jogging, whatever the reason was for it. He’d taught her breathing techniques to make it more bearable. It was important to focus on the air as it went in and out of her lungs, to keep it even and steady. Mouth breathing was bad, unless on an exhale, but Maggie found it worked best for her to breathe in and out through her nose.
They set out at a light pace.
“Basically, the idea is to do exactly what I’ve done for you, and thousands of others. Change their diets and activity levels to best fit them, and see results.”
“Simple,” she said dryly.
Lance glanced at her. “I understand there will be hiccups, that no one is perfect. Look at you with your cookies and salad dressing.”
Maggie grimaced and Lance laughed.
“You can’t make them feel bad when that happens,” she said earnestly. Criticism was cruel, and worked to destroy a person’s self-worth. “You have to be understanding, and tell them it’s natural to stumble along the way, maybe tell them about how you used to live as a way to empathize. Like, if you ever ate three candy bars in a row, let them know that.”
“Have you?” he asked jokingly.
Maggie’s silence was confirmation.
Lance smiled. “I’m sure I’ve had more than that at one time.”
“They were regular-sized ones,” she admitted in a mumble.
“I once ate three double cheeseburgers and two large fries. If I remember correctly, I washed it down with a thirty-two ounce soda.”
They grinned at one another.
Maggie told him, “If you can connect with them, show them you’re human and that you’ve made your own mistakes, it’ll make them feel better.”
“Meaning we should bond over failures?”
“Maybe. Yes,” she decided. “Failures show others they’re not alone.”
He was quiet until it was time to walk. “I need someone with your kind of heart on the show, to remind me and the guests of that kind of stuff. I’m not saying you, but someone like you.”
“A lot of things are affected by what you think you can do regardless of whether you can or can’t. Even me with running—I have to talk myself into it. My body listens to what my brain tells it. When I tell myself I can do it, I do it.”
Heart pounding from the first of six runs, Maggie took a breath. “And the show can’t be turned into a competition. Because to the people that don’t do as well as the others, that would be enough to make them want to quit. Having multiple people on the show at a time will backfire.”
Excitement sparked to life inside her as she talked. “You could focus on one person every three weeks. It would be hard to work with only one person for a whole three months, like you are with me, but if you can get them started, that could work. And then, they could come back after three months of working on their own, just as a quick update, and every three months after that, as a motivator to keep them invested in their health.”
The second run began.
Lance seemed to mull over her words as they jogged.
“It’s going to be uncomfortable for them at first, and scary,” she said when they walked once more. “Positive reinforcement every day. Don’t forget.”
He nodded, his gaze trained forward.
“What are you thinking?”
Lance looked at her, his expression rigid with the force of keeping it blank. “Nothing. We just—we make a really good team. Always did.”
He was right, they did.
She started jogging before it was the designated time, Lance following close behind.
“So. Jeff Mitchell.”
When Lance didn’t elaborate, Maggie shot him a sidelong glance and picked up the pace. He smoothly caught up, not the least bit winded.
&nbs
p; “You two dated a few years ago.”
“We started dating four years ago, yes,” she said, mouth tight.
“Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
Even with his face forward, she caught the glower on it. “Because he wanted to date you during ‘Easier Said’, and we dated instead.”
“I would have dated him, if you’d stayed out of it.”
“How long did you two date?” he asked casually, a tick forming in his jaw.
Maggie turned her gaze to the street ahead. “Two years.”
“He proposed.”
“I said no,” she countered.
Lance stopped jogging, jerking around to face her. “You didn’t date him all those years ago because you knew he was wrong for you, and I was right. That’s why you dated me. And that’s why you fell in love with me. And that’s why we would still be together, if we both hadn’t been young and dumb, but especially if I hadn’t.”
Maggie inhaled sharply, eyes wide as she felt the blood drain from her face.
“I can’t believe you gave him another chance,” he continued. “What did you think was going to happen the second time around?”
She narrowed her eyes. “People don’t get second chances? Is that what you’re saying? I gave you one, didn’t I?”
Lance’s ferocity wavered, and then came back full force. “Not him, not when you knew there was nothing there.”
“Why do you care?” she snapped. “You got married. I wasn’t allowed?”
“Not to him!”
“I didn’t marry him,” Maggie screamed back, her hands curled in fists.
“You were trying to prove to yourself that things would have worked for you two if I hadn’t butted in, weren’t you?” Lance accused, his face twisted with anger and ghosts. “You probably would have married him, just to prove to yourself that what we had was a mistake, and that you never really loved me!”