by Harmon, Amy
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Johnny mimicked her. “Have you always been such a goody-two shoes?”
“Nobody says goody-two-shoes anymore!” Maggie said crossly and walked to her bike, squatting beside it to undo the lock.
“Maggie,” he coaxed. “Maggie?” She really tried not to look up at him. “How do you drive a blonde crazy?”
Maggie’s head shot up, and her eyes locked on his.
“You put him in a round room and tell him to sit in the corner,” Johnny quipped, but his eyes were serious.
“Not bad, Kinross. Did you make that up yourself?”
“It’s not really a joke, I guess.” Johnny shifted his weight. “It’s the way I feel...like I’m stuck in a place with the wrong instructions. I’m making a mess of things.” He halted, shrugging his shoulders. “Come on, Maggie. I’ll buy you dinner. Whaddayasay?”
Maggie sighed and stood, pulling her bike upright as she did. “I don’t know if my heart can take it, Johnny. Plus, I eat like a horse. I doubt you’re prepared for the price of today’s cheeseburgers.”
Johnny gazed down into her upturned face for several long heartbeats. “My heart’s a little battered too, Maggie.” His voice was low and soft, and Maggie’s anger dissolved like a snowflake on her outstretched tongue. His heart was battered too. She groaned and shook her head. He’d lost everyone and everything. They had a great deal in common, didn’t they?
“All right,” Maggie surrendered, her voice pitched on a level with his. “Lead the way.”
Johnny took her bike without further comment and pushed it to where the Bel Air was parked at the curb. He popped the trunk, slid her bike in, and closed it without a word. Maggie didn’t wait for him to open her door but, like most girls of her generation, opened it herself and slid inside. For a moment, she was alone in the interior of the car. She breathed in deeply, letting his scent wash over her. She thought of the blonde girl with big breasts she’d seen kissing him the last time she’d sat in Johnny’s car. She wondered if she would ever be able to ride in his car without seeing that kiss. It must have been some kiss to be stamped on the interior like it was.
“You okay?” Johnny asked as he slid in beside her and turned the key.
“I’m definitely not the first girl that’s ridden in this car.”
“Huh?”
“I just saw....I mean...never mind.”
Her voice was sharp, discouraging a follow-up question, and they rode in silence for several minutes.
Johnny flipped on the radio and a song with a driving beat filled the car and shook the dash. He flipped it off almost immediately. Maggie reached out and turned the radio back on, turning the knob until she found what she was looking for.
“There. Is that better?” Elvis begged her to not be cruel, and Johnny visibly relaxed.
"I feel like I haven’t eaten a cheeseburger and a shake for years…” Johnny’s voice trailed off. Maggie giggled and then thought how inappropriate laughing was. None of this was funny in the slightest. But when she looked at Johnny, amazingly enough, he smiled with her, his dimples making their first appearance since Purgatory. Maggie gasped at the jolt of electricity that smile shot straight through her belly. She was in such trouble!
They went to Shimmies again, but this time Johnny pulled into the long line at the drive thru, and Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. She was too tired for drama, and Shimmies was full of teen angst. Maggie took one look at the menu board and knew what she wanted. She always got the same thing. Johnny was still reading the menu, a frown of disbelief between his brows. She guessed that the prices were a tad bit higher than he was used to. Oh well, she’d warned him, hadn’t she?
“Do you need me to buy?” She asked softly. Johnny shot her a look that would have caused her to shrivel up and die had she not grown a rather thick skin over the years. Still, she cringed a little bit. He clearly took her offer as an insult.
“I’ve got plenty of money... but it had better be a darn good burger. The last burger I ate cost fifteen cents.”
“Fifteen?” Maggie squeaked.
Johnny tossed his heads toward the window at the gas station they could see across the road. The fuel prices were displayed on a large marquee. “A gallon of gas used to cost me a quarter. I can’t believe people are still driving cars at these prices.” He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. “You already know what you want?” He changed the subject abruptly.
“I always get the same thing.”
“Not too adventurous, huh?
“Life is disappointing enough without having to take chances on your food. I always go with the sure thing.”
A waitress skated up to Johnny’s window and crouched down so she could see into the car, her pad and paper poised and her eyes drifting over Johnny curiously. Whenever it got really busy, Shimmies sent a girl out to the drive thru on skates to take orders. It gave the place a car hop kind of feel.
“Ready guys?” The waitress popped her gum.
Johnny tipped his head at Maggie and she rattled off her standard cheeseburger, french fry, chocolate shake request.
“Make that two of the same,” Johnny added, his eyes lingering briefly on the girl’s very short shorts, and then looking away quickly. The girl didn’t miss the look, and skated away with a little extra swing in her hips. She even glanced over her shoulder to see if he was watching her. Maggie was pleased to note that he wasn’t.
“None of the girls wear enough clothes,” Johnny murmured, almost to himself.
Maggie raised her eyebrows. “And you don’t like that?”
“Surprisingly enough, no, I don’t.” Johnny sat back in his seat and looked around, his face contemplative. “Some of the mystery is lost if it’s all on display. Half the fun of getting a present is unwrapping it. If you already know what’s inside, why bother?”
They ended up eating their dinner at the little park located about a block off Main Street. Johnny said the park had been there for as long as he could remember. The playground equipment had been updated, and he claimed the trees were much larger than they used to be. He stood beneath one giant oak and tipped his head back, as if trying to count the highest leaves. The sun had set, and the evening shadows merged and touched; the gray of twilight lay softly all around them. They ate in reflective silence, before Johnny spoke up randomly.
"So you always get the same thing?"
"What?"
"You said life was disappointing enough without having to take chances on your food. You said you always go with the sure thing."
Maggie shrugged, dipping a fry into her shake. "When I find something I like I tend to stick with it. Less risk that way, I guess."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense.”
Maggie shrugged, using nonchalance and bravado to cover what had been a very unsettled life.
“Your mom and dad aren't around?"
“They died when I was ten. I've spent the last few years living in different homes. It hasn't been too bad."
Johnny looked at her gravely, his mouth drawn into a long line. He didn't challenge her.
"I got to come live with Irene after Roger died. He didn't want her to take me in. I think she would have anyway, but worried that he would make my life miserable...more miserable than not having a home at all.”
"Roger Carlton messed up both of our lives," he bit out.
"Roger Carlton messed with many lives," Maggie retorted, her thoughts on Irene.
"It seems kind of unfair that you know so much about me but I don't know anything about you," Johnny remarked, changing the subject. Maggie was glad. They had had the conversation about Roger before, whether Johnny could remember it or not.
Maggie ducked her head. She didn't tell him that once he had known everything about her. "You probably know more than you think."
"Well, I know you like to dance."
Maggie nodded and held up a finger. One thing.
"And you're good at it."
Maggie smiled, shrug
ging, but she lifted another finger. Two things.
"Oh, please. You know damn well you're amazing. You don't think I watched you the other night? The whole place was glued to your every move," he paused. "I was egging you on, you know. I wanted you to go out there. I wanted to see you..."
"You did not!' Maggie interrupted hotly. "You didn't think I could. You think I'm unattractive and boring.”
"Keep tellin' yourself that, Maggie, and I'll keep telling myself that, and we'll both be happier in the long run."
Maggie jumped to her feet, abandoning her dinner and the boy who seemed intent on hurting her feelings, for the safety of the swings. She had barely gained any height, when strong hands gripped her waist as she descended and pushed her skyward once more. Johnny continued to push her higher and higher as Maggie closed her eyes and let the wind she'd created dance in her hair and lift her into the night. After a while, Johnny stopped pushing, and Maggie reluctantly slowed, looking around to find him.
He sat on the swing to the right of her, but he wasn't swinging. He sat with his long legs spread before him, his arms bent and hanging loosely from the chains.
"I wasn't a sure thing," he commented as she slowed to a stop.
Maggie tried to make out his expression in the darkness that had deepened while she had swung.
"No,....I guess not," Maggie agreed. "You were a risk."
"And you're not a risk taker."
"It wasn't a conscious choice, really. In some ways we needed each other. But I didn't fall in love with you because I needed you."
"No?" Johnny's voice was soft.
"No. I fell in love with you because you were good and brave, and you laughed at my jokes, and you made me feel beautiful, and for a million other reasons. It would have been easier to pretend I couldn't see you. But I've never been able to pretend with you. Maybe that's what loving someone does; it strips us of our defenses. I've spent the last eight years pretending I'm fine. I can't seem to pretend anymore." Maggie began to swing again, but Johnny stood and held the chains, hindering her efforts. He stood behind her so Maggie couldn't see his face as he began to speak.
"Today, I rode down Main Street and all over the town, up and down streets that look almost nothing like the Honeyville I remember. The house I lived in isn’t even standing anymore. There’s a big apartment building there. I went to your house today, to Irene’s house. I just parked my car and sat. It’s one of the only places that still looks the same. Older, a little worn-out....but still here. Your aunt saw me. I think I scared her to death. She just stood there, staring at me. I don’t know who was more surprised. Yesterday, she was a beautiful girl. She looked a lot like you.” Maggie swung her head around to meet his gaze. He met her eyes and then looked away again, resuming his watch of the moon.
“Yeah, you’re beautiful. And you damn well know it. I’d have to be blind not to see it. Even Irene couldn’t hold a candle to you.” Maggie sat in stunned silence, all other thoughts fleeing from her girlish brain with his stunning admission.
“Yesterday she was a beautiful girl,” he repeated, “and today she’s an old woman.” His voice was loud in the quiet, and harsh, and Maggie flinched at his cold pronouncement.
“Irene walked out to the car, and I got out. She just looked at me. She thanked me for saving you. Her hands and her voice shook. I didn’t know what to say. I can’t remember saving you, so it seems wrong to take any credit for it.”
Maggie’s heart grieved for what he had lost, and what she’d lost as well. He had loved her. He had wrapped her in his arms in a fiery inferno. And he couldn’t remember.
“She was afraid of me. And I don’t blame her.” Johnny looked at her then, defiance and sorrow warring across his handsome face. “I’m afraid too. All my life, when things got hard, I just pushed back, worked a little harder, got mad, used my fists, whatever. But this is something else. If it was just the sadness, or the guilt, or missing my momma and Billy and wishing I could see them again, I think I could learn to live with that. But the fear, the not knowing who I am or what I am -- I don’t know how to fight it.”
Hardly daring to breath, Maggie stood and turned to face him. The swing still hung between them, but she leaned through it and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head lightly on his shoulder. Johnny was about as stiff and welcoming as a wooden plank, but she didn’t move or release him. After a moment she felt the tension in his shoulders lessen, and he sighed, the sound broken and regretful. His arms rose and encircled her. When he spoke again, his voice was almost tender.
“That morning in the gym, when I was watching you dance -- for a minute it all felt so familiar, and I could see how loving you might be. I understood how I could have fallen for you.”
Maggie held her breath, burying her face in his shoulder, wishing she could just stop time for a moment, wondering how loving someone could hurt so much. She could feel the hesitation in him and knew he had more to say.
“But none of this feels real. I just want to wake up and have it all be over. If this were 1958, and I was just a guy and you were my girl, it would be different...”
Maggie started, pulling away from him with a gasp. Her head spun, as if time had turned over. He had said the very same words to her the night of the Winter Ball, when it had been just the two of them, dancing to songs nobody ever danced to anymore.
“Maggie?” Johnny stopped mid-sentence when she pulled away, and he looked down at her, questioning. The moon played across one side of his face and left the right side in shadows, making him look more ghostly than he ever did when he’d haunted Honeyville High.
“If I were just a guy, and you were my girl, I would never let you go,” Maggie repeated softly. “You’ve said those words to me before. But it’s never going to happen, is it? You’re not just any guy, and I will never be your girl.”
Johnny stared down at her for several long seconds. She stared back, and above them the wind moaned mournfully through the trees. The sound echoed the longing in Maggie's heart.
“I just want to go home, Maggie,” Johnny’s voice was barely louder than the wind. “I just want to go home.”
~9~
A Time to Weep
It was much, much later when Maggie was awakened by the sounds of bumping and dragging above her. Her room was just a short flight of stairs below the large attic filled with decades of Honeycutt memorabilia. She lay in bed, listening, still too sleepy to be frightened, yet unable to ignore the fact that something or someone was in the attic. When she had dragged herself in from Johnny’s car earlier that night, she had avoided Irene because she didn’t want to share her pain and knew she couldn’t hide it. She had avoided even her own reflection because she knew it was written all over her face. She had crawled into her bed, and Irene had stuck her head in after a while. Irene hadn’t said anything, and Maggie had feigned sleep. Irene had stared for several long moments and then pulled the door shut again, sighing a little as she did.
Now, several hours later, Maggie was pulled from sweet oblivion and felt resentful of the boogie man who had disturbed what little peace she had left. Tossing off the blankets, she grumbled to her bedroom door and wobbled up the stairs to the attic. The stairway was lit, and Maggie could see that the lights in the attic were also blazing.
“Aunt Irene?” Maggie rubbed her bleary eyes and looked at the disorder around her. Just a few months ago she’d organized every inch of the space. Now it was a disaster. Boxes were over turned and dresses pulled out of protective zippered linings. A few hats had been tossed helter skelter, and in the corner, with tears streaming down her face, Irene Honeycutt sat on a faded love seat in a gauzy peach formal, hair done and make-up on. Thoughts of Dickens’ Miss Havisham from freshman year English rose unbidden in Maggie’s head, and she shuddered a bit at the comparison.
The dress was loose at the bust; Irene’s frail shoulders and shrunken chest didn’t fill it out as well as her younger self. The waist was pulled tight, where age had thickened her
youthful form, but she had managed to zip it, even still. She looked terribly uncomfortable.
“Irene?” Maggie said again, trying not to overreact at finding the bride of Frankenstein crying in her attic in the middle of the night.
“Hello, dear,” Irene burbled, attempting cheeriness and normalcy, and failing miserably. “I was just wondering if I could fit into this old thing...I was up here looking for Lizzie’s record player. I don’t know what I’ve done with it.”
“You’re all dolled up. Make up and hair at three a.m., Auntie?” Maggie sat down next to Irene on the dusty love seat and reached out to finger the skirt of the peach confection.
“Go ahead, say it, I’m a silly old woman!” Irene tried to smile, but her words ended in a sob, and she mopped at her eyes with an old flannel doll blanket.
Maggie didn’t respond to that. Irene wasn’t silly. She was sad and obviously troubled about something. Maggie wondered if it had anything to do with seeing Johnny Kinross back from the grave, sitting in all his youthful glory in front of her house earlier in the day.
“This is beautiful. Is it the dress you wore to the prom? I think I recognize it from one of the pictures in Roger’s scrapbook.”
“It’s funny...I remember wearing red to the prom. I came up here looking for the dress. I know I have a red dress.”
“So you didn’t come up here looking for the record player?” Maggie poked at her and tried not to smile.
Irene shot her a look that indicated she thought Maggie rude for pointing out her lie. Her tears stopped falling, though, and she smacked Maggie lightly on the arm.
“Smarty pants!” Irene huffed, and Maggie snickered, making Irene smile a little too.
“I remember this dress now. I really am getting old. I did wear this. I had purchased the red dress, but at the last moment I got cold feet. Lizzie, my little sister, informed me that no one would be wearing red and I would feel silly. She was right. It was the only time I ever took fashion advice from a ten-year-old. The funny thing was another girl at the prom was wearing a red dress just like it. I’d forgotten all about her. She stood out like a sore thumb, but she looked wonderful. Johnny danced with her...” Irene’s eyes filled with tears once more, and she stopped talking and suddenly stood. “That dress is here somewhere.”