Maybe Now (Maybe 2)

She’s here to apologize? Wow. This isn’t what I was expecting, because she’s right. It’s very hard for her to apologize. It’s one of the things that are so different about Maggie and Sydney; it’s difficult getting used to. Sydney is quick to forgive and quick to ask for forgiveness, whereas with Maggie, everything needs a period of adjustment.

Like right now. She takes an entire minute to adjust to what she’s about to say before she actually says it.

“You told me once that when you wore hearing aids, they were a constant reminder that you couldn’t hear. And that when you didn’t wear them, you didn’t even think about it,” she signs. “That’s how I’ve always felt about my illness, Ridge. About doctors and hospitals and medications and my vest. It’s all a constant reminder that I have this illness, but when I’m able to avoid those things, I don’t even think about it. And it’s nice, being able to have those moments of normalcy sometimes. And being with you in the beginning was part of my cherished moments of normalcy. We had just begun dating, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. But the longer we were together, you started to notice that I would skip treatments or doctors’ visits in favor of being with you.”

She pauses a moment, like what she’s trying to say is taking a huge amount of courage. And it is. So, I wait patiently without interrupting like I promised her I would.

“After a while, you started to worry about me,” she says. “You took over my schedule to make sure I was on time to every appointment. You texted me several times a day to tell me it was time for my treatments. I even caught you counting my pills once so you could be positive I was taking them like I was supposed to. And I know that every single one of those things was for my benefit, because you loved me. But I started lumping you in with all the things I wanted to avoid, like doctor’s appointments and breathing treatments.” She looks me in the eyes. “You became one of the constant reminders that I was living with this illness. And I didn’t know how to deal with that.”

A tear falls out of her eye and she swipes it away with her sleeve.

“I know I sometimes didn’t show it, but I did appreciate you. I do appreciate you. So much. It’s just so confusing for me because I also resented you, but my resentment had everything to do with me and nothing at all to do with you. I know that everything you did for me is because you wanted the best for me. I know that you loved me. The things I said to you the other day came from a part of me that I’m not proud of. And…” Her lips are quivering, and tears are beginning to fall down her cheeks in pairs. “I’m sorry, Ridge. I really am. For everything.”

I blow out a quick, shaky breath.

I need out of this chair.

I stand up and walk to the kitchen and grab her a napkin, then take it back to her. But I can’t sit down. I wasn’t expecting this, and I don’t even know how to respond to her. Sometimes I don’t say the right things to her and it upsets her. She’s already upset enough. I put my hands on the back of my neck and pace the living room a couple of times. I come to a pause when I feel my phone vibrate. I grab it.

Sydney: Thanks for letting me know. Be patient with her, Ridge. I’m sure it took a lot of courage for her to show up there.

I stare at Sydney’s text and shake my head, wondering how in the hell she’s more understanding of my own situation than even I am. I honestly don’t know why she’s majoring in music. Her real talent is psychology.

I slide the phone back into my pocket and look over at Maggie, who is still sitting at the table, dabbing at her tearful eyes. This had to be hard for her. Sydney is right. Being here and then saying everything she just said has to be taking a huge amount of courage.

I walk back to my seat, and I reach across the table and take her hand. I hold it between both of mine. “I’m sorry, too,” I say, squeezing her hand so that she can feel the sincerity in that statement. “I should have been more of a boyfriend to you and less of a…dictator.”

My word choice makes her laugh through her tears. She shakes her head. “You weren’t a dictator,” she signs. “Maybe more of a mild authoritarian.”

I laugh with her. Which is something I never thought would happen again after leaving her house Saturday morning.

Maggie’s head swings in the other direction, so I look up to see Bridgette. She’s leaving for work, but pauses when she sees Maggie in our living room, sitting next to me at the table. She glances at Maggie for a moment, then at me. Her eyes narrow.

“Dick.”

She marches to the front door, and I’m pretty sure she probably slams it when she leaves. I look back at Maggie, and she’s staring at the door. “What was that all about?”

I shrug. “She’s become oddly protective of Sydney now. It’s been…interesting.”

Maggie arches a brow. “Maybe you should text Sydney and let her know I’m here. Before Bridgette does.”

I smile. “I already did.”

Maggie nods knowingly. “Of course you did,” she signs. She’s smiling now, and the tears are no longer invading her eyes. She takes another sip of water and then leans back in her chair. “So. Is Sydney the one?”

I don’t respond for a moment, because it’s odd. I don’t want Maggie thinking she lacked anything, but it’s simply different with Sydney. It’s more. It’s deeper and better, and I crave it like I’ve never craved anything, but how do I express that without being insensitive to what Maggie and I had? I nod, slowly, and sign, “She is definitely the last one.”

Maggie nods, and a sadness enters her eyes. I hate it. But I can’t do anything to change it. Things are how they’re supposed to be now, even if Maggie might sometimes feel regret for that.

“I wish life came with a handbook,” she says. “Seeing what you and Sydney have makes me realize what an idiot I am for pushing away a really great guy. I’m almost positive I ruined that chance for good.”

I shift in my seat with those words. I don’t even know what to say. Did she think coming here would open up an opportunity to get back together with me? If so, I’ve been treating this entire conversation as something it isn’t. “Maggie. I’m not—we’re not—ever getting back together.”

Maggie’s eyes narrow, and she gives me one of the looks she used to give me when I was being an idiot. “I’m not talking about you, Ridge.” She laughs. “I’m referring to my hot doctor-slash-skydiving instructor.”

I tilt my head, feeling both relieved and embarrassed. “Oh. Well. That was awkward.”

She starts to laugh again. She swings a finger back and forth between

us. “You thought… When I said great guy… You immediately thought of yourself?” She’s laughing even harder now. I’m trying not to crack a smile, but I can’t help it. I love that she’s laughing, and I love even more that she’s talking about someone else.

This is good.

Maggie stands up. “Will Warren be here Saturday?”

I nod and stand as well. “Yeah, he should be. Why?”

“I want us all to sit down together and talk. I feel like we need to map out a plan going forward.”

“Yeah. Of course. I’d love it if we could do that. Do you mind if Sydney comes?”

Maggie puts on her jacket. “She already has it on her schedule,” Maggie says, winking at me.

Okay, now I’m confused. “You’ve talked to Sydney?”

Maggie nods. “For some reason, she felt like she owed me an apology. And…I owed her one. We had a good chat.” Maggie walks toward the door, but pauses before opening it. “She’s very…diplomatic.”

I nod, but I’m still confused about when they had this chat. Or why I didn’t know about it. “Yeah,” I say. “She is definitely diplomatic.”

Maggie opens the door. “Don’t let Bridgette ruin her,” she says. “See you Saturday.”

“See you Saturday.” I hold the door open for her. “And Maggie. I’m really sorry about your grandfather.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

I watch as she walks down the stairs to her car. Once she pulls away, I don’t close my door. I rush to my counter and grab my keys, then slip on my shoes.

I drive straight to the library.

•••

I spot her in the back corner of the library. She’s next to a cart, holding a marker in her hand, crossing things out on a list as she restocks the shelves from her library cart. Her back is to me, so I watch her for an entire minute as she works. The place is mostly empty, so I don’t feel like anyone will notice that I’m staring at her. I just can’t understand when or how she and Maggie would have had a conversation. Or why. I pull out my phone and I text her.