Maybe Now (Maybe 2)

I don’t want to think I’d be like that. “More reason to let them know how much we appreciate them.”

Warren kicks at a leaf on Maggie’s mattress and then bends to pick it up. “I let Bridgette know how much I appreciate her all night last night.” He grins, and I take that as my cue to head back down to the U-Haul.

On my way down the stairs, I receive a text. I look at my phone and pause on the steps when I see that it’s from Sydney. It’s a group text with Warren and me.

Sydney: At the DQ drive-thru down the road. Anyone want a Blizzard?

Warren: Does a one-legged dog swim in a circle? I’ll take a Reese’s.

Ridge: M&M please.

I look down at the U-Haul in the parking lot and watch Maggie walk up the ramp and disappear inside of it. This is one of the weird moments we’re going to have to learn to navigate. I need to remind Sydney that Maggie is here and she might want one. But it feels weird to remind Sydney to include her. It’s probably not as weird as anything else that’s happened in the last two weeks of us dating. And part of me struggles with what to say to Maggie and whether I should even offer her ice cream, knowing she isn’t supposed to have a lot of sugar. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up her health right now. I’m trying to keep my distance with the hope that she’s stepping up and taking control on her own.

Right in the middle of my internal struggle, Maggie sends a text through to the group.

Maggie: I’ll take a large Diet Dr. Pepper. Thanks!

I didn’t even realize Sydney included her in the group text. But of course, she did. Every time any of this starts to feel awkward, Sydney somehow alleviates that awkwardness before it’s even able to fully set in.

I walk to the U-Haul, and Maggie is all the way inside of it, digging in her top dresser drawer. She’s throwing stuff on top of the dresser, in search of something. She finds the shirt that she’s looking for and stuffs it in a bag. She looks up and sees me standing at the opening of the U-Haul.

“Can you grab this suitcase and bring it up?”

I nod and she signs, “Thank you,” then walks out of the U-Haul and heads toward the stairs to the apartment. I walk over to the dresser to grab the suitcase from on top of it, but I pause when I see a sheet of paper on the floor of the U-Haul. I bend to pick it up. I don’t want to be invasive, so I set it on top of the dresser, but it’s unfolded and I can see that it’s a list. At the top, it says, Things I Want To Do, but the title next to it is scratched out and written over. I pick it up, even though I probably shouldn’t.

There are three out of the nine things on the list scratched out: skydive, drive a racecar, and have a one-night stand.

I know she went skydiving, but when did she race a car? And when did she have a…

Never mind. Not my business.

I read the rest of the items on the list, remembering how she used to talk about some of these things to me. I always hated that she had so many things she was so adamant about doing, because I always felt like I had to be the voice of reason and it would put her in a bad mood.

I lean against the dresser, staring down at it. We planned on a trip to Europe once. It was right after I finished my second year in college, about four years ago. I was terrified for her to go because even being in such closed quarters on an international flight for ten hours was enough to put her health at risk. Not to mention the change in oxygen levels and atmosphere and being in a touristy area and in a country with hospitals that aren’t familiar with her medical history. I tried so hard to talk her out of it, but she got her way because I honestly couldn’t blame her for wanting to see the world. And I didn’t want to be that one thing that was holding her back.

But in the end, it wasn’t me who held her back from actually going. It was a lung infection she contracted that landed her in the hospital for seventeen days. It was the sickest I’d ever seen her, and the entire time she was in the hospital, I couldn’t help but feel nothing but relief that she hadn’t come down with the illness in Europe.

After that, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of an international trip. Maybe I should have. I realize that now, after knowing how much she resented my caution. And honestly, I don’t blame her. Her life is not my life, and even though my only goal was to give her life more length, all she’s ever wanted is a life with more substance.

I can see movement out of the corner of my eye, so I turn and look up, just as Sydney makes her way up the ramp to the U-Haul with two Blizzards in her hands. She’s wearing one of my Sounds of Cedar T-shirts, and it’s hanging off her shoulder because it’s too big for her. If I had my way, she’d wear one of my shirts every day for the rest of our lives. I love this effortless look on her.

She smiles and hands me one of the Blizzards. She pulls the spoon out of hers and licks ice cream from it, then closes her mouth over the spoon.

I grin. “I think I like yours better, and I don’t even know what flavor you got.”

She smiles and stands on her tiptoes, kissing me briefly on the lips. “Oreo,” she says. She pokes at her ice cream with her spoon and nods her head toward the sheet of paper I’m still holding. “What’s that?”

I look down at the list, wondering if it’s my place to even share something like this with her since it isn’t mine. “Maggie’s bucket list. It was on the floor.” I set it down on the dresser and grab the suitcase. “Thank you for the ice cream.” I kiss her on the cheek and make my way out of the U-Haul. When I turn around to see if she’s following me, she isn’t.

She’s picking up the sheet of paper.

When I was eight years old, we went on a road trip to California. My father stopped at Carlsbad Caverns National Park just in time for the bat flight. I was scared to death and hated every second of it.

When I was eleven, we spent two weeks on a train tour of Europe. We saw the Eiffel Tower, we went to Rome, we visited London. I have the picture of my mother and me on my refrigerator that my father took of us in front of Big Ben.

I’ve been to Vegas once with Tori. We went for my twenty-first birthday and stayed one night because we couldn’t afford more than that, and Hunter was upset that I was gone on my birthday.

I’ve done several things that are on Maggie’s bucket list, and while I didn’t take the trips for granted, I certainly don’t think I appreciated them enough. I’ve never thought about writing a bucket list or what would even be on it if I did. I don’t plan that far ahead.

That’s just the thing, though. Neither does Maggie. But far ahead for her and far ahead for me have two completely different meanings.

I set my Blizzard on top of the dresser and stare at number seven on the list. Bungee jump.

I’ve never been bungee jumping. I can’t say that it would have been a bucket list item for me, but the fact that it’s a bucket list item for Maggie and she asked me to join her gives the entire sentiment a whole new meaning.

I fold the list and grab my ice cream, then make my way out of the U-Haul and up to Ridge’s apartment. Ridge is in the kitchen with Warren. They’re leaning against the counter, finishing their ice cream. Bridgette is probably taking a shower because she smelled like chicken wings. I walk to Maggie’s bedroom, and she’s kneeling in front of her suitcase, rifling through it. She looks up to see me standing in the doorway.

“Can I come in?”

She nods, so I walk in and sit on her mattress. I set my cup on the floor next to the mattress and pick up her list. “Found this,” I say, holding it up for her to see. She’s just a few feet away, so she reaches over and grabs it, then glances down at it. She makes a face like it’s as useless as trash and then tosses it on the bed.

“I was a big dreamer.” She gives her full attention back to her suitcase.

“This might make you think less of me,” I say. “But I’ve been to Paris, and I probably shouldn’t admit this, but the Eiffel Tower looks just like a really big transmission tower. It’s kind of underwhelming.”

Maggie laughs.

“Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t admit that to anyone else.” She folds the top of her suitcase shut and then moves to the bed, lying down on her stomach. She grabs the list and pulls it in front of her. “I crossed off three of these in one day.”

I remember the day she went skydiving because it wasn’t that long ago. Which means…the one-night stand wasn’t that long ago, either. I’m curious about it, but I’m not sure we’re at a point where I want to ask about her sex life.

“Most of the other ones I wrote down are a little far-fetched. I get sick too easily and too often to travel internationally.”

I look at the Vegas one. “Why would you want to lose five grand instead of win five grand?”

She rolls onto her back and looks up at me. “If I had five grand to lose, it means I’d be rich. Being rich is an inadvertent item on my bucket list.”