Hot Summer Nights (Lucas Brothers)

“Maggie,” I whisper, holding her so close that I know my grip is too harsh, almost bruising in force, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m holding onto her for dear life.

“I went to her door, but she seemed to be sleeping, Bryant. She looked so peaceful,” she says, and that’s when my Maggie, who I’ve always thought was tough as nails, breaks. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was going to check on her after I finished my homework. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she cries, the words so steeped in grief that they mark me.

I don’t need her to finish the story. I know what happens next. I came home early the next morning. I drove all night and made it home just as the sun was beginning to rise over the hills. We lived in an apartment over Mom and Dad’s garage—that was just one mistake of many I made with Maggie.

Apparently, I’ve made even more than I knew.

I found Maggie asleep on the couch with her text book on the floor beside her, lying down with the pages crushed because it had fallen to the floor. I remember taking the time to close the book. Then, I went to check on our daughter. That’s when I found her…

What happened next is a blur of calls, tears, and sirens. Right now, one thing sticks out that I wish like hell that I could take back.

“Maggie why didn’t you check on our baby. Why didn’t you check on her?”

As I said the words to her, I didn’t mean for it to feel as if I was blaming her. I was lost in the shock and the pain. Now, I see it in such a different light, and I want to kick my own ass over and over…

At this moment, however, I don’t know what to say or do, so I just hold her close, murmuring in her ear that it’s going to be alright.

I don’t know how I will deliver on that promise, but I’m going to try.

32

Maggie

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Bryant whispers so softly that I have to strain to hear him.

I take the warm coffee mug from him and try to drum up a smile for him. I don’t think I succeed. I feel so embarrassed. I don’t know how to act or what to say. I think I’m still in shock. In all of the scenarios that I imagined would happen when I told Bryant the truth, him carrying me to bed and holding me while I cried wasn’t it.

I swallow down the steaming liquid thankfully, unsure of what to say. My eyes close as Bryant kisses the top of my head. He’s been doing that a lot. He did it while he held me and let me cry. I apparently dozed off because when I woke up, he was dressed in pajama bottoms and kissing my head again, while his fingers drew imaginary lines on my arm. Even the damn cat was being nice to me and laid on my feet while I napped.

Because I feel hopelessly awkward and not sure of what to say, I sit in silence as I watch Bryant sweep up the glass from a broken lamp. He unhooked the head board and cleaned the bed off earlier. I didn’t help. I wasn’t sure what to do. So, I watched. When he sweeps the last of the debris into the dust pan, he looks up at me, his face full of concern and sadness.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, and again, his concern seems to wrap around me.

“I’m feeling a little lost,” I admit.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll find you again.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. You should hate me,” I murmur.

“The only person I’m hating in this room is myself, Maggie. I hate that I made you go through all of this alone and I wish you could grasp how horrible I feel that I helped add to your guilt.”

“Bryant, stop. You lost Brylee, too,” I tell him, because the last thing I want him to feel is guilt.

“I left you to face everything while I went on with my life, Maggie. You were struggling being a full-time mother and going to school while I went to school full time in another state, Maggie. We had a baby, and basically, I didn’t let it change any of my plans. I left you alone, trying to do it all.”

“You had a scholarship, and you had a career in mind. I had no idea what I wanted to do at the time. I was just taking basics and trying to figure things out,” I remind him.

“I was a selfish asshole—your mother was right.”

“We were young,” I tell him with a shrug. I can’t deny a lot, because most of the time during our short marriage I felt like a forgotten part of his life.