Page 13 of Another Last Call
I shook my head and braced myself as my heart tugged. “My dad died a few months ago. So…”
“Fuck.” Her face fell. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry. How are you doing?”
I put on the plastic smile I wore whenever I had to talk about him. “I’m okay. Thank you.”
She was holding a flannel jacket and shrugged it on. “Want to sit by the lake for a while? I’m done for the night and we have ten years of catching up to do.”
There was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to do exactly that. I clicked the lock on my key fob and crossed the street with Maggie, making our way to a bench on the beach.
The night melted away as we talked. Somehow, the words came easily with her: what it had been like in university, how hard it had been to get my business degree, what it was like working as a contractor. I told her how I’d intended to start my own business and why I hadn’t yet. All the things I’d thought, but hadn’t said out loud to… well, anyone.
“The cabin is worth a lot?” she asked when I told her why I wanted to sell it.
“The land is,” I said. “The cabin itself, not so much. I mean, people who come here aren’t looking to rough it, you know? But once I’m done…”
“And you said your mom moved to England?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Without you?”
I smiled. “I didn’t want to go.”
“Why did she?”
“She’s from there. I think once Dad died, she didn’t want to be around things that reminded her of him.” That familiar tugging in my heart happened. “I know I haven’t wanted to.”
“Are you really okay?” Maggie’s bluntness hadn’t changed since we were kids, either.
“As okay as I can be,” I admitted. “I wasn’t ready for it, even though we knew it was coming. And now that it’s happened, I’m not ready to go back to how life was before he got sick.”
I paused. I hadn’t really told anyone how I was feeling about my dad’s death, yet there I was spilling it all to her.
“I’m sure he would have wanted me to pick up and move on, but that’s a lot easier said than done.”
She nodded. “It’s rough. I’m sorry.”
We were quiet for a moment, staring at the gentle lapping of waves on the lake. All that time spent apart didn’t seem to matter. The silence between us was comfortable, not awkward.
“I can’t believe you’ve been in town almost two weeks and haven’t come to see me before tonight,” she said, breaking the silence.
“I didn’t know you were still here.” I shifted on the bench, facing her. “I’ve been yammering about myself all night. What’s going on with you?”
She didn’t answer right away. “Hardly anything.”
“Come on, something must have happened in the last ten years.”
Maggie’s smile had faded, her eyes reflecting a forlorn sadness. “Not much, really. Last I saw you, I was working at the bar part time. Now I work at the bar full time.”
“You play music there, though.”
“Sometimes. If Mom doesn’t need me to wait tables.”
“Any boyfriends?” I teased.
I expected her to laugh, or blush, or even smile, but Maggie just shook her head, her face serious. “Nothing worth writing home about.”
“What about everyone else? Still in touch with any of the old crew?”
