~8~
A Time to Mourn
Two days later, Johnny was waiting for Maggie when she exited the school. She was tired and hungry; lunch had been hours ago, and her afternoon janitorial duties had taken longer than usual. Her feet were sore, her back was stiff, and her glasses had been giving her a headache since the morning of the ghostly promenade in the school gymnasium. Maybe it was because she had been too nervous to take them off, even when she slept; they seemed to keep her in the present. She slipped them off now and rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily, closing her smarting eyes to the blushing pink of the sunset.
“Do you need a ride?” he said, his voice coming out of nowhere.
Maggie’s heart leaped in traitorous joy at the familiar voice and then plummeted almost as quickly when reminded of the unrequited nature of her feelings. Her eyes snapped open and her head shot up to see him leaning against the pole she’d chained her bike to almost ten hours earlier. He looked like an ad from a fashion magazine, so nonchalant and carelessly good looking against the backdrop of the setting sun.
“How did you know where to find me?” she stuttered out ungraciously, slipping her glasses reluctantly back on her nose. She preferred the days when she could only see him without her glasses.
He shrugged noncommittally, not breaking eye contact, but not answering her question. “Do you need a ride?” He said again.
“No, actually.”
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
I don’t need a ride. That’s my bike.” Maggie pointed to the bike at his feet. He didn’t look down at the bike, which made Maggie think he was aware all along that it was hers.
“It’ll fit in my trunk.”
“No, thank you. I’ll ride it home. It’s a big bike.”
“It’s a big trunk.”
Maggie stared at him, confused by his sudden appearance and his even more sudden interest in spending time in her company.
“Why?”
“It was made that way. Most of the cars made in the ‘50’s had decent sized trunks.”
“Ha ha, very funny. That’s not what I meant and you know it. Why do you want to take me home?” Maggie almost smiled at his dry attempt at humor. But she didn’t. It still hurt too much to look at him, to be near him, and her smile stayed dormant.
“I want to talk to you.”
“I had the very distinct impression the last time we were together that I made you angry. Plus, I’m thinking your driver’s license is long expired. You shouldn’t be driving.”
“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.