Maggie tried to make out his expression in the darkness that had deepened while she had swung.
"No,....I guess not," Maggie agreed. "You were a risk."
"And you're not a risk taker."
"It wasn't a conscious choice, really. In some ways we needed each other. But I didn't fall in love with you because I needed you."
"No?" Johnny's voice was soft.
"No. I fell in love with you because you were good and brave, and you laughed at my jokes, and you made me feel beautiful, and for a million other reasons. It would have been easier to pretend I couldn't see you. But I've never been able to pretend with you. Maybe that's what loving someone does; it strips us of our defenses. I've spent the last eight years pretending I'm fine. I can't seem to pretend anymore." Maggie began to swing again, but Johnny stood and held the chains, hindering her efforts. He stood behind her so Maggie couldn't see his face as he began to speak.
"Today, I rode down Main Street and all over the town, up and down streets that look almost nothing like the Honeyville I remember. The house I lived in isn’t even standing anymore. There’s a big apartment building there. I went to your house today, to Irene’s house. I just parked my car and sat. It’s one of the only places that still looks the same. Older, a little worn-out....but still here. Your aunt saw me. I think I scared her to death. She just stood there, staring at me. I don’t know who was more surprised. Yesterday, she was a beautiful girl. She looked a lot like you.” Maggie swung her head around to meet his gaze. He met her eyes and then looked away again, resuming his watch of the moon.
“Yeah, you’re beautiful. And you damn well know it. I’d have to be blind not to see it. Even Irene couldn’t hold a candle to you.” Maggie sat in stunned silence, all other thoughts fleeing from her girlish brain with his stunning admission.
“Yesterday she was a beautiful girl,” he repeated, “and today she’s an old woman.” His voice was loud in the quiet, and harsh, and Maggie flinched at his cold pronouncement.
“Irene walked out to the car, and I got out. She just looked at me. She thanked me for saving you. Her hands and her voice shook. I didn’t know what to say. I can’t remember saving you, so it seems wrong to take any credit for it.”
Maggie’s heart grieved for what he had lost, and what she’d lost as well. He had loved her. He had wrapped her in his arms in a fiery inferno. And he couldn’t remember.
“She was afraid of me. And I don’t blame her.” Johnny looked at her then, defiance and sorrow warring across his handsome face. “I’m afraid too. All my life, when things got hard, I just pushed back, worked a little harder, got mad, used my fists, whatever. But this is something else. If it was just the sadness, or the guilt, or missing my momma and Billy and wishing I could see them again, I think I could learn to live with that. But the fear, the not knowing who I am or what I am -- I don’t know how to fight it.”
Hardly daring to breath, Maggie stood and turned to face him. The swing still hung between them, but she leaned through it and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head lightly on his shoulder. Johnny was about as stiff and welcoming as a wooden plank, but she didn’t move or release him. After a moment she felt the tension in his shoulders lessen, and he sighed, the sound broken and regretful. His arms rose and encircled her. When he spoke again, his voice was almost tender.
“That morning in the gym, when I was watching you dance -- for a minute it all felt so familiar, and I could see how loving you might be. I understood how I could have fallen for you.”
Maggie held her breath, burying her face in his shoulder, wishing she could just stop time for a moment, wondering how loving someone could hurt so much. She could feel the hesitation in him and knew he had more to say.
“But none of this feels real. I just want to wake up and have it all be over. If this were 1958, and I was just a guy and you were my girl, it would be different...”
Maggie started, pulling away from him with a gasp. Her head spun, as if time had turned over. He had said the very same words to her the night of the Winter Ball, when it had been just the two of them, dancing to songs nobody ever danced to anymore.
“Maggie?” Johnny stopped mid-sentence when she pulled away, and he looked down at her, questioning. The moon played across one side of his face and left the right side in shadows, making him look more ghostly than he ever did when he’d haunted Honeyville High.
“If I were just a guy, and you were my girl, I would never let you go,” Maggie repeated softly. “You’ve said those words to me before. But it’s never going to happen, is it? You’re not just any guy, and I will never be your girl.”
Johnny stared down at her for several long seconds. She stared back, and above them the wind moaned mournfully through the trees. The sound echoed the longing in Maggie's heart.
“I just want to go home, Maggie,” Johnny’s voice was barely louder than the wind. “I just want to go home.”
~9~
A Time to Weep