“Never saying it at all.”
She kisses my cheek, and the bathroom door creeps open. Maggie stands, framed in the blackness of the unlit room. She is pale. That much I can see. As she emerges into the lit bedroom, her usually vibrant green eyes are bloodshot, dark circles underneath. The left sleeve of her shirt is pushed high above her elbow, and a small circle of dried blood shows on her upper arm.
I want to go to her, ask her for answers, but something in her stance tells me to keep my distance.
“I’m…I’m so sorry for ruining the night. I’m going to take a quick shower and then go to bed.” She smiles at Jordan. “It was so nice meeting you all. Please take Griffin back to the party and enjoy what’s left of the evening.”
Jordan ignores the stay-away vibe and heads right for Maggie, hugging her.
“We’re so happy you’re okay. We’ll head back down for a drink or two. We’re hanging at your swank hotel now. But only on one condition, that this isn’t good-bye yet. There’s a Starbucks across the street. Meet for coffee in the morning?”
Maggie nods, and I’m filled with relief. Because I’m not heading back down with Jordan, not yet. I’m not leaving this room until I know Maggie is okay, and if that means waiting until she showers and falls asleep, so be it.
“I’ll be down in a bit, then,” I say, and Jordan flashes me a look of understanding.
“See you soon,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“See you soon.”
“And you…” Jordan looks at Maggie as she backs toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Maggie forces another smile. “Sure. See you in the morning.”
When Jordan’s gone, I follow her lead and ignore whatever it is Maggie is doing to keep me away, and as soon as my hands cup her cheeks, her tears begin to fall.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t let her apologize, not again, not for something that is as much my fault as it is her own.
“It’s my turn,” I tell her. “My turn to say I’m sorry. You told me this could happen. You told me, and I didn’t take it seriously. I’m so sorry, Maggie. God, if this weekend was some sort of test for us, I fucking failed. I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t.”
The tears keep falling, and I kiss them as they do, the word sorry spilling from my lips over and over again. Maggie makes no move to kiss me back.
Finally she’s able to talk through the tears.
“I need to clean myself up.” Her voice is flat aside from the tremble of the ebbing sobs. “Then sleep. You should go be with your friends.”
She pulls free, grabbing her toiletry bag from the top of her suitcase, and then she retreats into the bathroom again, closing the door while I stand there alone.
My first instinct is to follow Jordan downstairs. To run. When a girl heads to the bathroom in tears, that’s always my sign for an exit. It would be so much easier. If Maggie doesn’t want me here, then I don’t need to be here.
But even if she doesn’t want me, she sure as hell needs me—needs someone. And I’m her only choice. So I sit on the foot of the bed and wait, and when she emerges in a T-shirt and shorts, hair wrapped in a towel, and her red eyes evidence that she spent the whole shower with tears streaming, I still don’t move.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her.
She lets out a long breath and joins me at the foot of the bed, unraveling the towel before resting her head on my shoulder.
“Okay.”
On the rare occasion I stay the night at my parents’ house and Nat’s around, she sometimes goes out on her own, leaving Violet to spend the night in the room my parents have made for her. I don’t know what Nat does when she’s out, but it’s nice to see her take time for herself. Watching Violet is beyond easy. The girl can practically take care of herself. And when I tuck her in at night, I always know Nat is a phone call away, or my parents are down the hall. The responsibility of taking care of Vi has never been solely placed on me. Not for real, anyway.
But as I tuck Maggie in now—groggy from her medication and the aftermath of the migraine—I’m struck with an awareness. If I fuck up with Maggie in any way, I have no back-up, no support. I’m on my own.
I lie behind her on top of the blanket, my finger tracing circles on her shoulder.
“You’re going to go downstairs with them, right? I won’t be able to sleep if I know you missed the rest of the night with your friends.”
Even as she says them, her words slur with a heaviness of sleep I can’t begin to comprehend.
“I’m not drunk anymore,” she assures me with a small but painful laugh. “The migraine and the meds knock me out.”
I kiss her cheek, and she sighs, her eyes closed and her breaths deepening.