quintessence. (17 page)

I was just thankful it didn’t affect my job performance today. I left the dance studio and I smiled, because today, I did it. I made it. I was on the path to all my dreams.

__________

Spring this year

Toby kissed along my neck and down to my breast. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. I needed to feel this closeness with him, and I needed his touch to wash away all the pain and stress of the day.

Flashes of the last few weeks haunted me.

“There is a tee shirt from the school board we need to call to have come in and help with this proposal,” I said, and didn’t understand why each of them stared at me and then Gabe laughed.

“Tee shirt?” he asked. “Do you mean teacher?”

“That’s what I meant, yes. Teacher.”

I turned back to my notebook and read what I had written. I wrote tee shirt on the paper. I did it several times.

Toby kissed along my waist and then down my thigh. He made his way back up and when the heat of his breath touched my inner thigh, it stung. It felt like needles along my flesh and it itched. I blocked the thought of the pain and let my mind wander once more.

“You have flubbed on your proposals as of late, Maggie. I had higher expectations than this for you. You used to be up here on your skills and now you’re down here,” he said while moving his flattened hand from by his face, down to his waist. “I hate to say it, but you will have to step it up and get back here,” he said, moving his hand to his face again, “if you want to keep your position. Remember, there are a lot of interns that are just itching for your spot.”

“Stop,” I said to Toby, and pushed him away from my leg. “I can’t right now.”

I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket up around me.

“What’s going on with you, Maggie?” he asked. “It’s been weeks now for us. That isn’t normal. Am I doing something wrong? Do you still love me?” he asked, and the desperation in his voice angered me.

“It isn’t about you, Toby. I just can’t, okay.”

I didn’t want to tell him about work. I wouldn’t tell anyone. The reason Gabe knew was because he worked there. There was no way I’d tell Hannah. I can’t burden her with all this shit.

__________

Summer this year

I opened my laptop to start my email to Toby. He needed to know what was going on with me. He should know that I’m not the same person he had fallen in love with. He needed to know.

I typed up the email telling him about the numbness in my leg, the limp I’d developed, the cognitive issues, the tests, the scares, the inability to focus or even go to the fucking bathroom like an adult. I told him it all. I wanted him to come back and sit with me.

But when I thought of him coming back and sitting with me, I deleted the email.

He didn’t need to be here with me. I was the strong one and I could do this. I didn’t want to see him break because of something I was going through. He had his own things he needed to sort out in his life and I didn’t want my issues to factor into his decision.

He needed to choose me on his own.

I let go of our kiss and touched our foreheads together.

She looked up at me with a gorgeous expression. She looked peaceful.

“Was that worth it?” I asked, pulling my lip in, trying not to smile too wide. I knew it was worth it. It was worth everything.

“Yes,” she said, pulling my hand from her neck and kissing my palm. “You’re just—you make me feel so safe and sure of everything.”

I kissed her forehead, and turned to the left to see that our friends stood slack jawed, staring at us.

Margaret lowered her chin and pulled her bottom lip in. I put my arm around her and pulled her close to whisper in her ear, “I forgot about them.”

“I did too,” she said, and tightened her grip on my hand.

“Well, I don’t think they need an explanation, do you?” I asked her.

“Nope,” she said as she led the way from the party. “I think now is as good of time as any to make our exit.” She giggled.

“I agree.”

When we reached the cold night air she did what she always did. She tilted her head up and breathed in the night sky.

“You do that every time we step outside,” I said.

“You noticed that?” she asked.

I nodded. “Why do you do that though?”

“My grandma used to tell me that if we don’t take the time to smell the outdoors, whether in town or the country, we may forget that it’s there. She told me when she died that I needed to remember that she was out here every time I did it. My grandma saw this connection with everything and it wasn’t an outside force or something specific. She said that everything—our breaths, and the sights we see—all of it is part of this big interwoven web of life. I hadn’t thought about it much since I was a kid. But this last year has reminded me to do it.”

I kissed her hand, and we walked back to her apartment.

“I like how you do that,” she said after we walked a block.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Accept me.”

I smiled at her and put her hand in my arm.

We made it to her apartment and I could tell that the walk and the dancing had slowed her down. She made her way up the stairs and I followed behind her. She took the last step, and it was as if her leg just kept going and she fell to her knee.

“Shit,” she said as she brought her other knee down to the ground next to the one that had given out on her.

I sat on my knees next to her. She looked at her hands and ran the palms of them together.

“Hmm,” I said.

She looked at me with a surprised expression.

“You know, you can apply your grandma’s thoughts to this situation.”

She lifted her brow in question.

“Think about it. How often do you look at the world from this angle? You have that potted plant over there that you’ve walked past hundreds of times. But have you ever looked at it from this height? We are right at its roots—right where it makes itself known. Do you know what kind of plant it is?” I asked her. I knew what it was, but wanted her to tell me.

“It’s my neighbor’s. I don’t know what type it is, but it’s a bonsai tree isn’t it?” she asked, scooting across the floor to get closer to it.

“Yes,” I said. “If you haven’t noticed, I have a lot of time on my hands and I spend a lot of that time learning. I want to know the story and history behind everything. I can’t just accept things without knowing for myself. I thought about starting a bonsai tree at one time, but I didn’t have the heart to do it.”

She looked at me with a questioning smirk.

“It is a tree prevented through artificial means from reaching its normal size. To get them to form that way, it takes a lot of work. Wire is wrapped around it to grow a certain way or take a shape. I think of that as a forced adaptation. I know trees in the wild will just grow around whatever happens to it because that’s how it grows, but to force it just feels wrong.” I ran my finger across the leaves of the small tree.

“I saw a photo once of a golf ball inside a tree.” She smiled at me in confusion.

“It’s an interesting feat for a tree to do. That tree with the golf ball was so damned determined to keep growing it swallowed up the ball. Now that is true art—when you take something and grow around it. You don’t let the thing force you a certain way. You grab it, pull it inside and say, you know what, I will keep on growing my way. I couldn’t be the one to do it to a tree though. I didn’t want to be its golf ball.”

She smiled at me and I put my hand toward her as I stood up. “There you have it. I will never own a bonsai tree. You won’t see me golfing either, but that’s a story for another day,” I said.

She shook her head and laughed as she unlocked her door. “I’m glad you will never be a golf ball, Karl,” she said, setting her keys on the stand just inside her door.

“So, your procedure is tomorrow, and I will be here in the morning to take you,” I said, hesitating in the doorway. I didn’t want to leave her yet, but I didn’t want to invite myself in.

“Where are you staying tonight?” she asked.

I kept my eyes on hers and watched as her smile formed and she allowed herself to grow around it. My apprehension lasted about two point five seconds and seven syllables. That was all it took for me to no longer be cautious, her smile to form, and that question to be asked.

“I was just going to ask you if I could stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch, if you’re okay with that,” I said, pointing toward the couch.

“Yes, I’m okay with that. I have to be there at nine, and I don’t want to sit around my apartment thinking in the morning. It will be bad enough when my parents arrive. I’d kind of like you to be here then. My mom won’t be as emotional if someone else is here. She doesn’t like to show emotion in front of people she doesn’t know well.”

I walked to her couch and took a seat. “Well, when you put it that way, I couldn’t leave and still feel okay with myself.” I winked at her and she came to sit next to me.

She leaned her head on my shoulder and rested her arm around my waist. “You know, this has been the craziest year of my life.” She traced her fingers along my side, toying with my shirt. “It’s been a crazy few years. I don’t feel like I’ve had much of a life. I focused on pushing my achievements in college, then my job, and now here I am, just waiting instead of pushing.”

I ran my fingers through her hair and kissed her head.

“Sometimes the waiting in life is the opportunity we need to listen. I used to get so frustrated with it. Waiting in line to pay or buy something. Waiting to be seen at the doctor, waiting to talk to someone on a service call. I’d get so pissed with it. Maybe you need to just slow down and find the things that lessen the annoyance of the waiting. You know what I did?” I asked.

“What’s that? I’m sure it will be something that will make me feel like an ass for being pissed about it,” she said, with a laugh that reverberated through my chest.

I laughed and tightened my arm around her shoulder. “I started just talking to people about anything and everything. But, I’d never talk the weather or their jobs. I made sure not to bring either of those up. Those topics are the usual because they are safe. I figured I could still be safe, without being common. So, I would think of the most random question possible and just ask it of them. Sometimes they’d scowl at me. But most of the time, they’d respond. I asked this guy one time, ‘
Why do you think they call it BLT and not TBL and why is it that hearing those three letters together in that certain way sets our minds at work. Those three letters spark a thought so rich it could be tasted. It did for me anyway
,’ I had said. The guy looked at me for a few seconds and then just laughed at me. He said, ‘
I’ve never thought of it that way.
’ I decided then that I would think that way. I would think about the reasons behind everything. I couldn’t just think a thought anymore; I had to take it a step farther. I would voice it, no matter how strange it seemed. So now I am to this point. Waiting is no longer a boring place to be. Waiting has now become one of the most cherished moments in my life.”

__________

I woke up the next morning to the Peanuts' theme song.

I heard Maggie throwing things in her room, and then she cursed a few times. A thud sounded and she laughed.

I walked towards her room and when I rounded the corner, I saw her lying on the floor wrapped in her blanket, laughing. I didn’t move to help her; I stayed in the door, leaning against the frame.

“My parents are waiting downstairs,” she said as she pulled her pillow from her bed and put it under her head on the floor. She stretched her back and turned onto her side toward me. She put her hand out, asking me to join her.

I walked into her room and sat on the floor next to her. I leaned against her dresser and rested my arms on my knees.

She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling before reaching to take my hand in hers. I followed her gaze to the light fixture above us. It had a single bulb with iron formed around it, making it resemble an atom.

“My dad made that,” she said.

“It’s cool. Does he weld?” I asked.

“Yep, that’s what he did for years before he moved into a manager position. He still does it with art though,” she said, playing with the yarn at the edge of her blanket. “I’m better today than I was last night. When I fall like that, or stumble, it makes it difficult to ignore it.” She gave a light laugh.

I turned her hand I held and kissed her wrist. “Do you believe in fate?” I asked.

“I used to when I was little. Then I stopped. Now, I don’t know. I suppose we can find fate in everything. If you hadn’t been in the hospital that day, I never would’ve known who I was missing. Then, if I never had this happen, I never would’ve known myself either. Going through this has put life into perspective.”

She looked at our hands for several minutes. She didn’t speak, and I knew she was trying to hold onto the strength she woke up with this morning.

“If you need to not be as strong—I’m here and I can be strong for you. You’re not alone in this and I know your parents would feel the same way as me.”

“I know. But with you, I know you are not seeing me as this. Not as weak, or not as hurt, but just as me. You just let me be in it, without trying to fix it or erase it. I can’t erase these thoughts or fears. They just exist like a rock in my abdomen. Like a golf ball I’m trying to grow around,” she said on a laugh.

“Yes, just like a golf ball,” I said. She described how I felt about my scars. We had met each other where we were in life and didn’t hold expectations from the past or possibilities for the future. We cared for who we had met without those added thoughts. And I had learned to believe in fate again, too.