When We Collide (14 page)

She flipped off the switch.

I smiled, but the gentle playfulness it held earlier
was gone. My head lolled against the headboard, and I stared at
this girl I was desperate to understand. My voice rasped. “How old
are you, Maggie?”

Frowning, she inclined her head, her eyes searching.
“Eighteen. Why?”

A woman. Grown. She seemed so much older, but
younger somehow. I couldn’t place it. God, she had me mixed up.

“Just...I don’t know. Are you going to go to school?
Get out of this place?”

Maggie laughed, but the sound was completely devoid
of humor. “No, William. Girls like me don’t go to school.”

“What do you mean, girls like you? Look at you”—I
sat up—“you’re smart...and...and you’re...”

Beautiful and kind and deserved so much better than
this
.

She shook her head and leaned down to grab a dust
rag and spray from the bucket. “You don’t know anything about
me.”

Did she understand how much I wanted to?

She turned her back to me and began stacking the
notebooks and papers piled randomly across the top of my dresser
that sat against the wall, across from the end of my bed. I could
see her reflection in the mirror. The sorrow was back, the sadness
that made her look old. She sprayed the dresser top and wiped the
rag over the surface, keeping her head bowed when she spoke. “I’ve
always taken care of my mom and sister. I don’t know how to do
anything else.”

The distance was too great, the girl too far, and I
edged down to sit at the end of my bed. If I reached out, I’d be
able to touch her.

I rested my elbows on my knees and tilted my head up
so I could see her face through the mirror.

“But if you had the chance...the choice? Would you
go?”

Maggie looked up at me. “Of course.”

I’d been right that night. Maggie wanted more.

Pressure filled my chest, something that felt
unbearable but good.

“Why Troy, Maggie?”

She stilled, her throat bobbing when she swallowed.
It felt like an entire minute had passed before she answered. “I
don’t know...it just...happened.”

“He’s an asshole.” I couldn’t stop myself from
spitting the words.

“People aren’t all bad or all good, William. He’s
had a rough life.”

“Does that make it okay for him to treat you the way
he does?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No, of course not,”
wheezed from her mouth. “He hasn’t always acted the way he’s been
acting lately. I just...”

Silence followed, filled up the room with words
neither of us knew how to say. Maggie opened her eyes, stared at me
through the mirror.

“Do you love him?”

Mom suddenly poked her head in my doorway.

“Are you okay in here?” Concern laced her voice, her
attention darting between Maggie and me.

Sighing, I sat back. Mom always had perfect
timing.

Maggie surprised me by answering first. “Yeah, we’re
just talking about school and stuff.”

“Oh.” Mom stepped back a fraction, seemed confused
as she searched Maggie for discomfort. “Well, I’m just right down
the hall if you need me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Marsh.”

“You’re welcome.” Mom looked at me again, her lips a
thin line, drawn up at the side. It was a warning. Then she nodded
and walked down the hall.

Maggie turned around and forced a smile. “I think
I’m finished in here.”

“Maggie—” I leaned forward.

“It’s okay, William. Really...I’m okay.”

We both knew it was a lie.

“Listen,” she said as she glanced behind her, “I
have some more cleaning to do downstairs. Would you mind carrying
the vacuum down for me?”

Maggie was waving a big, huge stop sign in my face.
She didn’t want to talk about it.

Sighing, I climbed to my feet. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was soft.

She didn’t seem to mind that I followed her room to
room for the rest of the afternoon. She’d laugh as I joked and did
anything I could to wipe that sadness from her face. We talked
about nothing, everything light, never verging into the topics that
weighed so heavily on my mind.

And for a few hours, Maggie was mine.

William ~ June, Six Years Earlier

Tuesday had become my favorite day. I awaited each
with barely constrained anticipation. Those mornings, I found I
couldn’t sleep and would wake with the first call of the sun
bleeding in through the narrow slit in my drapes. Then I’d pace the
floor until she arrived.

Just like I was doing now.

The rest of the week was agonizing, caught in the
paradigm of hoping I’d catch a glimpse of Maggie while I was out,
all the while praying I wouldn’t. Almost every time I did see her,
she was with Troy. Her hand would be wrapped up in his as if it
belonged there, even though it was so obvious to me that standing
next to Troy was not where she wanted to be.

The worst part was she never so much as batted an
eye in my direction when she was with him. Never even gave a hint
of acknowledgment to my presence. I understood why, the stifling
hostility that roiled between Troy and me. It was so thick there
couldn’t be a person in the room who wouldn’t choke on it. It’d
grown over the weeks, the bitterness that tightened his jaw and
hardened his eyes.

I wondered if it was obvious to him just how much I
wanted his girl.

It was only a matter of Troy walking through the
door of wherever we were hanging out and Blake was suddenly ready
to leave. I knew to Blake this animosity was not so much about the
girl Troy towed alongside him, but the principle behind it.
Reluctantly, I would follow my brother out from wherever we’d been,
conceding to let the bad blood simmer.

Maggie had been back to the house three times since
that first timid knock on my bedroom door. She began coming earlier
and earlier each time, lingering a little bit longer before she
left. After the conversation we shared in my room, I struggled to
maintain safer subjects, giving her space. I learned little
snippets of her life. She’d be happy to read all day long, but the
thought of taking a math test made her sick to her stomach. I
teased her when she revealed she loved Harry Potter, and then she
blushed when she admitted she liked to sing. It was a whisper when
she told me her little sister was the most important person in her
world, saying she’d do absolutely anything for her.

Beneath those everyday words grew an affection I was
certain was only noticeable to the two of us.

Giving her that space had become hard to do when I
opened the door last Tuesday to find her eyes tear-stained and
puffy. I waited until my mom went upstairs, and then I followed
Maggie into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” I’d pled to her back. “Is it
Troy?”

She’d only shaken her head, turned and lifted her
gaze to mine.

The expression on her face killed me.

“Maggie, please...tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t,” she’d said, but she hadn’t hidden her
face, had openly showed me the pain she held there.

I’d just stood there, wishing I could somehow wipe
it away.

That place she discovered in me expanded again when
the doorbell rang downstairs. I glanced at the clock on my bedside
table. Fifteen minutes earlier than the week before. Taking a quick
peek at myself in the mirror, I pushed my fingers through my hair
while telling myself to get it under control before I bolted out
the door.

When I stepped from my room, I paused to listen to
the voices coming from downstairs.

“I’m so sorry, Maggie,” I heard my mother say. “Lara
just called to say she isn’t feeling well, and I promised her I’d
stand in for her down at the shelter.”

“Oh…oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t know…,” Maggie seemed to
ramble, the uncertainty making a resurgence. “I’ll just—”

Mom began to speak at the same time. “You can come
back or stay, it’s up to you.” Mom’s voice dropped in a sort of
ruefulness. “William’s here, though. I’m not sure…”

With my gut in knots, I moved forward to watch the
interaction over the wall, to see my mother have to look down
because she couldn’t bear to finish the sentence, to see the
embarrassment rush to redden Maggie’s cheeks, then to see the
resolution take its place. “No. It’s fine. I can stay.”

Mom looked up. “Are you sure?”

Maggie crossed the threshold. “I’ll be fine, Mrs.
Marsch. Really.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to describe the way it made
me feel that she chose to stay with me—that she felt safe with me.
What I was sure of was it made me sick to think of why she had to
contemplate it in the first place.

With my mother away, I ended up spending the entire
afternoon trailing Maggie’s every move, found myself working beside
her while we continued on in nearly constant conversation. I
couldn’t pull myself away. All I wanted was to be near her, to swim
in the attraction saturating the room as it slowly simmered between
us. She kept smiling over at me, always shy, but somehow free.

It was almost painful not to reach out to touch her.
Instead, I busied my hands and my mouth, helping her straighten the
pillows on the back of the couch while I told her about the time
Blake and I got busted stealing a street sign off Main when I was
in junior high. The words were just to fill the space. In the
undertones, there was a plea. Please, open up, talk to me.

I continued on when she shook her head and laughed.
“The cop had his flashlight on us, yelling ‘Stop,’ while Blake was
screaming ‘Run,’ I just stood there, frozen. Blake was so mad it
was my fault we got caught.”

“I can’t believe you two. You were so bad.” She
grinned at me, those brown eyes warm and amused.

“
Blake was constantly causing
trouble in high school, and of course, I wanted to be right there
beside him. I mean, it wasn’t anything super bad, but I think he
was grounded more than he wasn’t.”

Maggie’s movements slowed and she squinted her eyes,
as if in thought, absentmindedly fluffing a pillow before she
tossed it to the couch to grab another. “He seems so different
now.” She turned to study my face. “You seem different.”

I could feel the shift in the air. The attraction
flared. Swallowing, I forced myself to keep talking. “Yeah.” I
thought about Blake in the truck after the bonfire, the way he’d
spoken about Grace, how he wanted to marry her, the devotion that
had gushed from his mouth. “I guess we’re just growing up.”

Maggie nodded, seemed lost in memories.

“Maggie,” I said, my voice softening as I inhaled
through the tension in the room. I’d been tiptoeing around topics,
careful not to tread too deep, but I couldn’t do it any longer.
Continually wondering and worrying about her had begun to wear me
down, and I knew Maggie wouldn’t just come out and tell me. I had
to ask. “You never answered me.”

Her face pinched in awareness, but she asked, “What
are you talking about?”

“Troy...do you love him?” I could barely get the
words out. I thought I knew her well enough to know how she felt,
but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t know how to handle it if I were
wrong.

“William...” She tilted her face down.

“Please, I need to know.”

With the slant of her head, her expression was
indiscernible, and she barely shook her head, but in it was her
answer. No. Again, I didn’t understand her or the choices she
made.

“Then...why don’t you just break up with him? I
know”—my hand fisted as I emphasized the word—“you don’t want to be
with him, Maggie. Break up with him...please.”

Maggie inclined her head so she could look over at
me. “It’s not that easy, William.”

Old wounds filled her eyes.

Her family was the root of it all, I was sure, what
brought on the sadness that haunted her eyes. What made her think
someone like Troy was good enough for her. What made her believe
breaking up with some loser wasn’t that easy. How could I convince
her otherwise if I didn’t know the truth?

“Will you tell me about them...what your family’s
like? I mean...I’ve heard stuff...” I trailed off, feeling sick
when I realized I’d pushed her too far.

She stilled, and her face paled. She turned ashen
white. Her hands trembled and the pillow slipped to the ground.

“Maggie...”

She squeezed her eyes shut, then fled from the
living room into the kitchen with her hand covering her mouth.

Stupid…careless
. I cursed at myself as I sank
down onto the couch. So foolish to broach a subject I knew she
wouldn’t want to talk about. But I was desperate to know her—to
really know her. But then I had to admit I was probably
ill-prepared for what I might learn.

I warred with the urge to go in the kitchen, to
offer her comfort, to tell her she could tell me anything and I’d
never think any less of her. I forced myself to sit still and wait
for her to decide.

Three minutes later she returned, hesitant as she
approached me. She stopped a foot away from where I sat and
apologized to the floor. “I’m so sorry, I…” She glanced at the
front door. “I should go.”

I grabbed her wrist, not hard enough to restrain
her, but firm enough so she knew I wanted her to stay. Just the
slight contact was enough to knock the wind from me.

What had this girl done to me?

I stared up at her, pleading without words, hating
the monster inside her that caused her to believe she was worth
anything less than what she was, wishing she would see what I saw.
Wished she wouldn’t hide. I recovered my voice, though it was
broken, choppy with emotion.

“Don’t leave.”

Her eyes dropped closed, I feared as another means
of escape. Instead, she shocked me by twisting out of my grasp to
weave her fingers through mine.

A moment was spent contemplating the connection, the
surge of warmth that rushed straight to my heart and settled in the
pit of my stomach, before I looked back at her face to find her
staring down at me.