22. Maggie
22
maggie
I swallow down a ruby glass of something delicious and dig back into my antipasto. The bartender, who is a shameless flirt and it feels nice to be noticed, picked the wine and the salumi, cheese, assorted roasted red peppers, and pickled things. The very best part is he chose three different types of Italian bread. I’m in freaking heaven sitting at this busy bar close to ten at night. In Thailand, I felt a little alone, but here I feel like I’m a voice making up a collective song. Does that even make sense? I feel like I’m part of a whole here instead of just a girl who doesn’t speak the language petting an elephant. I also love the schedule I’m keeping. I sleep late, which is something I’ve never been good at. He’s asked if we can be friends.
Maggie: The phrase, “Wasting the day away,” rings in my head my whole life. But I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. It feels good. Did I waste the night by focusing on the day all these years? Anyway. Hi. Ground rules.
His response is instant.
Colt: I’m all in. Hit me. And yes. You wasted the night to sacrifice for the day. And so, we’re just back in this? You talk as if we were texting an hour ago.
Maggie: I don’t know what else to do with you but jump in.
Colt: Let’s jump. Go. Rules?
Maggie: Nothing personal. Don’t tell me about where you are or what you’re doing.
Colt: Meaning, don’t ask. Got it.
Maggie: 2 kid stories per day. Make them good.
Colt: They’re all good.
Maggie: No friend group stuff.
Colt: No talking about Tony, Mak, Lizzie, Hayden etc. Got it. What else?
Maggie: What do you have?
Colt: One for one.
Maggie: One for one what?
Colt: I love asparagus. Love it. Would eat it every meal if I could. Your turn.
I grin and take a bite of my pickled asparagus.
Maggie: And what category are we discussing?
Colt: Unpopular food opinions.
Maggie: If the FDA allowed me to, I’d eat tuna salad every single day.
Colt: So, you’d glow with Mercury?
Maggie: Says stinky pee boy.
Colt: Sloane deep dives into subjects to an obsessive amount.
Maggie: Like?
Colt: When she was little there was a show called the Octonauts.
Maggie: You know I’m a teacher. I’m aware of Captain Barnacles and crew.
Colt: Perfect. But can you quote every single creature report? Did you own all the toys and build and rebuild worlds and ships with each new episode? Live in the bathtub, pool or kiddie pool until the point where our skin wasn’t sure how to unprune itself. Or wear a small sailor hat and eye patch for close to a year like Kawazzi the cat?
Maggie: HA! No but I did go to fourteen hot-air balloon shows in one year.
Colt: And your husband approved of this?
I’m glad to have confirmation they didn’t tell him about the ground stroke and dink balling three-way in my kitchen. They didn’t tell him I dumped Kevin. But that’s not something I want him to know. I’m so embarrassed by the shit I didn’t see or understand for years. I don’t want to tell the stories or reveal that he lied to me for most of our marriage about hunting or whatever else he did up there. That’s not for Colt. He needs to be in a small, impenetrable bubble of happiness. I can’t be there for him about Gemma. He has a ton of friends, and hopefully a therapist to talk to about it all. I don’t know what we’re doing but I certainly don’t want to be his shoulder. And that’s the most selfish thought I’ve ever had.
Maggie: Going to let it slide but rule violation. No spouse talk.
Colt: Fair enough. But is texting okay now? I don’t want to mess anything up for you, Mags. I just want to know you again. No strings. No expectations. My life has been pretty fucking miserable for a while, and I could use a laugh and some stupid conversation. So let’s talk about nothing while avoiding everything. Come on, Meerkat, fill my days with your brand of sunshine.
He takes my breath away. Not sure how sunny I am lately, but it might be time to see if I can find her again. I exhale and send him a meme of a meerkat popping out its hole.
Maggie: Reporting for duty. I saw a sidewalk so severely cracked today, and I couldn’t even believe it. I stood there for a while to Make sure no one tripped.
Colt: Honestly?
Maggie: Yes. What’s something you did that’s dumb today?
Colt: Texted my ex-girlfriend about her husband.
Maggie: Dumber. Surely you did something dumber than that.
Colt: I told Daisy she was being melodramatic. That was pretty damn stupid.
Maggie: 14-year-old girl. Yeah, that was dumb. And that’s two.
Colt: Moving on. What time is it where you are? JK I know. No specifics. I walk around in the same kind of clothing I wore as a kid but a grown-up version of it. Did I destine myself to this life given my mother’s clothing choices?
Maggie: I don’t wear as many dresses as my mom put me in, but I see your point.
Colt: You look good in dresses. Totally a casual, friendly observation.
Maggie: Ignoring that. Your parents dressing you is your first bout of tacit approval. They picked it out, and they wouldn’t Make you look stupid. But what if you do look dumb? And because your mother always shopped at the Gap now you do too. Do you think that’s their marketing plan? Get the mothers.
Colt: Focus.
Maggie: I thought we were just rambling.
Colt: Apologies. Ramble on. I want to hear it all.
I take a sip of my wine and pop a grape into my mouth and let my fingers fly.
Maggie: Do you think they invented Baby Gap for this purpose?
Colt: It’s a t-shirt conspiracy theory?
Maggie: Yes.
Colt: Proceed. I have all night.
Maggie: I’m still scared of rumbling ground.
Colt: I don’t know where you are so I can’t say for certain but if there’s rumbling ground you should be safe. If you’re in Reno or Tahoe or Portland, you should be okay. Do you know we’ve been texting for close to four hours?
Maggie: Yes. I’m tired. So tired. You Make me sleepy.
Colt: Are you in bed?
I won’t tell him that it’s two am here. There’s still noise in the streets because this city is nocturnal, but I am tired.
Maggie: I’m on the couch.
Colt: Me too.
Maggie: I’m going to go.
Colt: And how do we sign off?
Maggie: How about un jour?
Colt: Someday. Perfect. Un jour, Maggie.
Maggie: Un jour.
I drift off, full of wine and secrets. Even though I barely spoke over the last four hours. It was the best conversation I’ve had in an embarrassingly long amount of wasted time.