Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
Frank! Get out here, Frank. They’re here!”
Bunny stands at the edge of the terra-cotta-colored walkway that leads to the front door of the condo—the exact place where she and Frank are meant to be. She’s waving a dish towel above her head, which she’s accessorized with her favorite visor ( Florida! ) and her bright-as-the-tropical-sun shirt. These things suit her here. The dark clothes she once wore are gone now, just a relic from another time. She doesn’t need them. In this life—the right one—Bunny isn’t busy grieving anything anymore.
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Bunny—her face noticeably sun kissed and brightened by creamy coral streaks—proclaims as Frank saunters up beside her in his favorite tourist T-shirt. They both have their drugstore readers predictably perched on the tips of their noses. “You’re taking forever!” She grabs his phone from his hands, which he’s been fumbling around like a football. “Give me that.” Bunny pushes her glasses closer to her eyes, even though they’re not intended for tasks like this. “I don’t want to miss a chance for a good picture!”
Nearby, Jonah pulls all the luggage from the trunk and settles up with the driver. Ellie and Maggie both take hold of their respective suitcase handles and drag them— clunk, clunk, clunk —against the steaming black pavement. The sweat drips down Ellie’s back as if her spine is a waterslide. Already, her T-shirt is soaking wet.
“Everyone stop!” Bunny begs and holds up the camera. “I want to take this before you all come inside!”
“It’s so hot,” Maggie mumbles, droplets of perspiration collecting in the delicate concaves above her collarbones. “Do we really have to—”
“Just smile, Mags,” Ellie suggests, though her tone is kind. She reaches down and takes her daughter’s hand. Maggie lets her. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll make you happy to look back on a picture like this one day.”
“Perfect,” Bunny announces as Jonah wheels his carry-on up beside Ellie and Maggie, striking a casual pose. Behind them, all along the perimeter of the parking lot, a dozen or so slender palm trees reach up toward the clear, blue sky. “That’s just perfect.”
“Into the living room!” Bunny, like always, herds everyone onto the couches. On the television, an old rerun airs on the Game Show Network, same as it did the last time (and the time before that ... and that ... and that) they were all here.
Ellie, still standing, leans against the sofa’s armrest. On the screen, she notes the familiar stage set from Let’s Make a Deal , which consists of three large doors, each contestant forced to choose to see what’s behind just one of them.
She turns to walk away, leaving Jonah, Maggie, and Frank to watch which destiny the contestant has picked. In the kitchen, she joins Bunny, who’s busy putting the final touches on her deli meat tray.
“What are you doing?” Bunny snaps when she notices Ellie peering inside the fridge. “I have everything right here.”
Ellie closes the door, a bag of baby carrots and a head of celery in her hands. “It’s for Maggie,” she explains. In the other room, she hears that the contestant has selected door number three. “She’s just ... choosing to explore some new sides to herself.”
Bunny peers at her daughter over the top of her reading glasses, which slide down her nose. “She’s exploring herself by way of the crisper drawer?” But Bunny doesn’t give Ellie a chance to respond. Already, she’s waving a hand, asking for the items. “Lord, I don’t need to know. Just give me those. Let’s at least put them out on a plate.”
Dinner comes and goes with the ease of any other meal. Bunny prepared spaghetti and shrimp, as well as a large salad, on top of which Ellie added a can of garbanzo beans she found in the cabinet for Maggie. When the family is done eating, Jonah begins the process of helping Bunny and Frank clear the table.
“It looks like Dad’s got this all under control,” Ellie tells Maggie, who sits across from her, taking a final bite of her oil-slicked salad. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”
A few minutes later, they sit side by side on the pool deck. Their feet drift through the water. Above them, the orange sun has begun its slow descent. Everyone else in this small community is back inside, preparing themselves for evening. Right now—right here—it’s only the two of them.
“We haven’t talked as much as we should since you’ve gone away,” Ellie states. All around them, the palm leaves gently sway with the evening breeze. “I’ve had a really difficult time since you’ve left, Mags. It’s been hard for me not having you around and trying to figure out for myself what it is that I’m supposed to do next.”
Maggie doesn’t say anything. She just sits, kicking her feet through the warm water, her long hair delicately draping itself over her slender arms.
“Can I ask you something?” Ellie poses, filling in their silence. Maggie tilts her head up at her mother. The sun’s final rays create a glare. Ellie squints through it. When she does, she sees every version of her daughter sitting right here with her.
Maggie, with her pull-up diaper and whale-spout ponytail.
Maggie, up onstage for her first dance recital—and that adorable, stiff pink tutu—tapping her toes off beat.
Maggie, the first time she rode off by herself on that bicycle with the rainbow streamers ( Look, Mama, look! ).
Maggie, seated on her bed and studying for a test with her headphones on.
Maggie, sliding down the staircase banister—like someone from a movie—in her pale-blue prom dress.
Maggie, waving goodbye from her second-story dorm window the first time her parents pulled away.
Maggie, right here on the pool deck, her white maxi skirt bunched up in her hands so it doesn’t get wet, some unspoken thought or question etched across her perfect face.
“Um, sure,” Maggie finally responds. “What’s—um—what’s up?”
Ellie inhales and exhales slowly. “Mags,” she begins. “Are you ... I don’t know. Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Maggie echoes and bites her lip.
Ellie’s chest tightens. In her mind, she’s wishing she could edit herself, certain she’s said the wrong thing. “I just—”
“I’m—I’m miserable,” Maggie interjects. A wash of emotion instantly falls from her hazel eyes and down the gentle curves of her smooth freckled cheeks.
“Wait.” Ellie is taken aback. “What do you mean you’re miserable?”
“I made a terrible choice, Mom,” Maggie admits. “That school,” she clarifies. “I hate it. I don’t fit in there at all.”
It takes everything in Ellie not to wrap her arms so tightly around her daughter and pull her face against her chest, like when she was small. “Okay” is all Ellie says, so Maggie has the space to keep speaking.
Maggie’s tears drip from her chin and into the blue water, each of them creating a delicate pattern of ripples that spreads across the pool’s surface. “I hate the cold,” she tells her mother. “And the snow. I don’t like the taste of all the hoppy local beers, which, yes , I know I’m too young to even technically drink. I don’t even like to ski, really. I don’t want to eat tempeh. I don’t want to sleep in a hostel all summer.”
Along the edge of the pool area, the community’s old-fashioned lampposts all click on.
“What do you want, then, Maggie?” Ellie asks, unsure of what answer her daughter will provide.
“I—I—” She stops herself. “You were right, Mom. I know I’m supposed to want all this—to move mountains—to be in the mountains, or whatever. But I just ... don’t. I’m not ready. I don’t like being so far away,” she says through a sniffle. “I thought I would. That’s what practically every person during junior and senior year kept telling me. That I needed to challenge myself and break out of my shell. To go somewhere new. To explore. That I’d love it once I was there. But they were wrong. I don’t like it. It’s not for me.” Her chest shudders. “I just want to come back home.”
All around them, a gentle, tropical breeze blows, rustling the flowers on the nearby hibiscus and magnolia trees. The air fills with their unique perfume.
“Can I do that, Mom?” Maggie wipes her face with the back of her hand. “I’ll finish my finals first,” she clarifies. “But once they’re done, can I—”
“Of course,” Ellie says and then takes her daughter’s hand. She gives it a loving squeeze.
With this secret—which Ellie now suspects her daughter has held inside for months—finally out in the open air, Maggie’s breathing starts to settle. For the first time in as long as Ellie can remember, her daughter—suddenly so in need of her—drops her head onto her mother’s shoulder.
“Are you disappointed?” Maggie asks.
“What? No, not at all,” Ellie reassures her. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie continues to sway her feet through the water. “I made such a big deal about going away.” Her toes pop through the surface like fish. “I just feel like I’m supposed to go out and seek adventure and change the world—really leave my mark or something.”
Ellie wraps her arm around Maggie’s back. “You still can, Mags. But you get to choose how you want to do it.” In the sky, a faint outline of the moon reveals itself, a nod to the world that this day and everything it’s contained will soon end. “Sometimes,” Ellie says, “you can make a big impact close to home.”
“I’m sorry I said some of those things to you, Mom,” Maggie says through her tears. “I didn’t mean them. I like your life. I like where we live. I like being close to you and Dad.” She nuzzles herself tighter against her mother. “I don’t know. I think maybe I’m a lot like you.”
Nearby, the pool gate opens.
“Girls?” Jonah asks, taking in the sight of them. “Everything all right?”
They both nod.
“I just needed Mom for a minute,” Maggie explains.
Jonah smiles at them. His eyes catch the early, pale moonlight. “Okay,” he says, not wanting to interfere with this moment. “I just wanted to tell you both that dessert is out. Grams picked up a pound cake.”
“Come on.” Ellie pats Maggie’s thigh. “I promise not to tell any of your college friends that one of your favorite desserts is made with butter and eggs.” She pulls herself back up to a standing position, then pivots in the direction of the gate.
“Hey, Mom,” Maggie says from behind her. Ellie swivels herself around. “I know you’ve given up a lot over the years to always be there for me. And, I don’t know. I guess I just want to say, well ...” Her freckled cheeks subtly lift in a quiet smile. “Thanks.”