Track 48 Growin’ Up
Track 48
Growin’ Up
Maggie
Maggie looked at the clock at the Inn in the way one does when calculating how many (or few) hours of sleep are possible if one were to fall asleep that very second. It was the fourth time she had done so. Maggie couldn’t sleep.
“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, similarly restless.
“Nothing. Just processing the weekend.”
“You sure that’s it, Maggie?”
She tried to speak, to say, “Yes, I’m sure,” but she felt physically ill. All she could manage was a grunt.
Jason leaned over and switched on the lamp.
“Look, Mags, I was going to wait till we got home to tell you this, but I think maybe now is better. You know I would do anything to make you happy, right?”
Her lips pressed firmly together, she nodded again.
“Well, after watching you the past few days—I’m having doubts.”
“What kind of doubts?”
“Doubts that I can make you happy.”
“That’s ridiculous. You make me happy.”
He listened and she rolled over and closed her eyes, before rolling back to face him.
“Do I make you happy?” she asked.
“Yes.”
It was the weakest yes she’d ever heard.
“What is it, Jason?”
“I just think maybe we want different things.”
“Like what?”
“Do you mind if I turn the light out?” he asked sheepishly. She didn’t blame him. This conversation was hard to face head-on.
She smiled at him. “You’re the one who turned it on.”
He switched it off.
“Well, for starters, you want to spend your life above your record shop, rarely leaving the town we grew up in. And I get that you’re deeply connected to it, and that you long to be surrounded by memories of your mom and dad, but—”
“Stop. You’re only saying all of this because you saw something between Matt and me—I have been lying here thinking about it too, and I know it was just the excitement of the weekend that you saw. You’re my person. You always have been.” Even in the dark, she looked deep into his eyes.
“You’re my anchor,” she added, touching his cheek with the back of her hand. He rolled over on his back, speaking straight up toward the ceiling, without having to look at her.
“About that, Maggie. I don’t really want to be an anchor. I want to see the world. I want to study abroad and teach abroad. My favorite part of this weekend was talking to Paul and Bea about their travels and sabbaticals. It’s one of the main reasons I became a professor.”
Maggie wondered where this was coming from, his true feelings or, as she suspected, an elaborate invention. “This isn’t working, J,” she said. “I know you’re making this up to set me free.”
He switched the light back on, got out of bed, unzipped his backpack, and handed her a printed form.
“What’s this?”
“A frequent flyer credit card application.”
“This is your proof? We shouldn’t get married because you applied for a new credit card on the airplane? I need a little more than that, sorry.”
“I love you, Maggie, but I think I’ve been living your adventures for too long. I want to have some of my own.”
“You’re just saying all this because you think I like Matt.”
“I don’t think, Maggie, I know. It’s all right there in your eyes. You don’t look at me the way you look at him.”
“How do I look at him?”
“You look at him like a new album that comes into the shop, when you can’t wait to rip off the wrapper, place it on the turntable, and soak up every track before playing it over and over again. And you look at me like your worn-out copy of ‘Big Yellow Taxi’ that you put on when you’re feeling blue and sentimental. They’re both love, don’t get me wrong, but there’s a difference.”
His eyes were on the ceiling through this whole speech, but now he turned to her.
“I want to be looked at like that, Maggie. But not right now. Right now, I want to see the world.”
“But I belong with you, Jason. I—I always have,” she stammered.
“And you always will. You’ll always be my best friend. But I think you may belong with Matt now. It’s obvious to everyone.”
“It’s so late, and I’m so tired, I can’t think straight.”
He placed his hand lovingly on her head and whispered:
“Go to sleep.”
A few minutes later Maggie whispered:
“Are you still up?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, before asking, quite painfully:
“Do you think this is our last sleepover?”
“I do.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and he pulled her close. While she lay in his arms, a stunning thing happened. She felt as if she were being unfaithful, to her heart.