Chapter 4 #3
Poor guy, blissfully unaware he’d been cursed into loving her. Little did he know that no matter what he tried… no matter how much he loved her back, it’d never be enough. He'd never be on top when it came to Maggie’s love.
Maggie was in the sunroom. Out cold. Her cheeks red from hours of tears. Tears that still leaked out while she slept.
I slid into the wicker couch across from her and grabbed the remote. I hated that he did that to her. Hated that I got the call. That I was the one mending her wounds.
I clicked on the TV/DVD combo set she had on a little rolly cart, turned the volume to silent, and turned on the captions. This had become a ritual. I’d been here six times since Graham left.
Six.
And you know what hurt the most? The fact that she chose to call me over Katie. Me over the aunts. Me over Hunter. Why me? It didn’t matter; I would’ve been here in a heartbeat even if she didn’t call me first. It was like when Graham was there for me after Alaina left me at the altar.
I spent seven months drowning myself in spiked energy drinks, too much weed, and Super Smash Bros—I was always Princess Peach, Graham always Daisy.
Two princesses battling it out until our knockout score was higher than my weed consumption…
and Graham’s alcohol tolerance… those were some long nights. Just like these.
Hopefully, though, Maggie’d make it out alive. The hurt she had was different than mine. I didn’t necessarily want to die. Probably because Alaina wasn’t meant for me.
Maggie wanted to carve out her own heart and bury it under his front porch if it meant he’d come back for her.
I popped the next disc of Friends into the DVD player and let the menu cycle while I quietly tiptoed into the pantry and loaded my arms with essentials—Cheetos, chocolate chip cookies, sour gummy ropes, Twizzlers, and chips—oh, and of course Tootsie Rolls—you know… the basics.
“Wanna grab me a Dr. Pepper?” Maggie called right on schedule.
“Sure thing!” I moved to the fridge and tucked two cans under my chin right on top of the Twizzlers and kicked the door shut with my foot.
As I made my way back to the sunroom, the cookies tipped out of my arms and partially spilled on the floor.
“We have a casualty!” I yelled, each step dropping cookies to the ground. “We’re losing blood!”
Maggie poked her head out and rushed to my aid, pulling the package of cookies from the bottom of the pile.
“Whew!” I said, setting our stash on the glass coffee table. “Thought she was a goner for a minute there.”
I sat on the couch, Maggie snuggled in next to me like she always did, pulling a blanket over us and pressing into me like I was the only thing keeping her alive. She turned the volume up and hit play.
We watched disc after disc until sunrise, and we passed out under the blanket.
Then—a quiet tap-tap-tap on the sunroom’s glass doors. Hunter.
I slid out from under Maggie and went inside.
“How is she this time?” he said, wiping his hands with a paper towel, blood soaking into its dampness.
“The same. Hey, what happened, man? You okay?”
“Ah—fine, hit a patch of ice on the trail, scuffed up my hand a bit.”
I clocked the tightness in Hunter's jaw—something not quite matching fine. He held out his hand and showed me the abrasion on his palm.
“Nasty.” I grimaced and noticed the drying mud on his knees. “Might wanna get that out before a stain sets.”
“Bugger—thanks, mate,” he said and ran out of the room.
I slunk back into the sunroom and closed the door slowly with a quiet click. Maggie hadn't moved, but her eyes were open now, tracking me over the back of the couch.
“You don’t have to be so sneaky, you know…”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I haven’t slept since September. You’re not gonna wake me.” That got a dry look out of her—the kind that meant don't make me explain that. I let it go.
“Well, Hunter’s back now. Will you be okay for a few hours?” I checked my watch. “The precinct wanted my opinion on a misbehaving watercooler.”
“A watercooler? Why don’t they just call the Culligan man?”
“I doubt he’ll have any experience with the glowing green stuff oozing out of it.”
“Oh. Ohhh! Need any help?” Maggie flung the blanket off herself and jumped up, quickly realizing that was a bad idea, and collapsed back into the couch cushions.
I knelt beside her. “You okay?”
“Yeah… I… just stood up too fast.”
“Why don’t you sit this one out, Mags. It’s probably just a residual acting up from Graham’s possession. Nothing a quick dousing of Holy Water won’t fix.”
“Yeah… I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Take it easy. I’ll send Katie over with some breakfast.”
“No—don’t. I’m not ready to explain everything to her just yet.”
“Come on… she needs to know. She cares about you too, you know. Don’t push her away.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What, you think she’s never done anything embarrassing before?”
She let out a defeated breath. “Fine.”
“Okay, Hunter’s probably in the basement. Got some mud on his pants.” I turned to leave.
“Hey, Derek—”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” Her voice faltered, and tears welled behind her lashes. She looked smaller than she had any business looking, curled into that couch like the blanket was the only thing holding her together.
“Mags, it’s going to be okay.”