Chapter 23
Maggie hadn’t been exactly ready for her world to come rocking, but she was starting to see the bright side to a tectonic shift. Back in Ocean Beach in July, Ty had unlocked a monumental reframe in Maggie, one so powerful she would’ve been jealous of his insight if she hadn’t been so grateful for his words. Because he was right. Maggie had spent years tying her self-worth to her career, seeking external validation from toxic people. Kurt had tossed her over a cliff, straight to rock bottom, but now she had a ladder. She could climb her way out, one rung at a time.
First, she’d attempt to process the only way she knew how: by writing.
When Maggie walked into her Murray Hill apartment back on that Sunday afternoon, she opened her laptop and started to work on her short. It was breathless, restless, but it had to be. She only had three weeks to prepare something in time for the Fire Island Film Festival’s deadline. With Ty’s surprising encouragement, she suddenly knew that she had to enter, to see if she still had it in her, this dream she’d spent all summer attempting to forget.
By the time Brenna and Quinn had returned home from their Sunday evening ferry, Maggie had a sense, an outline, of the movie she wanted to shoot. Summer of Second Chances would be about two best friends in New York, finding their way back together after years adrift. Brenna and Quinn accepted their starring roles before Maggie could finish her request.
Then, Maggie opened up to them about what she’d endured in LA. About how Kurt had continually berated her, then stolen her words, then had been checking in on her surrender, sending threatening texts and emails to make sure she kept the truth at bay.
They hugged her tight for what felt like a beautiful eternity before Brenna extracted herself to research labor laws and studio HR policies and WGA credit arbitration processes. Quinn looked up a series of cross-continental hexes that might work faster, just in case.
Even though the harm was done, and Maggie knew she wouldn’t let him get away with it, the relief of sharing the truth, of being honest and vulnerable, was instant. She cursed the June version of herself who’d been too proud and stubborn to trust that anyone might catch her from her free fall. Brenna and Quinn had proven the exact opposite. For so long, Maggie had felt like her corner had been covered in cobwebs, having soldiered through so much alone. It felt good to look around and see some furniture, a painting or two. She was so lucky to have them.
Those next weeks of filming in New York City had been exhilarating. Riding the subway with her equipment, going from a water scene on the East River Esplanade to an exterior FiDi café in a matter of blocks. Coaching Brenna and Quinn on their lines, laughing through it all. Maggie even took the Staten Island Ferry (for free!) to cover her establishing shots. The sunset behind the Statue of Liberty. A sunrise over downtown.
She loved it.
When she found out Summer of Second Chances had been accepted, she sent Ty the Breakfast Club fist pump GIF and tried to ignore how the thought of him made her stomach tighten, just a little.
Now Maggie hoped she’d make it to the festival to see their hard work presented on a screen.
Assuming Liz didn’t send her packing from Fire Island first.
Liz’s and Mac’s faces had gnawed at Maggie like a pit in her stomach the past few weeks. She hated how she’d left things with them, hated more the cold shoulder they’d both sent in her direction since. She knew it was what she deserved. She’d been selfish and self-centered. For weeks, Maggie had been convinced that Liz and the Peters family were going to disinvite her from the engagement party entirely. They hadn’t officially asked her to stay back yet, to skip the final Ocean Beach weekend, but Liz hadn’t answered a single text that Maggie had sent all month. Maggie could read between those lines.
Until her phone pinged yesterday.
Liz:Can we talk Friday in Ocean Beach? Just us?
Maggie was all too familiar with the Judgment Day trope in movies. The grand retribution, the payback for all the protagonist’s flaws. Maggie knew what was coming in hers. The Hey, soooo we don’t actually need a videographer, and maybe you should just stay home entirely, and let’s never try being friends again talk. She spent the entire ferry ride over coming to terms with it.
She was never going to be welcomed back by Cam, Mac, and Liz.
Settling into her room at the Serendipity House, Maggie realized this could be her last day here. After Liz officially ended their friendship, Maggie knew she’d have to leave, to give Liz her space. She was grateful that at least she’d hopefully still have Brenna and Quinn. That maybe Georgie and PJ would still meet her for pizza and Bud Light towers at Cornerstone Tavern if she asked nicely. She plopped onto the rental’s trundle bed and tried not to cry.
Then Liz called.
Her voice was shaky when she asked if Maggie could come talk now. Originally, Liz had suggested meeting at the bay for drinks after her and Cam’s meeting with the Maguire’s event coordinator. Maggie figured the meeting had ended early. Liz probably wanted to get their awkward conversation out of the way.
It felt like a date. She smoothed her hair and quickly changed her outfit three times and her earring choice once before racing out the door.
Maggie wrote as she walked:
I have no eloquent words, no observations, no poems. I only have one wish: please, please, please, let this go well. I miss my best friend.
As Maggie turned onto Bay Walk, she saw Liz standing in a beam of sun, such perfect lighting that it felt like a set. The best views on Fire Island were here, on the bay beach, where the water sparkled and the sky looked like a painting. Liz’s red hair was longer than it used to be when they were kids, but Maggie’s mind still flashed with a scrapbook of photographs from their youth. Girl Scout camping trips and bowling birthday parties, the soccer summer league neither should have signed up for. Afternoons picking flowers and singing songs on the sidelines instead of following the ball or learning offsides.
Now in Ocean Beach, Maggie felt herself taken aback. What was it about friendship that made her heart swell? Liz was more than a friend, she was a sister.
Maggie had risked losing it all.
She rushed up to Liz now and felt tears bubble in her eyes. The apologies, the explanations that Maggie had rehearsed sat on her tongue, but suddenly, nothing was enough. Instead, she pulled her friend, her best friend, into a hug. She cried.
And Liz laughed. Her signature avalanche. “Are you okay?”
Maggie laughed back at herself, at her tears. “I don’t think I’ve been okay for a while.”
Liz grabbed her hand. Her face was furrowed, too. “Me either.”
Maggie and Liz spoke at the same time.
“Liz, I’m so sorry—”
“You remind me of her.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows. “I remind you of who?”
“My mom,” Liz said, and Maggie felt goose bumps spread. “She’d be so proud of you, you know? And it hurts to think about the things she would have been.”
Maggie shook her head. “I’ve been awful.”
“You’ve been tough,” Liz said. “Brenna and Quinn told me about what happened in LA. They knew how much it was weighing on you. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”
“It’s no excuse to be a terrible friend.”
“I haven’t been much better,” Liz said. “I just, well. I don’t think I was prepared for how much you remind me of her. Of my mom. Of everything we’ve been through.”
“I do?”
“It’s like I see it everywhere now that you’re back. All the memories. Us as kids, as teenagers. You remind me of a happier time, and I guess I just…I haven’t really wanted to let myself feel happy. And I think I blamed you for that. For all the things you make me think about that I don’t have anymore.”
Liz’s lip quivered as Maggie let her friend’s words soak in. An engagement was supposed to usher in the happiest moments of someone’s life. A celebration and a promise of the shared life ahead. Yet Liz’s happiness was still shrouded in the sadness of the missing. Of course it was. Maggie hated that she’d been absent for so many opportunities to take her friend’s sadness in stride, to shoulder it, to share. That she had moved when Liz needed her most.
But Maggie could be here for her now.
She traced her fingers in the sand. Before she knew what she was doing, she held a clump of the fine grains in her palm, and she spoke. “I’ll never forget Nancy’s smile, or the smell of her kitchen. Those bright yellow walls popping against her orange hair as she whipped up cookie dough and let us carve out chunks with spoons. The crunch of the chocolate chips between our teeth like secrets just for us. Nancy’s stories, her Brooklyn accent, her advice, her reliability. She was there when I needed her, a family that I chose, a family that she graciously let me share.” Maggie’s voice cracked but she persevered. “Nancy, I promise to carry on your spark, to laugh and smile and cheat with chocolate dough. To always care for those who need it most. I miss you, I love you. Forever, forever.”
In an instant, Maggie raised her arm and tossed her handful into the bay. The sand hit the waves with a shimmer like raindrops or sprinkles from the sky.
“To Nancy,” she whispered.
When she looked over at Liz, she was surprised to see that her friend had gathered up her own handful of sand. Liz joined her at the edge and lifted her fingers one by one, the sand trickling down into the depths of the bay.
“I miss you, Mom. So much. Thank you, for everything. I hope I make you proud.”
Maggie grabbed Liz’s hand and squeezed. “I bet she’s laughing at us somewhere, you know. ‘Those two girls, always so dramatic,’?” Maggie said, in her best Brooklyn accent.
Liz cackled. “She totally is laughing at us. And she wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve been pretty dramatic.”
“So have I.”
“And pretty mean.”
“So have I.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I’m so sorry, too. So, so sorry, for it all. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to make you all proud.”
“We’ll always be proud of you, Maggie. Even if you do nothing at all. You’re one of ours.”
Maggie nodded, letting herself believe Liz’s words.
“Let’s never do this again?”
“Promise,” Maggie swore.
“Promise. Are girls the worst?” Liz asked.
“They’re the best,” Maggie said.
As the friends sat down in the sand, crisscross-applesauce style, like the postures of their youth, Liz let her head rest on Maggie’s shoulder. “Sisters are even better,” she said with a sigh, and Maggie felt her stomach pulse with a pit again.
“All that Mac stuff, I’m sorry if I made you—”
Liz sat up straight. “Mags, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“As much as I’d love to be sisters-in-law, I don’t think there’s ever going to be a real future for me and Mac,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry to let you down.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. For putting pressure on you guys. I think I just wanted you to be as happy as I was,” Liz said. “But we don’t need the Peters boys to be sisters. We were sisters way before they even joined our bus stop, remember?”
“Don’t let Cam hear that. He still insists they single-handedly supplied the street with a ‘whole new energy,’?” Maggie said.
At the thought of Cam, though, Liz’s face looked pale.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.
“That Milan program I told you about?” Liz’s chin crumpled. “I got in.”
Maggie leapt up. “Liz! What? That’s incredible! Congratulations!”
Liz pulled her back down to where they’d been seated. “But Cam found it out in the worst way possible. Just now. We fought about everything and I don’t know what to do.” She groaned, leaned her head again on Maggie’s shoulder. “What do you think?”
Maggie softened. “I know I’ve been gone for too long, but the way he looks at you, Liz? It’s like you’re both still seventeen. You’re meant to be together. I know it in my bones. Give him a chance to see what you see in Milan. And if you need to cry or scream or vent or just eat chocolate chip cookies for an hour, you know where to find me. This time, I’m not going anywhere.”
Maggie meant it.