Chapter 8
MAISIE
Wren and I spent the whole day doing exactly as we planned—coffee, bookstore, and a lake walk. I got a new cowboy romance set in a small town called “Saddlebrook Falls” that sounds like a place I’d like to visit.
Neither of us wanted the day to end after our walk along the lake, which is how we ended up at Wren’s apartment having a movie and wine night.
I pop open a bottle of wine—I don’t drink too often but it is fun to let loose from time to time. While I pour out the wine, Wren begins digging through our take-out we got on the way home.
Nothing like burgers, fries, milkshakes, and wine to end a night.
“I know we eat, sleep, and breathe Ruby’s,” Wren says before taking a sip of her chocolate shake, “but they really do have the best burgers.”
I look up at the ceiling in a prayer, mouth full of the bite I just took from my burger. “God bless you, Grandma Winslow, your special sauce will go down in history.”
“Also putting french fries on the burger?” Wren looks up with me. “Revolutionary.”
We stare at each other, mouths full, and burst into a fit of laughter. It’s a mix of realizing how strange we look sitting on her living room floor talking to my late grandma and the mix of alcohol in our systems.
I spring up from the floor to run to my bag and grab my keys. “Wren! I almost forgot! I’ll be right back!” I run toward the door and notice my body start to sway a little bit. Shit, I should probably drink some water.
“What are you—” She cuts herself off seeing that I’m already halfway out the door.
I parked my car right out front so it doesn’t take me long to grab what I need and hurry back inside. I’ve barely looked inside the box myself so I have no idea what’s about to come out of this thing. I honestly have no recollection of ever boxing up any of my stuff from high school.
“Dude! You cannot just frantically run outside drunk like that!” Wren is standing up now, milkshake in one hand and her wine glass in the other.
Completely ignoring her with a grin, I kick off my shoes and run back to where we were sitting.
“First, I’m out of breath. I need water before I pass out,” I say, practically panting which is humbling since I didn’t go far.
“Second, when I got home from work the other day, this was sitting on my porch.”
My excitement is both a mix of me forgetting about the box and also the wine entering my system. I take a breath before I gesture to Wren to sit with me, eagerly tapping my fingers on the cardboard. The second she sets her drinks down and sits back on the couch, I shove the box into her lap.
“A… box?” She gives me a questioning look as she eyes the box now in her hands.
“Theoretically, yes,” I say. “But it’s from high school.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh my, do you know what’s in it?”
“Not a clue, that’s why I brought it so we could open it up together.” I stand back up, a little dizzy. “Let me go get water first.”
Heading into the kitchen, I grab two glasses from the cupboard; if I need water, it’s safe to assume Wren does too. Looking over my shoulder, I see Wren has already taken off the lid.
“Oh my GOD! Look at your student ID card, Mais!” She holds up my senior year card with my school photo. The girl in that photo is nothing like the girl today, thankfully. “Getting bangs days before school started was… definitely a choice.”
I laugh, making my way back with our waters and set them on the coffee table. “Why do you think I’ve kept my hair exactly the same ever since?”
Taking the ID from her, I stare at it for a bit. I take a deep breath welcoming the bittersweet feeling in my stomach. Would past Maisie be proud of who she grew up to be? Would she be upset we’re still here in Ruby Lake working at the diner?
Change has always been hard for me but now I’m wondering if that’s something that’s holding me back.
Change is scary but is staying the same scarier?
“Are you alright over there?” Wren pokes at my shoulder. “You’re spacing out a little.”
“Oh, yeah—” I try to speak but my voice wavers as I blink away tears that try to form. “I’m okay, just stuck in my thoughts.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know.” I try to smile away my tears. “I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol making me emotional or not. I’m just scared that the girl in this photo,” I point at the ID, “would be upset that she’s still stuck in her hometown.”
Instead of holding back tears, I let them fall down my cheek as I look at the girl in the photo before me.
“Oh, Mais.” Wren scoots closer, wrapping her arms around me. “I think Senior Year Maisie would be so proud of who you’ve become.”
“Proud of what exactly?” I let a few tears finally break free. “Proud that I never went to college and still work at the same diner I’ve worked at my whole life?”
Wren hugs me tighter before pulling back, eyes on mine.
“You, Maisie Winslow, should be so proud of yourself. College is not for everyone, do not beat yourself up over that.” She reaches a hand up and wipes away another fallen tear running down my cheek.
“As for staying in Ruby Lake your whole life, I’m right here with you.
Sometimes it’s hard knowing you never left but then you look around, look at the life you’ve created for yourself rather than the life you think you want. ”
“When did you become a therapist?”
“You’re my best friend, I’ll always be your therapist.” She reached to the table to grab a journal.
“How about we get out of present Maisie’s thoughts and see what high school Maisie was writing about in her diaryyyy!
” She sing-songs the last word which makes me break out into a fit of giggles, wiping away the rest of my tears.
I take another sip from my glass knowing the wine can either make me feel better or worse. Either way I have to know what was so important for me to journal about back then.
Wren flips it open and the first page has my name written in orange glitter gel and underneath in cursive it says “My Senior Year” in pink glitter gel.
“The cursive is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Wren laughs.
“Cut me some slack. I was, what? Seventeen?” I can’t help but snicker because she is right, it is a bit dramatic.
Wren flips to the next page. “Aw, this is cute, I must admit.”
I peer over her shoulder and see it’s a list of questions that I answered about my favorite things.
Favorite drink: iced caramel latte
Favorite TV show: The Challenge, duh
Favorite band: One Direction
“Some things never change.”
“Why fix what’s not broken?”
She nods in agreement.
“We knew what we liked and never looked back.”
“Just like my celebrity crush then and now is still Joe Jonas, that man aged like the fine wine we’re drinking.” Our two brains work in unison as we lift our now refilled glasses. “Cheers to that!” Our glasses clink together and we take a sip, our unfinished water be damned.
I’ve always loved journaling and writing. It was therapeutic for me to get my feelings out in a healthy way. As cringy as it can be to reread what I wrote as a teenager, I'm happy I have these memories to look back on.
After twenty or so minutes of reading about my dateless homecoming, the time I bled through my jeans and no one told me, and high school crushes, we reach the last page. I’m in the kitchen grabbing another glass of wine when Wren screams, “MAISIE!”
I jump with a gasp and clutch my hand to my chest, nearly spilling the wine in my other hand. “Was that really necessary?”
“Absolutely it was.” She’s up and running toward me before I can even get my heart rate under control. “Look at this!” she excitedly yells as she shoves my journal at me, pointing to the last page.
Maisie’s Fuck It List
1. Go to the fair and go on the ferris
wheel to get over my fear.
2. Go camping. Like in a tent.
3. Go on a real date with a boy.
I remember writing this near graduation, wanting my summer after senior year to be full of memories. Instead it was full of hours worked at Ruby’s Diner and reading my life away. Not that that was a bad thing but I wanted more. I wanted to be able to cross off items and have a summer to remember.
Instead I’m sitting here years later looking at a list of unfulfilled teenage dreams.
“I see what you’re showing me but I don’t understand why we’re screaming about it.”
“Okay, hear me out.” Wren grabs my shoulders and stares me down. “This is how you change your life!”
I’m trying to grasp what she’s talking about but it all goes in one ear and out the other.
I tilt my head to the side in curiosity. “Why do I need to change my life?”
“You don’t, I think you’re perfect just the way you are,” her pointer finger boops my nose, “but after our therapy session on my emotional support sofa—well, floor—I think a change in your routine might be just what you need.”
“Do you think it’ll help?”
She shrugs. “Even if it doesn’t, it’ll be fun and will get you out of your comfort zone.” She picks up the journal and aggressively points to Fuck It List item number three. “Plus I know the perfect person to help you complete this date.”
Crossing my arms, I raise my eyebrows at her. “Do you now?”
“Henry clearly wants you, Maisie!” She hops next to me and places both her hands on my shoulders, her eyes staring straight into mine like she knows something I don’t.
“You could prove to your younger self that you aren’t the same Maisie you were back then.
You’re hot and you have one of the hottest men I've ever seen begging for an ounce of your attention. And if I’m saying a man is hot, then you know it must be true. ”
“What if it goes horribly wrong?”
“But what if it goes incredibly right? The glass isn’t always half empty.”
“Wren, I can’t just ask Henry to do this with me.”
“Yes you can. I know his phone number is in your phone. And I know he’s probably waiting by it like a school girl wanting you to give him the time of day.”
I open my mouth to speak. “But—”