I eye the window, but before I can toss away Declan’s device, it beeps with a message from him, still on my phone.
My Oh Mags: Is there a bird in your room? Is that a figure of speech, or was it an encoded distress call?
The Declan Printz: Everything is fine. Really. I was just, um, trying to get a laugh.
My Oh Mags: That’s the spirit, but if that’s your sense of humor, we’ll have to work on it. We’ve been apart too long. See? No accidents. Here I am, back in your life, to make you laugh.
The bluebirds spin loop-the-loops in my belly. Just please, no laughter at my expense.
Now, he’s being a gentleman or more of a friend. But during dinner, it was like he was doing everything in his power to defy the rules of the table—chewing with his mouth open, rocking back in his chair, crunching the ice in his drink, and so on. Igroan inwardly. This is going to be a very long month. The phone remains quiet for several long moments.
While I get my head on straight and my thoughts into order, I take charge.
The Declan Printz: You still awake, Declan? If so, I suggest we press pause on the make Maggie laugh campaign. At least for thirty days. This situation is complicated enough.
My Oh Mags: What’s confusing is you’re texting from my phone and I’m replying from yours. But if we can handle this, we can handle a few chuckles. I promise it’ll be fun.
The Declan Printz: Let’s rethink that. I insist you not try to get me to laugh. It’s completely unprofessional.
My Oh Mags: If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the kind of guy who listens when he’s told what to do.
The Declan Printz: I’ve noticed that you’re very contrary. Shall I try reverse psychology? What if I say yes, by all means, try to get me to laugh? Will you do the opposite?
My Oh Mags: Not. A. Chance.
I can imagine the defiance on his lips as if we were sitting in the room together and he had spoken the words out loud to me. I know Declan all too well.
The image of his mouth lingers. I blink my eyes a few times, but the sight of his full-lipped smirk remains.
His phone vibrates in my hand, reminding me we still have each other’s devices.
My Oh Mags: You may wonder if there’s another reason that I want you to laugh... Because I want to see you smile.
Same Declan as ever, but something is different. He’s never spoken to me this way. We’re just friends. This is flirty Declan,with his heavy eyes and a smolder that’s hot enough to require the use of air conditioning, even in this mountain town. At least in my imagination.
But how did that image get there? I saw glimpses of it at dinner. Was he playing a role or is this real? I’m a former actress, so I should know.
The little bluebirds in my stomach flap their wings, as though trying to throw themselves into his words and get closer to the possibility in the comment.
We’ll have to discuss the rules later. But right now, I’m focused on Declan’s easy smile, his smirk, and the Cheshire cat grin that reveals his teeth—birds, watch out. But none of them seems like his real smile. There is more to Declan than he lets on. Maybe he’s testing out some of his lines on me. Well, I can play back.
The Declan Printz: Why’s that? Why do you want to see my smile?
The twenty seconds that pass while I wait for a response are like when Etta Jo counts One-Mississippi, Two-Mississippi in her southern accent, but when she’s sleepy.
My Oh Mags: Because your smile is the kind that can light up a room.
If he said this to me in person, we’d both crack up, unable to contain our laughter because this is not something Declan would ever say to me in real life. Right? His phone vibrates in my hand with another text.
My Oh Mags: It could light up a city.
My Oh Mags: The whole world.
My heart races, the bluebirds fly in circles, and Etta Jo’s comment about clouds comes to mind. Another text beeps on his phone.
Brandi: Where are you tonight? I miss you.
My heart stills. Cinderella’s bluebirds crash-land in my belly. Declan is probably buttering me up and flattering me so I’ll give him a positive assessment, along with telling his football coach and the commissioner that he passed the program. May as well quit while I’m ahead. I send him a text.
