I nod slowly. “Sort of makes sense now. You’re a minimalist, renouncing all your worldly belongings, including Bagwick Wiggletop.”
Her stony expression cracks. “I did once consider becoming a religious sister.”
We both laugh, not because there is anything funny about nuns. No, I respect them deeply. Rather, this whole situation, and how Maggie and I can go from serious and somber to silly in two seconds.
There’s no one else like her. But now is not the time to probe her about the past. Mostly because I don’t want to discuss mine. After all, we have an unspoken agreement.
“Ordinarily, the school arranges for our accommodations, but because we left so abruptly, we’ll have to find a place to stay, unless you’re heading home,” she says.
“I haven’t been home in years.” Where would I even call home? A park bench? The encampment under one of the bridges that run over the River Liffey?
She looks at me expectantly as though waiting for the address.
“Don’t be silly. I’ve already made arrangements,” I say.
“You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble.”
Outside the cocoon of the airplane, the air is damp, the memories stark, and my energy as viscous as blood. I move slowly, as though stepping through time. Forward or backward, I’m not sure.
Another luxury sedan waits for us. Its headlights glow in the light fog. In the short walk from the plane across the tarmac, Maggie shivers. I long to drape my arm over her shoulder, drawing her closer. I want to assure her it’s okay. No, I want her to do that for me. But is it? Right now, I need an anchor, something to tether me to the life I made for myself beyond these shores. With my hand planted on her low back, I open the car door and she gets inside.
Maggie gazes out the window as if trying to connect our surroundings to me. We never officially declared our pasts private, but there’s a gap in our knowledge of each other and it only starts when we met in high school.
The thing is, I don’t particularly want to fill in the blanks, or be reminded of the guy I was. Maggie is better off not knowing, but I’m afraid that my worlds will soon collide. If I’m not careful, everything I’ve worked hard for, including this friendship, could get sucked into a black hole.
Since leaving Blancbourg, a heavy curtain seems to have dropped between us. It’s as though we both have something to say, but stick to our unspoken pact not to discuss our pasts. I know what I’m keeping from her, and for good reason, but why is she acting distant and cold?
I’m tempted to slide across the hood of the car, action movie star style, but I’m afraid if I turn my back, she’ll bolt and I’ll lose her to this city forever.
It’s happened before.
But I can’t let the past tackle me. As if dodging a linebacker blitz, I waver slightly on my feet.
Maggie ducks her head out the window as if sensing my hesitation. She says, “Remember who holds the lantern lighting your path, Declan. Trust Him. It’s going to be okay.”
A memory of a Bible study my aunt made me join tumbles toward me. There, I met Christ and my life changed after that. One Psalm, in particular, illuminates my mind.
But being back here reminds me so much of Siobhan. Never mind a cold headache from ice cream, my chest hurts. But instead of her, Maggie is here comforting me, saying and doing the right things.
24
DECLAN
The driver stops in front of the Meridian Hotel, a five-star location. Maggie slowly gets out of the car and then spins in a small circle, taking in our surroundings. Drawing a breath, a small smile forms on her perfect lips. The lights from the hotel practically make her sparkle. The crackling inside builds. I want nothing more than for this trip to happen under a different set of circumstances, ones in which I can take all the wrongs I’ve done out of the equation.
She’s too good, sweet, and pure. She doesn’t belong here. At least not with me.
It’s like the past sacks me on fourth down. The ball switches play and now I’m on defense, deep in familiar territory. Exactly where I don’t want to be.
Shoulders bowed, I mutter, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She wedges herself between me and the vehicle’s door before I can close it and tell the driver to speed away, possibly back to Boston. Though I’d make sure Maggie made it home safely.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Not here.”
