All the same.
With a sigh, Bo closed her manual. She couldn’t sit here and watch Max from a distance. It wasn’t bringing her comfort, and it wasn’t bringing her joy, and she really didn’t want to intrude on his party. The party she wasn’t invited to. So, she stood, only taking one final brief look over her shoulder at him, simply because she couldn’t help it. Simply because she wanted to look at him.
I’m like Lot’s wife looking back one final time at Sodom and Gomorrah,Bo thought, once again recalling her Catholic education,only I won’t turn into a pillar of salt, just a fool, and I’m pretty sure Max won’t be rained on with fire, not unless those party lights really are an electrical hazard and not solar powered—
That was a thought, Bo realized, coming back to herself with a start. The lights. There was only one power outlet in Geoffrey’s decking, and it was faulty. Bo knew this because she’d been the one to call the electrician when foxes chewed through the cabling that went from Geoffrey’s house to her summer house last spring. They’d also chewed through the cable that gave the deckpower, but Geoffrey hadn’t bothered to fix it. Why would he? He never had any visitors and had long since abandoned the electric powered barbecue he’d installed years before on the deck. So, they’d simply stuck some electrical tape over the abandoned outlet, left it alone and moved on with their lives. So long as no one tried to connect anything to that power outlet, everything was just fine. Everything was just dandy. Bo knew all of this.
But Max didn’t.
She’d just reached the door of her summer house when the lights in her bedroom flickered once and then cut out, plunging the room into darkness.
Shit,she thought.Max has tried the power outlet on the deck.
Annoyed, she turned around to face the house. Sure enough, Max was up on the deck, scratching his head, looking at the power outlet with a puzzled expression on his face. Instantly, Bo pulled out her phone, tapping out a message to him rapidly.
Bo: You’ve cut the power to my summer house
She saw Max look down at his phone and then over at her, and the puzzled expression on his face quickly disappeared. He began moving his fingers over the buttons of his Nokia 3310, and Bo crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her feet as she waited for his reply with impatience.
Max Fitzroy: I didn’t mean to. I was just plugging in some lights.
She rolled her eyes.
Bo: Yeah, I can see that. Lights for your party. Why aren’t they solar? The deck outlet hasn’t worked for ages. Foxes chewed through the cable. Anyway, that faulty outlet is stillconnected to the cable that runs power to my summer house, and you’ve just cut me off. All for party lights.
Even from a distance, she saw Max scowl at his phone. His fingers began thumbing at buttons again, and Bo tapped her foot impatiently. When a solid minute had passed, and Max was still thumbing at buttons, a serious expression on his face, Bo’s patience was gone. She threw up her arms and stalked towards Max with a thunderous expression on her face.
“Look,” she began testily. “I get that you’ve got visitors coming, and I get that it takes you a solid fucking year to type out anything more than a sentence on that phone of yours, but come on, Max. You’ve cut my power.”
Max, to his credit, refused to be cowed by her sharp tone. “I told you, I didn’t mean to,” he replied peevishly. “I didn’t know about the outlet. You should’ve told me.”
“Why?” Bo asked. “This isn’t my house, remember? It’s not my job to hold your hand through owning it.”
“I’m not asking you to hold my hand through anything,” Max snapped. “Not that you’d take my hand, even if I offered it to you.”
That sentence was a surprise and made Bo pause. “What?”
“Nothing.” Max sighed. “Look, I was just trying to put up some lights. I didn’t know about the outlet. I’ll call an electrician first thing tomorrow and get it all fixed.”
Bo nodded. “Right. Thanks.”
Silence fell, and Bo shifted uncomfortably. All of a sudden, she felt miserable. Max was here, right before her, and rather than it being the joyous reunion her more hopeful self envisioned, it was awkward and awful. Every time they’d met since that day at Cavendish, Crags and Clerk, Max had been glad to see her, and if not glad, then at least welcoming. Now, shetruly for the first time felt like he didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to be around her.
He knows,she thought miserably.He’s figured me out.
“Max, look—” she began, but Max cut her off quickly.
“Bo, I don’t want to do a post-mortem with you here and now.”
“A post-mortem?” she asked, bewildered and hurt, and Max nodded.
“We both know how things are. We both know how things stand,” he stated, and Bo stared up at him, uncomprehending. “Feelings got involved. It’s not your fault, Bo, and it’s not mine. It’s just the way things are. The way they turned out.” He shifted on his feet, pushing his glasses back up his nose, and Bo felt her whole body pulse with longing.
She didn’t dare to touch him though. Didn’t dare to say anything. She was scared to move. Scared to react. He was letting her know in the kindest of terms that he knew how she felt, and he wasn’t interested.
Don’t let him see how much this hurts you,she begged herself.Don’t let him see how deep he’s cutting you right now.
So, she simply stood, rock-still, her face absolutely even, giving the best performance of her career to date, so good even Willa would be proud.
