Now and Again (27 page)

M
aggie planned to move the files on the last day of DC's vacation. While Lyle and Will chattered over breakfast about Stucky Place's lucky homer and the upcoming championship game, Maggie put on a blouse she had bought for the occasion. It consisted of a sheer shell and a lacy undergarment and was exactly the sort of thing Valerie might wear. Although the day was bound to get hot, she covered the blouse with the bulky birthday sweater and packed two double-thickness grocery bags with magazines and party snacks. “They're for the team,” she said to Lyle as she loaded them into the back of the truck.

When they reached the prison parking lot and she went to take them out again, Lyle said, “Why don't you just leave them in the truck. The game's not until tomorrow.”

“No, no,” said Maggie, trying to think of a reason why this wouldn't work. “Some of the cookies are for the prisoners, and I haven't sorted out which is which.”

“Can't you do that now? No sense having to carry everything home again on the bus.”

“No, no,” Maggie said again. “If I do that, I'll be late.”

“Really, Maggie. It'll save you…”

“I said no! I really can't!” Maggie tried not to look as if she was struggling under the weight of the bags, and after a moment's hesitation, she added, “You can't say anything to anyone, Lyle, but I might not be working at the prison much longer. I've been offered a job in Phoenix, and I'm considering taking it.”

“Phoenix!” cried Lyle. “What would you go to Phoenix for?”

“There's an attorney there who can help Tomás, but he needs an assistant. It would just be for a little while.”

“Are you in trouble?” asked Lyle. “Jimmy mentioned something that day at the lake, and MacBride said something too.”

“Lots of people are in trouble,” said Maggie. “That's the entire point.”

She watched from the sidewalk as Lyle slammed the truck into gear and roared off, before making her way up the steps to the employee entrance.

“That looks good,” said Louis, who was manning the scanner.

“Snacks for tomorrow's big game,” said Maggie.

“Well, save some of those cookies for me.”

When everyone had left at the end of the day, Maggie made her way to the basement to clear out the two burgeoning fictitious files. She stuffed the folders into the paper grocery bags and covered them up with some of the snacks. She felt like a secret agent as she used a box cutter to remove the pages of a magazine she had bought to use as a false cover for the draft legislation. But first she had to copy it. The copier had already been turned off for the weekend, so she went into the alcove and flipped the switch. Since the machine was slow to warm up, she decided to make one last visit to Tomás. It took her almost no time at all to clear security, so she was already sitting on one of the folding chairs when Tomás shuffled into the visitors' room.

“What's going on?” he cried. “This isn't your usual day!”

“I wanted to tell you I won't be here next week,” said Maggie.

“Are you going on vacation?”

“Yes,” said Maggie. “I am.” She had brought a package of cookies with her, and now she held it up. After that, there seemed to be nothing to talk about, partly because there were no math problems to solve and partly because Tomás didn't launch into his usual litany of complaints. He looked sheepish, almost like a schoolboy in front of a new teacher, causing Maggie to wonder what was up. Soon enough, however, Tomás peered out from under his eyebrows in the wheedling way he had, but instead of wincing as if someone was about to kick his shin or pull his chair out from under him, he seemed to be trying to hide how happy he was.

“What is it?” asked Maggie. “You seem happy today!”

“I brought you something. You're always giving me things, and I wanted to give you something in return.”

Maggie had noticed that Tomás was sitting with one arm behind his back, and now he swung it around with a flourish. “Ta-da! I made it!” He set a lump of glazed clay on the table between them and grinned expectantly at Maggie. When she only stared at the object in confusion, Tomás carefully took the halves apart to reveal a hollow where some very small keepsake could be hidden. “It's for your dresser at home,” he said. “I'll bet Lyle has given you some piece of jewelry you cherish. Now you have a place to keep it!”

Maggie was not sure what to say, but Tomás was rattling on. “It's not obvious that this is a container, so if thieves come into your house to steal your valuables, they probably won't notice and your present from your husband will be safe.”

Maggie was speechless and a little appalled, but Tomás jabbered on about possible uses for his gift.

“Or it could hold a lock of a loved one's hair,” he said. “Who would you choose—Lyle or Will?”

Maggie didn't like it when Tomás mentioned her family, and now she interpreted his gift as a means of inserting himself into their home—into her very bedroom—by enveloping a present to her from Lyle with a present of his own.

“Thank you, Tomás,” she said, but she knew the words didn't sound heartfelt, and when she dragged her eyes up from the ceramic object to meet his, it took her an extra second to make them sparkle with the delight he was expecting and she wished she could feel. She recalled how she would set the treasures Will brought home from school in a place of honor and how she would tell him they were the most remarkable things she had ever seen. It was clear Tomás was expecting something like that now, and there was an awkward silence while she tried to think of what to say.

As she was deciding between the words “imaginative” and “unique,” Tomás said, “I like your sweater.”

“Thank you!”

“Where did you get it?”

“My goodness,” said Maggie. “I can't remember.” The birthday sweater was far too big for her, and she had only worn it because it covered up the sexy blouse she was wearing in order to distract Hugo when she left with the files. But now she felt defensive on her family's behalf and didn't want to let on to Tomás that they would buy her something so ill fitting and drab.

“I wish I had one like it,” said Tomás.

Tomás was small. The sweater wouldn't fit him any better than it fit Maggie, and it was rude of him to basically ask for it outright. Still, she knew she wouldn't be seeing him again, and she would be taking the sweater off in a few minutes anyway in preparation for her confrontation with Hugo. Perhaps it would be a way to buy him off—though exactly why she needed to buy Tomás off, she wasn't sure. Adding to her guilt was the knowledge that in all these months at the prison, she hadn't accomplished anything significant—all she had succeeded in doing was to flirt with a security guard and develop the same sense of superiority she had criticized in Valerie. So she unbuttoned the sweater and said as solemnly as she could, “I want you to have it, Tomás. It's obviously too big for me, but I think it would fit you just fine.”

Tomás didn't smile very often, but now it looked as if his cheekbones would pop right through the skin. He hugged the sweater to his chest and beamed at her over the plastic tabletop.

“I'm glad you like it, but that's not even your real present,” said Maggie. “The thing I wanted to tell you is that I've sent your file to an appellate attorney who is going to review all of the evidence. I can't promise that anything will come of it—in fact, it probably won't. But at least we've taken the first step. We'll just have to wait and see where it goes.”

Tomás fidgeted in his seat, taking her words in. “That's a pretty big present,” he said. “But you know, don't you, that if they hadn't gotten me for running away that day, they would have gotten me for something else.”

“You might as well give up right now if you're going to think like that. Promise me you'll practice being optimistic.”

“Okay,” said Tomás. “Anything for you.”

“There's one thing you
can
do for me,” said Maggie. “You can tell me about solitary confinement. Do they even do that here?”

“I'm not allowed to say.”

“Why ever not?” asked Maggie.

“It's the rules, that's all.”

“But who would know if you told me?”

For an answer, Tomás made a zippering motion by drawing his finger across his lips.

“Have it your way,” said Maggie. Then she repeated that she was going away for a little while, but she'd come to see him when she got back.

When she left him, Tomás was staring straight ahead with his mouth open and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He raised one of his hands in her direction before letting it fall back into his lap. Maggie knew from the PATH woman that appeals were a long shot, but it was something, and probably the best she could do for now. As she walked back to her office, she was filled with a kind of love for Tommy. But then she thought about the flypaper and the thousands of human flies who were stuck to it, and she hurried back through security to finish what she had started all those months ago.

Her thoughts were racing as she turned down the corridor that led to the director's office, so it took her a moment to realize that the office wasn't empty. Valerie was standing in the open space between the desks. Her hands were on her hips, and her eyes were fixed on Maggie's desktop, where the draft legislation was waiting for the copy machine to warm up.

“You found it!” cried Valerie. “The missing document!”

“It was misfiled,” said Maggie quickly.

“Where?” Valerie wanted to know, but Maggie couldn't tell her without admitting she had snooped in the director's office and found the file in the drawer where he and Valerie left notes for each other.

“It was in the wrong folder,” Maggie said, hoping she wouldn't be pressed for a better answer, but Valerie seemed preoccupied with other things.

“I just came by to make it look like I was here at least some of the time DC was away. You'll cover for me, won't you?”

“Sure,” said Maggie. “Of course I will.”

“I don't want him to know I followed him downstate.”

“You what?”

“Well, he knows I followed him, but I don't want him to know I stayed.”

“I won't say a word.”

“You'll let me tell him I was the one to find the document, won't you?”

“Of course,” said Maggie. “That's no problem at all.”

“Okay, then,” said Valerie. “Close your eyes for a teensy sec.”

Maggie looked out through her lashes as her co-worker took the key to DC's office out of her drawer and filed the report in the gray steel filing cabinet. As soon as Valerie clattered down the hall to the restroom, Maggie took the key from its hiding place, unlocked the office, and removed the file again, along with two other important-looking documents. There was no time to copy them. There was barely time to stuff everything into the grocery bags and hurry out of the office. Valerie would tell the director she had found the missing document, but when he went to look for it, it wouldn't be there. It was Friday, and Monday was a holiday. At most, Maggie had until Tuesday before they figured out what she had done.

“Whoo-ee,” said Hugo when he saw her. “What's the special occasion?”

As Maggie put the two large grocery sacks on the table, she told Hugo about the play-offs and the snacks for the post-game party, all the while batting her lashes and thrusting her hip provocatively out to the side. She tried not to think about the smuggled documents in case Hugo could pick up on thought signals, but sweat was pouring down her back and she was sure he could see that she was hiding something. He looked her up and down appreciatively before turning his attention to her things. “Whoo-ee,” he said again, running his hands up and down the first of the two bulging brown paper sacks as if it were a woman. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself.”

Maggie pretended to be worried that their conversation might be overheard by another guard who was standing by the exit. “Shshsh,” she said. “Anyway, I can't talk now or I'll be late.”

“You're already late,” said Hugo ambiguously.

“You're right,” said Maggie. “The last bus has gone, so I'll either have to call Lyle to pick me up or catch a ride to the ball field. I'm sure one of the other parents can take me home.”

A tiny push was all Hugo needed. A tiny redirection of all that muscle and attention so that Hugo wouldn't even notice she was the one controlling things.

“That's an idea,” said Hugo, removing a package of cookies from one of the bags. “But I'm not sure you should wear that blouse in front of a lot of teenaged boys.”

“I didn't wear it for the boys,” said Maggie.

“If you can wait until the end of my shift, I can take you home.”

There was no time to look too far down the possibility paths before choosing one of them. No time to imagine Hugo's hot hands on the curve of her hip or the cold concrete of the basement floor against her skin or the twin shafts of slanting light from the too-high windows making their way up the wall as the sun sank in the vacant, distant sky before closing her mind to further thought and willing her features to radiate frailty and indecision. She reminded herself that doing good occasionally entailed actions that in other circumstances might be considered questionable and that love and sex were entirely different things. She said, “Or…” as if an idea had just occurred to her. All she needed was for Hugo to think he was the one giving the final push, so she added, “Silly me. No, never mind.”

“What?” asked Hugo. “Never mind what?”

“I was going to say, how about you search me instead of that bag?”

R
ed Bud's annual Glory Dayz festival coincided with the last game of the summer play-offs, and this year most of the town had turned out for the evening barbecue and baseball game. Pastor Price steered Tiffany toward the welcome tent, where three Rainbow Girls were selling raffle tickets to fund their annual project.