The Silent Waters (24 page)

Maggie told me she hadn’t been feeling well the past few days and refused to see me. I tried my best to talk her into having me visit, but whenever I showed up, her mom sent me away, saying she needed more time to heal.

After band practice one afternoon, I didn’t give her much of a choice.

“You’re not really sick, are you?” I asked, catching her walking out of the bathroom before she got back to her room. Her eyes widened as she stared my way, and I saw a tinge of panic. “Are you mad at me?” I swallowed hard, growing nervous. Had I done something wrong? “Is it because I told you I loved you? Was it too soon? Did I freak you out? I’m sorry, I just…”

She shook her head back and forth and rushed over to me, taking my hands into hers. She squeezed once.
No.

“Then what is it?”

She looked up into my eyes and hers started watering over. She began to sob, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I held her. I held her close to my chest, and she fell apart in my arms as I collected all of her pieces.

“Music?” I asked her.

She nodded, and we walked to her bedroom, closing the door behind us. She started calming down as we listened to the music playing. We lay on the bed, and it wasn’t long after she fell asleep in my arms that her nightmares began. When she woke, she was so close to me, yet felt a million miles away.

“Maggie, you can talk to me,” I swore, pacing her room as she awakened from a dream that had pushed her to sobbing tears. She sat up in a ball on her bed, rocking back and forth, not looking my way.

When I moved closer to her, she flinched, almost as if she feared my touch, almost as if she thought I’d hurt her. “Maggie,” I begged, my voice and heart cracking. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t say anything.

“We can do five minutes,” I said, bending down in front of her. “Magnet, we can do five minutes. Focus, all right? You can come back to me. It’s okay.”

She kept swallowing hard with her hands clenched to her neck. Her eyes were wild, and I knew she was too far gone to hear me.

“Mr. Riley!” I shouted through the house. “Mr. Riley!” I shouted again, running through the house. When he came out of his bedroom, he looked at me with his eyes wide and full of concern.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Maggie. She’s in her bedroom. I don’t know what’s happening. She’s just…”

He didn’t wait for me to reply. He launched up the stairs to where his daughter was having a meltdown. Mrs. Riley was there, too, a few seconds later.

“Mags,” he said, his approach slow and cautious. “You’re okay,” Mr. Riley assured her. The closer he grew, the more she tensed up, but he didn’t stop moving in on her. He held his hands up, showing he wouldn’t hurt her, and when he was close enough, he wrapped her in his arms and held her against his chest. She clung to his t-shirt and pulled him close, sobbing into his arms.

What happened to you?

My mind was racing as I watched her fall apart against her father. My gut was in knots, hating the fact that I wasn’t able to protect her. Why couldn’t I fix her? Why couldn’t I take her pain and make it my own? He carried her downstairs, and I followed.

Calvin and Stacey walked into the front door laughing together, their arms wrapped tight around each other. When they saw the commotion, their laughter came to a halt.

“What’s going on?” Calvin asked.

Mr. Riley didn’t respond. He just carried Maggie to his bedroom. Mrs. Riley followed closely behind him.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Calvin walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were narrowed and confused. “Brooks? What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” I said. My throat was dry and my chest was on fire. “She woke up and…freaked out. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop her from…” My eyes watered over, and I pressed the palms of my hands against my face. I couldn’t talk anymore. Calvin didn’t push me to say anything. He and Stacey simply walked over to me, wrapped their arms around my body, and held me up.

I hated the comfort they were giving me, though, because Maggie needed it more.

She needed someone to fall into her memories and erase the dark waters she swam in each day.

I sat on the staircase, waiting for Maggie’s parents to come out of their room. Cheryl, Calvin, and Stacey joined me.

We didn’t say a word. I kept flipping through my iPod, searching for some kind of music that could make her feel better. Music always made her smile.

When the bedroom door opened, we all shot up. Mr. and Mrs. Riley frowned our way.

“She’s sleeping again,” Mr. Riley said.

“Can I see her?” I asked. I held up my iPod toward Mr. Riley. “I just think some music might help. It always helps her.”

His lips parted, but Mrs. Riley cut in. “I think everyone should call it a night.” She ran her fingers through her hair, and Mr. Riley shut his mouth.

I started to argue, but Mrs. Riley gave me a tired expression, so I nodded my head. “Well, if you could just give it to her, Mr. R, just in case it can help her? I don’t need it right now.” I handed my iPod to him, and he gave me a forced smile.

Everyone headed into their own rooms, and I was forced to leave. I hated the feeling in my gut, I hated not know how she was doing. How was I supposed to walk away without knowing if she was okay?

“Brooks, can I speak with you for a second?” Mrs. Riley asked as I walked toward the front door. Her arms were crossed and her eyes heavy.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

She glanced around the room, making sure everyone had departed, then stepped closer to me. “I want you to know…Maggie’s sick. She might not look it, but her mind…” She frowned. “Whatever happened to her all those years ago, it affected her. Even on the days she seems okay, there’s a big part of her that’s missing. I know you like her, but being in a relationship with her… I don’t think that’s smart. She’s broken.”

I would’ve been lying if I’d said I wasn’t taken aback by her words. She spoke about her daughter as if she were a freak, an outcast. Yeah, Maggie had a few bad days, but who didn’t? Glancing around the corner, I saw Maggie peeking out of her parents’ bedroom, listening in. I gave her a smile, and she gave me a frown. Before that moment I hadn’t known a frown could be more beautiful than a smile. “Not all broken things need to be fixed. Sometimes they just need to be loved. It would be a shame if only people who were whole were deserving of love.”

“Brooks.” She sighed, as if my words were pointless. “You’re young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. I can’t help but think you’ll hold yourself back trying to have Maggie feel included. You’re going off to Los Angeles next week for your music career, where you’re going to have all these new experiences—”

“Maggie and I have new experiences every day.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to have new opportunities, bigger opportunities.”

“So will she.”

Mrs. Riley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re not getting it, Brooks. Maggie’s not leaving this house. Ever. I know you’re trying to be hopeful, but now’s the time to be logical. You should break things off with her before you do more damage.”

“She’ll leave. I know she will. We’ve spoken about it, you know. She has dreams, too, just like you and me. She has dreams.”

“Look. Brooks…I get that she’s your friend, and I get that you like to share your music with her, but that’s not going to help her. A relationship needs more than music to exist. It needs meat, not just bones. Maggie can’t give you what you’ll need for a real relationship.”

“You don’t know what I need.”

“With all due respect, I know what you don’t need. You’re young and in love, I get it, but Maggie’s not the best fit for you.”

My chest was tight, and I knew if I stayed a second longer, I’d say something I’d regret. I glanced up at where Maggie was standing, but she was gone, so I opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, turning my back to Mrs. Riley.

“I’m sorry, Brooks, but this is for the best.”

Turning to face her one more time, I snapped. “With all due respect, Mrs. Riley, I think you’re wrong about her. Maggie’s smart. She’s so smart, kind, and expressive, even without words. She says so much when you can’t hear her. Yeah, her mind is busy, but it’s deeper than any ocean. She sees things in different ways than most, but why is that a bad thing? And you’re wrong about music, too. If you think for a second music can’t heal people, then you’re not listening closely enough.”

I started on my way, my heart racing.

“She tried to kill herself,” Mrs. Riley shouted, making me pause my steps.

I turned back, denial running through my mind. “No.”

“Yes, she did. I know I probably seem like the big bad wolf, but she’s not okay. You were right, her mind is deeper than any ocean, but one day the tides are going to rise so high, she’ll have no choice but to drown.”

She tried to kill herself.

I couldn’t breathe.

She tried to kill herself.

She wouldn’t.

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

I walked around the neighborhood, lap after lap after lap. I kept thinking maybe I’d done something wrong. Maybe the way I had held her or touched her had sparked a flashback. Maybe I’d said something wrong.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Mrs. Boone asked me from her porch as I did another lap around the neighborhood, trying to clear my head. I stopped in front of her house as Muffins rolled back and forth in the grass. “When she has her meltdowns.”

“How did you know?”

She smiled and glided back and forth in her wicker rocking chair. “I know Maggie, and I know the look on people’s faces when she falls apart. I’ve seen it on her parents’ faces more than I’d like to admit. Now come on up here. Take a break. Come inside and I’ll make you some tea.”

I arched an eyebrow.
Inside?
I hadn’t ever seen Mrs. Boone invite someone into her house. Half of me thought if I walked in she might kill me, but the other half was way too curious about what it’d be like inside her home.

Her screen door squeaked as she opened it. She held it wide for me to walk inside, following closely behind me. “You can wait here in the living room. I’ll go heat up some water,” she said, walking toward her kitchen.

I paced around the living room, looking at her home. Her house was a museum; every piece of artwork looked like it was from the 1800s, and every statue sat behind a glass casing. Everything was polished and clean, and seemed to be in its rightful place.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I asked.

“I’ve been making tea for years and never needed help.”

I wiped my hand across her fireplace mantel, my fingers collecting dust, and I frowned. I wiped my hand against my jeans. Her fireplace was the only place in the room with dust. It was almost as if she collected every inch of filth and dropped it on the mantel.
Strange.
I lifted up one of the dust-covered frames and stared at Mrs. Boone with a man I assumed was her husband. She sat in his lap, smiling up at him as he smiled at her. I’d never seen Mrs. Boone smile the way she smiled in the photograph.

I picked up another photo, one where the couple stood on a boating dock with a child in front of them, who was laughing in the picture. The transition of the girl growing in the photos was hard to watch. She went from a smiling kid to someone who frowned, to someone who displayed no emotion at all. Her eyes looked so empty. There had to be over thirty frames packed on the fireplace, each picture showing different moments from Mrs. Boone’s past.

“Who’s the girl? In the photos?” I asked.

She peeked into the room before stepping back into the kitchen. “Jessica. My daughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“Did you ever ask?”

“No.”

“That’s why you didn’t know. You stupid kids never ask questions. All you do is talk, talk, talk, and no one ever listens.” She walked back into the living room, fidgeting with her fingers before sitting on her couch. “The water is heating.”

I picked up a dust-covered record and blew off some of the grime. “
Sittin’ On The Dock Of The Bay,
by Otis Redding?” I asked.