Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [87]
“I don’t have that stuff,” Maggie said.
“Yes, you do. I left a bunch of things under your sink last time I was in town.”
Maggie had thrown it all out after a bottle of sandalwood oil leaked onto everything else, leaving a sickly sweet odor behind in her bathroom for weeks.
“Would a Benadryl work?” she asked now, looking in the medicine cabinet to see what she had.
“Sure,” Kathleen said. “But get that other stuff I mentioned too. So, what happened? What has you so freaked out?”
“I have to tell you something pretty huge,” Maggie said. “But first, Gabe and I had a big fight. He told me he doesn’t want to live together. I think we may have broken up for real.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Listen, it’s for the best.” Kathleen spoke quickly, barely pausing between words, as if she were speed-reading from some script on helping the brokenhearted. “I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but trust me. The universe works in mysterious ways.”
Maggie felt sick at this casual comment. She still wanted him to be right for her, wanted Kathleen to say something else, though she knew her mother had never liked Gabe.
Despite her mother’s complaints about Alice, they were shockingly similar in certain ways. They both prided themselves on telling the absolute truth as they saw it, even if it hurt.
“What did you want to tell me?” Kathleen asked.
Maggie leaned against the counter. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Kathleen was rushing to get her off the phone. Why had she assumed that it would be smart to tell her mother? Kathleen would likely go ballistic when she heard the news, telling Maggie that she had ruined her life. She wasn’t going to start sterilizing bottles and knitting booties anytime soon.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m going to Maine anyway, without him.”
“Interesting,” Kathleen said. “Why?”
“I don’t know, I thought it might be good for me, and I’ve taken the time off work.”
“Run straight into the nurturing bosom of your grandmother,” Kathleen said.
“Yeah, right,” Maggie said. “Well, I would go see my mother but she’s up to her elbows in shit.”
“You know there’s always room for you here,” Kathleen said, but she didn’t press the matter.
“I miss you,” Maggie said.
“I miss you too. You’re about the only thing I miss from back there. How are the hives?”
Maggie looked down. “On one side they’re gone, and on the other side they’re fading. That was fast.”
“Hives are weird like that.”
“How are you able to diagnose over the phone?” Maggie asked. “Who taught you?”
“No one taught me, I’m just a mother,” Kathleen said. “You’ll be the same way someday.”
That was Maggie’s chance to tell her, but her mouth felt dry; she couldn’t form the words.
“Go lie down for a bit, and then maybe take a long walk on the Promenade,” Kathleen said. “Be very kind to yourself, okay? Call me anytime today if you need to. And let me know once you get to Maine tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“And give my best to Malice.”
“Mom—”
“Sorry. Alice.”
That afternoon, Maggie was lying on the couch when she heard a commotion in the hallway. She pictured Gabe climbing the steps, suitcase in hand. She got up quickly and looked through the peephole.
Her neighbor Rhiannon was lugging a bookcase up the stairs. She looked amazing in her grubby T-shirt and shorts. She probably hadn’t even showered. Her toned upper arms were straight out of a magazine photograph. Maggie made a mental note about bicep exercises.
Despite her desire to get back into bed, she poked her head out.
“Need some help?”
“Can you get the door?” Rhiannon asked. “It’s unlocked.”
Maggie left her own door ajar and pushed Rhiannon’s forward. The apartment was laid out exactly like her own, but instead of hand-me-down china from her aunt Clare and the stained sofa and love seat on long-term loan from her mother, here there were beautiful grown-up pieces of furniture and a row of elegant handblown