Maybe Now (Maybe Someday part two)

by Colleen Hoover

  I don’t want to think I’d be like that. “More reason to let them know how much we appreciate them.”

  Warren kicks at a leaf on Maggie’s mattress and then bends to pick it up. “I let Bridgette know how much I appreciate her all night last night.” He grins, and I take that as my cue to head back down to the U-Haul.

  On my way down the stairs, I receive a text. I look at my phone and pause on the steps when I see that it’s from Sydney. It’s a group text with Warren and me.

  Sydney: At the DQ drive-thru down the road. Anyone want a Blizzard?

  Warren: Does a one-legged dog swim in a circle? I’ll take a Reese’s.

  Ridge: M&M please.

  I look down at the U-Haul in the parking lot and watch Maggie walk up the ramp and disappear inside of it. This is one of the weird moments we’re going to have to learn to navigate. I need to remind Sydney that Maggie is here and she might want one. But it feels weird to remind Sydney to include her. It’s probably not as weird as anything else that’s happened in the last two weeks of us dating. And part of me struggles with what to say to Maggie and whether I should even offer her ice cream, knowing she isn’t supposed to have a lot of sugar. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up her health right now. I’m trying to keep my distance with the hope that she’s stepping up and taking control on her own.

  Right in the middle of my internal struggle, Maggie sends a text through to the group.

  Maggie: I’ll take a large Diet Dr. Pepper. Thanks!

  I didn’t even realize Sydney included her in the group text. But of course, she did. Every time any of this starts to feel awkward, Sydney somehow alleviates that awkwardness before it’s even able to fully set in.

  I walk to the U-Haul, and Maggie is all the way inside of it, digging in her top dresser drawer. She’s throwing stuff on top of the dresser, in search of something. She finds the shirt that she’s looking for and stuffs it in a bag. She looks up and sees me standing at the opening of the U-Haul.

  “Can you grab this suitcase and bring it up?”

  I nod and she signs, “Thank you,” then walks out of the U-Haul and heads toward the stairs to the apartment. I walk over to the dresser to grab the suitcase from on top of it, but I pause when I see a sheet of paper on the floor of the U-Haul. I bend to pick it up. I don’t want to be invasive, so I set it on top of the dresser, but it’s unfolded and I can see that it’s a list. At the top, it says, Things I Want To Do, but the title next to it is scratched out and written over. I pick it up, even though I probably shouldn’t.

  There are three out of the nine things on the list scratched out: skydive, drive a racecar, and have a one-night stand.

  I know she went skydiving, but when did she race a car? And when did she have a…

  Never mind. Not my business.

  I read the rest of the items on the list, remembering how she used to talk about some of these things to me. I always hated that she had so many things she was so adamant about doing, because I always felt like I had to be the voice of reason and it would put her in a bad mood.

  I lean against the dresser, staring down at it. We planned on a trip to Europe once. It was right after I finished my second year in college, about four years ago. I was terrified for her to go because even being in such closed quarters on an international flight for ten hours was enough to put her health at risk. Not to mention the change in oxygen levels and atmosphere and being in a touristy area and in a country with hospitals that aren’t familiar with her medical history. I tried so hard to talk her out of it, but she got her way because I honestly couldn’t blame her for wanting to see the world. And I didn’t want to be that one thing that was holding her back.

  But in the end, it wasn’t me who held her back from actually going. It was a lung infection she contracted that landed her in the hospital for seventeen days. It was the sickest I’d ever seen her, and the entire time she was in the hospital, I couldn’t help but feel nothing but relief that she hadn’t come down with the illness in Europe.

  After that, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of an international trip. Maybe I should have. I realize that now, after knowing how much she resented my caution. And honestly, I don’t blame her. Her life is not my life, and even though my only goal was to give her life more length, all she’s ever wanted is a life with more substance.

  I can see movement out of the corner of my eye, so I turn and look up, just as Sydney makes her way up the ramp to the U-Haul with two Blizzards in her hands. She’s wearing one of my Sounds of Cedar T-shirts, and it’s hanging off her shoulder because it’s too big for her. If I had my way, she’d wear one of my shirts every day for the rest of our lives. I love this effortless look on her.

  She smiles and hands me one of the Blizzards. She pulls the spoon out of hers and licks ice cream from it, then closes her mouth over the spoon.

  I grin. “I think I like yours better, and I don’t even know what flavor you got.”

  She smiles and stands on her tiptoes, kissing me briefly on the lips. “Oreo,” she says. She pokes at her ice cream with her spoon and nods her head toward the sheet of paper I’m still holding. “What’s that?”

  I look down at the list, wondering if it’s my place to even share something like this with her since it isn’t mine. “Maggie’s bucket list. It was on the floor.” I set it down on the dresser and grab the suitcase. “Thank you for the ice cream.” I kiss her on the cheek and make my way out of the U-Haul. When I turn around to see if she’s following me, she isn’t.

  She’s picking up the sheet of paper.

  When I was eight years old, we went on a road trip to California. My father stopped at Carlsbad Caverns National Park just in time for the bat flight. I was scared to death and hated every second of it.

  When I was eleven, we spent two weeks on a train tour of Europe. We saw the Eiffel Tower, we went to Rome, we visited London. I have the picture of my mother and me on my refrigerator that my father took of us in front of Big Ben.

  I’ve been to Vegas once with Tori. We went for my twenty-first birthday and stayed one night because we couldn’t afford more than that, and Hunter was upset that I was gone on my birthday.

  I’ve done several things that are on Maggie’s bucket list, and while I didn’t take the trips for granted, I certainly don’t think I appreciated them enough. I’ve never thought about writing a bucket list or what would even be on it if I did. I don’t plan that far ahead.

  That’s just the thing, though. Neither does Maggie. But far ahead for her and far ahead for me have two completely different meanings.

  I set my Blizzard on top of the dresser and stare at number seven on the list. Bungee jump.

  I’ve never been bungee jumping. I can’t say that it would have been a bucket list item for me, but the fact that it’s a bucket list item for Maggie and she asked me to join her gives the entire sentiment a whole new meaning.

  I fold the list and grab my ice cream, then make my way out of the U-Haul and up to Ridge’s apartment. Ridge is in the kitchen with Warren. They’re leaning against the counter, finishing their ice cream. Bridgette is probably taking a shower because she smelled like chicken wings. I walk to Maggie’s bedroom, and she’s kneeling in front of her suitcase, rifling through it. She looks up to see me standing in the doorway.

  “Can I come in?”

  She nods, so I walk in and sit on her mattress. I set my cup on the floor next to the mattress and pick up her list. “Found this,” I say, holding it up for her to see. She’s just a few feet away, so she reaches over and grabs it, then glances down at it. She makes a face like it’s as useless as trash and then tosses it on the bed.

  “I was a big dreamer.” She gives her full attention back to her suitcase.

  “This might make you think less of me,” I say. “But I’ve been to Paris, and I probably shouldn’t admit this, but the Eiffel Tower looks just like a really big transmission tower. It’s kind of underwhelming.”

  Maggie laughs.
“Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t admit that to anyone else.” She folds the top of her suitcase shut and then moves to the bed, lying down on her stomach. She grabs the list and pulls it in front of her. “I crossed off three of these in one day.”

  I remember the day she went skydiving because it wasn’t that long ago. Which means…the one-night stand wasn’t that long ago, either. I’m curious about it, but I’m not sure we’re at a point where I want to ask about her sex life.

  “Most of the other ones I wrote down are a little far-fetched. I get sick too easily and too often to travel internationally.”

  I look at the Vegas one. “Why would you want to lose five grand instead of win five grand?”

  She rolls onto her back and looks up at me. “If I had five grand to lose, it means I’d be rich. Being rich is an inadvertent item on my bucket list.”

  I laugh. “Do you plan on doing anything else on the list other than bungee jump?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s really hard for me to travel. I’ve tried it a couple of times and never made it very far. I have too much medical equipment. Too many medications to worry about. It’s really not all that fun for me, but I didn’t realize it when I wrote the list.”

  I hate that for her. I almost want to alter a couple of these just so she can mark more of them out. “How far are you able to travel without it being an inconvenience?”

  She shrugs. “Day trips are cool. And I could probably go somewhere for a couple of nights, but there’s nowhere around here I haven’t already been. Why?”

  “One sec.” I stand up and walk to the living room and grab a pen and spiral notebook off the table. I walk it back to Maggie’s room, feeling Ridge and Warren watching me the whole time. I turn around and smile at them before walking back to Maggie’s bed. I place her bucket list on the spiral notebook. “I think with a little modification, these are all doable.”

  Maggie lifts up onto her elbow, curious as to what I’m doing. “What kind of modification?”

  I scroll down the list. I stop on Carlsbad Caverns. “What interests you about Carlsbad? The bats or the caves?”

  “The caves,” she says. “I’ve seen the bat flights here in Austin a dozen times.”

  “Okay,” I say, drawing an open parenthesis next to Carlsbad Caverns on the list. “You could go to the Inner Space Cavern in Georgetown. Probably not nearly as cool as Carlsbad, but it’s definitely a cave.”

  Maggie stares at the list for a moment. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m crossing a line by writing on her bucket list. I almost hand her back the list and apologize, but she leans over and points at the Eiffel Tower. “There’s a mock Eiffel Tower in Paris, Texas.”

  I smile when she says that, because it means we’re on the same page. I write “Eiffel tower in Paris, Texas” next to number nine.

  I scroll the list again with the pen and then pause at number three. See the Northern Lights. “Have you ever heard of the Marfa lights in West Texas?”

  Maggie shakes her head.

  “Doubt it’s even remotely the same, but I’ve heard you can camp out there and watch them.”

  “Interesting,” Maggie says. “Write it down.” I write Marfa lights in parentheses next to Northern Lights. She points to number four. Eat Spaghetti in Italy. “Isn’t there a town somewhere in Texas called Italy?”

  “Yeah, but it’s really small. Not even sure they’d have an Italian restaurant, but it’s close to Corsicana, so you could get spaghetti to go and take it to a park in Italy.”

  Maggie laughs. “That sounds really pathetic, but definitely doable.”

  “What else?” I ask, scrolling the list. She’s already apparently driven a racecar and had a one-night stand, which we’ve successfully avoided discussing. The only thing left that we haven’t modified is Vegas. I point to it with the pen. “There are casinos right outside of Paris, TX. Technically, you could just go there after visiting the fake Eiffel Tower. And maybe you should”—I scratch out two of the zeros—“only lose fifty dollars instead of five grand.”

  “There are casinos in Oklahoma?” she asks.

  “Huge ones.”

  Maggie pulls the list from me and looks it over. She smiles while she reads it, then pulls the notebook and pen from my hands. She places the list on top of the notebook. At the top of the list, it reads, “Things I want to do. Maybe one of these days…”

  Maggie scratches out part of the title so that the list reads, “Things I want to do. Maybe Now.”

  I was scolded today.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen my doctor since she walked out of my hospital room—right before I bailed. The first half of my appointment today was spent apologizing to her and promising to take things more seriously from now on. The second half of my appointment was spent with different specialists. When you have Cystic Fibrosis, your team comes to you in one central location, as it’s not safe to sit in the different waiting rooms for each specialist. It’s one of the things I love about my doctor that I didn’t get the full benefits of while living in San Antonio. I really do feel like my health will be easier to maintain now that I’m back in Austin. I just have to quit letting my frustration over this illness win out over my will. Which is hard, because I’m very easily frustrated.

  I’ve been gone most of the day, but when I pull back up to the apartment, I’m surprised to see Ridge’s car here. He’s been staying at Sydney’s the majority of the week. Today is Friday, and I was supposed to move tomorrow, but it’s been pushed back to Sunday. I’m sure Ridge will be happy to have his own bed again.

  Or not. I doubt he’s all that upset about spending so much time at Sydney’s.

  When I open the living room door, they’re both on the couch. Ridge is holding a book in front of him, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Sydney is leaning against him, looking at the words on the pages as he reads aloud.

  Ridge is reading. Out loud.

  I stare at them for a moment. He struggles with a word, and Sydney makes him look at her as she sounds it out for him. She’s helping him pronounce the words out loud. It’s such an intimate moment, I want to be anywhere else when I close the door and gain Sydney’s attention. She looks up and then sits up straight, putting a little distance between herself and Ridge. I notice. So does he, because he stops reading and follows Sydney’s gaze until he sees me.

  “Hey.” I smile and set my purse on the bar.

  “Hi,” Sydney says. “How was the appointment?”

  I shrug. “Overall, it was good. But I spent most of it being scolded.” I grab a water out of the refrigerator and then head toward the bedroom I’m staying in. “I deserved it, though.” I walk to my room and close the door. I fall down onto the bed because it’s the only thing in here. There isn’t even a dresser or a TV or a chair. Just me and a bed and a living room I feel slightly uncomfortable in.

  Not because Ridge is in there with Sydney. I honestly don’t mind seeing them together. The only thing that bothers me about it is that seeing them together reminds me of Jake, and I feel a sting of jealousy that it’s not me and Jake cuddled together on a couch somewhere. I feel like Ridge and Sydney fit together in a way that’s similar to how Jake and I fit together. Or could have fit together.

  It’s interesting to me, looking back, just how wrong Ridge and I were for each other. And it isn’t at all because anything is necessarily wrong with us as individuals. We just didn’t bring out the best sides of each other. Not like Sydney does with him. I mean, he’s sitting on a couch, reading to her. And he’s doing it because it’s his way of perfecting his speaking voice. That’s not a side of him I ever brought out. Or even encouraged. We’ve had conversations in the past about why he doesn’t verbalize, but he always just shrugged it off and said he didn’t like doing it. I never asked for a deeper explanation than that.

  I remember the day I was in the hospital and found all the messages between him and Sydney. I didn’t read them all in that moment because I honestly didn’t want to. I
was hurt and a little blindsided. But once I made it home, I read every word. More than once. And the conversation that hurt me the most was when Ridge explained to Sydney where the band Sounds Of Cedar got its name.

  The reason it hurt so much is because I realized, in all the years we’d been dating, I’d never once asked Ridge where the band name came from. And because of that, I’d never known exactly how much he’d done for Brennan when they were younger.

  There was a lot I read that I once wished I’d never read between the two of them. Between all the iMessages and Facebook messages, I sat there for hours reading. But reading all of it also made something very clear to me: There was so much more to Ridge than I was aware of. There were things he shared with Sydney over a short period of knowing her that he never once shared with me over a six-year stretch. And that wasn’t because Ridge was hiding anything from me about himself or his past, or lying in any way. There were just things about both of us we never dug deep enough to figure out. It occurred to me that maybe we didn’t share those things because they were sacred to us. And you only share the really sacred stuff with the people who reach you on that deep of a level.

  I didn’t reach Ridge on the level that Sydney did. And Ridge didn’t reach me.

  I ultimately decided to end our relationship because of their connection. Not because they had formed it…but because Ridge and I never had.

  People are supposed to bring out the best in each other. I didn’t bring out the best in Ridge. He didn’t bring out the best in me. But seeing Sydney on the couch with him just now, helping him… She brings out the best in him.

  I noticed how she pulled away from him a little when she realized I was in the room with them. It bothers me that she felt she needed to do that. I want her to know that their physical affection is not something they should feel obligated to hide on my account. I actually, in a weird way, like seeing how much they like each other. It gives me even more reassurance that I made the right choice by not allowing Ridge to use my illness as a reason to stay with me.