Within This Frame

by Zart, Lindy

Tears burned her eyes. Maggie looked down as they made themselves known, sliding across her cheeks as proof of a love once known, and never forgotten, no matter how briefly it was theirs to hold. She nodded, her throat thick, and moved away from Lance. His words echoed through her head, all the things she’d wanted to hear at one time. He was right—they’d ruined one another.

  Maggie met his eyes, saw the pain she knew was mirrored in hers. For something that occurred so long ago, it felt the same as a fresh wound.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “For what?” He swallowed, dropping his gaze.

  “I gave up on you.”

  Lance laughed and shook his head. “You had to. I didn’t give you a choice.”

  “When you love someone,” she said in an uneven voice. “You don’t give up on them, no matter how justified it is. I could have tried better to understand. To be there for you in some capacity, even if it was only as someone who’d once loved you.”

  “You hated me.” The rawness of his expression told Maggie he’d never gotten over her saying that to him, and that hurt her.

  “I always loved you, Lance,” Maggie confessed, conviction filling and lowering her voice.

  Lance took a ragged breath of air. “I always loved you too, Maggie.”

  I love you now, her head and heart whispered. But what she said was, “We were idiots.”

  A sad smile touched his lips. “We were young.”

  “We’re not anymore.”

  “No. Well,” he amended. “I hope we’re not idiots anymore.”

  Then he smiled, and it was like the first time he smiled at her, over a dozen years ago, the smile her soul felt, and reciprocated. It was sweet, and hopeful, and full of insecurities and arrogance. It was Lance.

  “Why did you really decide to do this, become a personal trainer?”

  The smile faded and Lance looked down. “I told you.”

  “You did, but there’s more to it, right? You did it . . .” Maggie swallowed as he met her gaze. “You did it because of me.”

  “Not because of you. For you. Call it penance, or a need to understand, but yeah, when I decided what I wanted to do with my life, you were in the back of my head.”

  Maggie reached for him and Lance crushed her to him, holding her so tightly it hurt to breathe. She didn’t think about the future, or what his departure would do to her. Maggie refused to dwell on anything outside of that hug, and the way she cherished his warmth and strength, the way Lance held her back, like she was fragile and precious to him.

  “Thank you,” she said in a wobbly voice.

  “It wasn’t like I did it for free,” he gently teased.

  “Thank you,” Maggie repeated.

  Lance held her closer. “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s about time,” her dad exclaimed good-naturedly from one room over. “We’re starving in here!”

  They pulled away, Maggie laughing as Lance smiled.

  “We should eat before the food gets cold,” Lance whispered.

  “It’s probably already cold,” she whispered back.

  “We should go in there before one of them comes out for us—again.”

  “Please do,” Maggie’s mom called.

  It felt natural to hold hands as they entered the dining room, and when they sat down beside one another, everyone pretended like they hadn’t been listening in on the entirety of their conversation, voices loud and exuberant as they talked about nonsensical matters.

  With the dim lighting, blush-toned walls, candlelit meal, and happy chatter, Maggie enjoyed her family, and Lance.

  LANCE—1998

  IT WAS A MONTH before she called him.

  Lance was watching an episode of their show, that in itself proof that he had issues. Seeing Maggie onscreen helped, and made him miss her more. Cold pizza sat half-eaten in a box on the couch next to him. He scratched his jaw stubble, not sure when he’d last shaved, or showered.

  Not getting many phone calls those days, at first the shrill sound of the ringing phone confused him. When it sank in what the noise was and that it could be Maggie on the other end, Lance dove for it, banging the receiver against his mouth.

  “Hello?” he answered, his heart pounding, hands shaking.

  “Hi.” Her voice was soft.

  Lance tightened his grip on the phone, closing his eyes. “Hi.”

  “How have you been?” Maggie whispered the words, but he felt the scarring of them all the way to his core. Even hearing her voice hurt.

  “Not good,” Lance said. A part of him, the light and energy and joy, was gone without Maggie.

  He heard the sad smile in her voice as she replied, “Me either.”

  “What have . . .” He swallowed, throat dry. “What have you been doing?”

  “Just hanging out with my family, mostly. Getting all my schoolwork finished for the year.” Maggie paused. “Did you see the article on the show in TV News?”

  “No. I’ve been . . . busy.” Busy drinking, trying to forget what he was missing, moping around, obsessing over Maggie. Busy. “What did it say?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. You’re charming. Tabitha is beautiful. I’m . . . not so beautiful but a truly gifted actress.”

  Lance’s pulse tripped. Over the years, instead of getting used to the media, Maggie resented it more and more. She gave it too much authority over her as a person.

  “It didn’t say that.”

  “No.” Maggie sighed. “But it was there, between the lines. It’s always there.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said brokenly, fervently, picturing her expressive eyes, porcelain skin, and fiery hair. She was uniquely beautiful, and that was better than being a copy of somebody else’s beauty, like Tabitha. There were lots of blonds with blue eyes, and only one Maggie.

  “Thank you. I needed to hear that. I needed to hear your voice,” she added.

  “Come back,” he pleaded. “I am a wreck, Maggie. This was a horrible idea. Please come back. I didn’t want this.”

  She didn’t answer for a long time. “But you did, whether you want to admit it or not. You did. I’ll come back in another month, and we can talk then.” Her voice shook.

  Anger pulsed through his veins. Lance slammed a fist against the pizza box and it toppled over to land on the floor. “This is bull shit and you know it. You’re trying to punish me for having doubts.”

  “No,” she insisted in a ragged voice. “I’m trying to give you space so you don’t have those doubts anymore.”

  Lance didn’t know what to say to that. His throat worked, but no sound came forth.

  “Goodbye, Lance.”

  No ‘I love you’. Just a goodbye and then a dial tone.

  Lance called her on her eighteenth birthday. She answered, but was distant and the phone call ended up making him feel like they were more strangers than boyfriend and girlfriend. Did it really only take weeks of separation to fall out of love? Was that what was happening? And if it was, what did that say about them?

  Maggie called on his nineteenth birthday, a few weeks after the first time she called. Lance didn’t answer the phone. He finished styling his hair in the bathroom as her voice played from the answering machine in the living room. Lance’s image was pale and hollow-eyed. It felt like they’d already broken up. He’d needed her, and she’d stayed away. Maggie broke his heart and she didn’t even know.

  Lance turned from the mirror, erased the message, and left.

  Donovan Randolph had been Lance’s friend since they were four and their dads decided to combine their solo lawyer firms into ‘Denton and Randolph’. Short and stocky, Donovan had a blindingly white smile that could get him any girl and piercing green eyes set in a mocha-toned face that worked to help his boyish appeal. Lance was in wonderment of him on a routine basis.

  The party was going strong when Lance got to Donovan’s, the deck and pool area cramped with people. Richard Randolph’s house was three levels of gray-blue siding with large w
indows. A glance through one of them showed people dancing and talking, most of the space taken over by teenage bodies. Lance’s eardrums thrummed with bass and drums as he moved down the walkway to the back of the house and climbed the steps to his birthday celebration. Lanterns swung from the railing of the deck and lit up the night.

  Donovan spotted him immediately, saying something to the girl beside him before heading for him. His green eyes wavered between humor and concern. “Happy Birthday, and for the record, you look like shit.”

  Lance gave him a dark smile. “Celebrating without the honored guest? Tacky.” He took Donovan’s beer and slammed it, wiping an arm across his mouth.

  “Dude, really?” Donovan motioned to the empty cup Lance returned.

  “Didn’t you know that this is what happens when you accidentally fall in love?” he questioned, gesturing to his face.

  “I don’t want to fall in love if I’ll end up looking like you.”

  “Most people would love to look like me.”

  “Yeah, well, not me. I’m good.” Donovan turned as a cheer erupted. A girl was in the process of removing her bra and panties, dancing close to the edge of the pool.

  “Shit. I really don’t want to make her stop, but if she takes off her bra and underwear, then the next move is to jump in the pool.” He looked at Lance. “My dad said no one is to use the pool—he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, adding that he is out of town and knows nothing of this party, should it get out of hand. I said what good is his profession to me if it can’t even make a few tickets disappear? He didn’t find that funny.”

  Lance grinned. “I can’t imagine why.”

  The sound of a body hitting water followed his words, and with a groan, Donovan took off, waving his arms and yelling that the next person to get in the pool was going to get kicked out. Someone stepped forward and shoved him into the water, laughter and shouts drowning out Donovan’s curses. The naked girl wrapped her arms around his neck and he quieted, allowing her to kiss him.

  Lance shook his head and strode for the bar. He needed a beer.

  Hands covered his eyes, and for one stunning moment, he thought it was Maggie. The perfume reached him, and then the voice, and the tiny hope died.

  “Guess who.”

  “Tabitha.” Lance heard the disappointment in his voice. He took a deep drink of the sweet and bitter beer and faced her.

  Her hair was up in a high ponytail, a cutoff purple shirt showcasing her slim waist, and tight blue jeans accentuated the long limbs they covered. She shrugged. “Happy Birthday.”

  He nodded, finishing the beer in two long swallows. “Best birthday ever,” he lied.

  “I haven’t seen you much since the yacht party. How are things with you and Maggie?” she questioned, leaning her back against the railing.

  “Why?” he growled, getting another beer.

  Tabitha’s thin eyebrows lifted. “I take it things are not going well.”

  “Again, why?”

  She looked at her fingernails. “Just making conversation. Isn’t that what friends do?”

  Lance swung around to put his face next to hers. He stared into her blue eyes. “We are not friends.”

  Her face scrunched up and she stomped to the bar. Drink in hand, Tabitha spun on her heel and glared at him.

  “How did you get invited to this anyway?” he asked, watching her with hooded eyes.

  Tabitha didn’t answer until the beer was gone. Making a face, she got a second. “I hate the taste of beer.”

  “Then why are you drinking it?”

  “Because I want to,” she snapped, emptying the beer and going for another. “Donovan’s dad knows my mom. They dated in high school or something. I was a pity invite.”

  “Don’t you think you should slow down?”

  Tabitha chugged the beer, swaying on her feet as she lowered it. “Don’t you think you should catch up?”

  The challenge was clear, and after a second of consideration, Lance accepted.

  “My boyfriend dumped me yesterday,” Tabitha slurred some time later. They were on a bench tucked away in a corner, the party alive around them.

  “I don’t think I have a girlfriend anymore.” Lance dropped his head back and stared at the starry sky.

  “How can you not know that?”

  He slowly turned his head and found Tabitha staring at him.

  “He cheated on me.” She blinked her eyes and the momentary sadness he’d seen in them was gone. “They always cheat on me. What’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re a bitch,” Lance told her, and then went still. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Tabitha’s scowl turned into a smile and she laughed, facing forward. “That I am.”

  “Ready for another?” Lance straightened on the seat and tried to stand, his legs uncooperative. “I think my legs are drunk.”

  Giggling, she put an arm around his waist. “I think that means it’s time to stop drinking, which means you should keep drinking. Come on, birthday boy, tonight is not the night to make good decisions.”

  “It isn’t?” Lance asked, swaying on his feet.

  Tabitha didn’t answer, holding him up as he tried to hold her up. They staggered toward the party, both getting another drink. Lance could barely stand, arms resting along the railing so he didn’t fall on his face. Tabitha wasn’t much better, her feet moving forward and back of their own accord. She laughed, and even though Lance had no idea what she was laughing at, he laughed as well.

  The rest of the night became a blur of alcohol, Tabitha, and darkness.

  MAGGIE—2010

  AS SOON AS she stepped into the kitchen, she was awarded a stunning smile. Hair unkempt, clothed in a worn shirt and shorts, Lance couldn’t have looked better if he was in a suit. Maggie swallowed thickly, feeling the smile in her heart. She was going to miss his smiles.

  “Good morning, Maggie,” he greeted.

  “Good morning, Lance.”

  “You look nice.”

  Face reddening, Maggie nodded in thanks. Deciding to wear a legitimate outfit instead of workout clothes, she’d dressed in a pale pink sundress and kept her hair down.

  “You don’t,” she joked weakly.

  Lance laughed. “I had a late start this morning. I didn’t sleep the greatest last night.”

  “Oh?” She strove for a casual tone, but the way she intently stared at him ruined it. “Why is that?” Had he spent the night fearing the upcoming day, like she had?

  “When you date someone, and things start to go bad, you can feel the end coming. You can fight it, pretend it isn’t happening. You can even delay it, for a while.” Lance’s smile turned sad. “Not so much with us. The end is abysmally clear. It’s our last day together. What would you like to do?”

  Her throat tightened and she hid her expression as she turned from where Lance sat on a barstool at the counter. Maggie slowly poured herself a mug of coffee, staring at the dark brown liquid as it flowed into the cup. Her nerves were out of sorts and emotions threatened to turn her into an incoherent mess.

  “When does your flight leave?” she asked with her back to Lance.

  “I have to be at the airport by six.”

  Maggie’s eyes flew to the clock on the stove. They had less than ten hours left. She blinked as tears slammed to the surface. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. He’d moved to stand nearer to her, yet stayed out of reach. His blue eyes were dark, his naturally full mouth a thin line. She looked at Lance, unable to picture her life without him once more.

  “This isn’t goodbye,” he said softly. “We can visit each other. You can come to Ohio or I can come to Iowa. We’re friends now, right?”

  They both knew when Lance left, it would be the second, and final, end for them. His tone said he didn’t believe the words he said. Maggie’s expression said the same. It would be too hard to remain friends, however distantly. Friendship with Lance would never be enough for her.

  “And I’ll s
ee you next month, at the fundraiser,” he continued, his voice getting thicker the more he talked. “You’re my date.” He offered a weak smile.

  “This feels like we’re breaking up all over again,” she told him, trying to tease and failing. Her tone was too serious, too truthful.

  “It feels twenty times worse.” Lance opened his arms. “Come here.”

  Maggie went to him without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his torso as she tightly pressed her face against his collarbone. Lance’s chin rested on her forehead, his arms banded over her back. She closed her eyes and reveled in him, wanting to hug him right into her soul.

  “Thank you for forgiving me. I know I was here to help you, but you helped me too. I needed this time with you.”

  “I needed it too,” she confessed, gripping him harder. Needed him, still needed him. Always would.

  She’d let go of regret, hurt, and anger. Maggie accepted herself. None of it would have happened without Lance. Nora was right—Lance was the guy. Her sister had meant it romantically, but it was more than that. He’d opened Maggie’s eyes to how he viewed her, and she’d been able to see herself in a different, better, imperfectly perfect way.

  He pressed a hard kiss to her forehead and dropped his arms. “What should we do then, on our last day together?”

  Maggie shrugged, desolation making her shoulders heavy. A thought came to her and she brightened, looking at Lance. “I know what we can do.”

  “What?” he asked warily.

  “Have a horror movie marathon, starting with ‘Snakes on A Plane’. That’ll get you ready for your flight.”

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  Maggie held up her hands. “Just trying to help out.”

  “Do you even have any scary movies?”

  Maggie rolled her eyes and headed for the den. “Do I have any scary movies?” she scoffed. “Wait until you see them all. Think of your collection at the age of sixteen, and then add fourteen or fifteen years to that.”

  “Must be impressive,” he replied, following her.

  “And after that, we’ll make you some soap.”

  “Soap,” Lance mused, plopping down on the couch in the den.

  “Yes. Soap. The stuff that makes it so you don’t smell. You wanted to make some. This is sort of your last chance.”