Deleted

by Tess Thompson

  And she could still open her mouth and strum her guitar and sing from the sweet nectar of her soul.

  Despite all the heartache and disappointment her chosen path had provided—it was hers and hers alone. She had not let anyone, or anything, deter her. Right here in this very room, she had discovered her passions and had never let them go out of fear. This she would choose to be proud of. She hadn’t just talked, she had done. She had worked and hoped and tried again. Even the torn knee and the nights she sang in bars where every customer was either smashed or talking or looking at their phones were part of her journey. The story of me.

  Now, Miss Rita dismissed class. The room reverberated with little girls’ voices as they ran to their mothers.

  Maggie crossed the dance floor to her old teacher. Miss Rita put her thin arms around Maggie and held her close. “Oh, how can it be that you’re here? It was almost impossible to believe when Zane told me, but here you are right in front of me.” She drew away and placed her hands upon Maggie’s shoulders. “My goodness, you’re beautiful.”

  “I’m ten pounds heavier than I used to be.” Maggie hadn’t planned to confess, but somehow that was what came out of her mouth. “They told me I needed more meat on my bones.” That had been one of the first bits of feedback at auditions. Gain a few. You look like a skeleton. It hurts me to look at you.

  For ballet, she had been just right, but not in the new world she’d plunged into. Lisa had been jealous. All she ever heard was to drop five pounds, even though she was perfectly proportioned with muscles and sexy curves. In show business, it seemed one could never win. Too short. Too tall. Too skinny. Too fat.

  “You glow,” Miss Rita said. “Perfection.”

  Maggie blushed, pleased. “Thank you. You look well, too.”

  “A few more wrinkles, but age can’t touch me in here.” Miss Rita tapped her bony chest. “Come along, let’s take a stroll along the walkway. Moving is necessary if we’re to catch up on the last twelve years.”

  The studio had emptied by the time they stepped through the front door to the sidewalk. Maggie donned her sunglasses while Miss Rita locked the door. When she looked back to Maggie, Miss Rita looked her up and down before voicing her approval of Maggie’s long-sleeved linen shirt and cropped cotton leggings. She wagged a long finger at her. “However, we must stop into Violet’s and get you a hat. You’ve taken care of your skin. I’m glad to see it, but this sun will ruin you.”

  “You told me to always wear my sunscreen.” Maggie’s makeup had sunscreen in it. Almost always, when she put it on in the mornings, she had remembered Miss Rita’s advice. Until a few days ago, those memories were accompanied with a flash of pain. But now, here they were. Together again.

  “Good girl.” Miss Rita slipped her arm into Maggie’s as they crossed the street to the shop called “Violet’s Treasures.”

  “She has everything you can imagine in here,” Miss Rita said. “And they’re all made from something recycled. Wallets made from tires and such.”

  “We had one in Brooklyn too,” Maggie said. “Too expensive for me, but it’s a neat concept.”

  “Well, I’m buying you a hat as a welcome home gift.”

  “What happened to the liquor store?” Maggie asked.

  “Mr. Cooper sold it. He owns a few apartment buildings and spends his time on the beach with one of those machines that look for metal.”

  “A metal detector? Do they still make those?” Maggie asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. It’s a terrible waste of a life. To think he spends his energy looking for lost watches in the sand.”

  Maggie smiled as they walked inside the shop. It looked nothing like the old liquor store. Attractive products ranging from wallets to phone cases to beach chairs were displayed on shelves and tables. Clothing items hung on racks. Jewelry sparkled in a glass case. The young woman behind a glass counter, with hair the color of honey and skin tanned a golden brown, was hunched over a stack of receipts. She didn’t look up until Miss Rita called out to her.

  “Good afternoon, Violet,” Miss Rita said.

  Violet jumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” A worry crease had furrowed her brow, but Maggie suspected she was in her mid-twenties. Violet, as if she knew Maggie’s thoughts, slid a finger across her forehead and put on a smile that seemed a touch too bright.

  “We’ve come for a sunhat,” Miss Rita said.

  Violet came from around the counter to stand near them. “I have some pretty ones over here.” She led them to the other end of the shop where various types of hats were displayed on a rack. “This one here is made from an old pair of jeans.” Violet held it up for them to see. It was indeed a sunhat, but it looked more like a bottom in a pair of jeans. Maggie shuffled her feet, unsure how to express politely that she didn’t care for it.

  Violet seemed to pick up on her ambivalence because she reached under the display case and pulled one out made of a feminine pink and green floral cotton print.

  “Yes, that’s better.” Maggie pulled it low over her head. The green matched her eyes. Not bad. For a redhead.

  “Perfection,” Miss Rita said.

  They followed Violet up to the counter. After she rung them up, Violet smiled shyly at Maggie. “Do you remember me at all? From school? I was two years below you and Zane and Jackson. Violet Ellis?”

  Maggie searched her memory. Yes, there it was. Violet Ellis. Cheerleader. No siblings. Her parents had owned a boat and Maggie and Jackson had gone to a party on it once when Violet’s parents were out of town. Violet hadn’t meant for the party to become so large. Zane and Jackson had to make everyone leave.

  “I remember you,” Maggie said. “It took me a moment. Your parents had a boat.”

  “You were on it once.” Violet tossed her shiny hair behind one shoulder and beamed at Maggie. She’d been pretty back in school, but she was beautiful now, with toned muscles and that bronzed skin that looked like a piece of toffee.

  “I’d forgotten that party until just now,” Maggie said. “Zane and Jackson had to toss a couple of the guys into the water to get them to leave.”

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Violet said, blushing. “The entire night traumatized me. I never did another rebellious thing for the rest of high school. And, my parents totally found out when they got home. One of the other boat owners ratted me out. Having a party on the docks wasn’t my brightest idea ever.”

  Maggie laughed. “No, probably not.”

  “I was grounded for two months.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she saw. “It doesn’t feel real to see you. I’m sorry for what your dad did. It’s awful. You were very missed.”

  “Thank you. It’s awkward to come home and discover your own tombstone, to say the least.”

  “For Jackson’s sake, I’m glad you made it back finally. It would be nice to see him happy again.” Violet clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I said too much.”

  “It’s all right,” Maggie said.

  “I know it’s not my place to say anything,” Violet said. “Jackson’s such a good man. We’ve wanted someone special for him. And Sharon, well, she’s…not you.”

  Maggie inwardly cringed. What could she say? Sharon’s been kicked to the curb because I wasn’t dead after all? The facts made both Jackson and her look awful. Maybe they were. How could they ever maneuver through this and keep their sense of integrity?

  After they said goodbye to Violet, Maggie and Miss Rita walked arm-in-arm down Main Street toward the beach. Miss Rita asked Maggie to tell her about the years in New York. However, they didn’t get far before being stopped by a woman about Miss Rita’s age. Maggie had no idea who she was, but the woman knew her. “Maggie, I just heard the news. Such a terrible thing. We’re glad to have you back.”

  Maggie mumbled a thank you and they moved along. Minutes later, it happened again. She suspected the whole town had heard the story. Cliffside Bay seemed t
o have invented the telephone tree. Everyone knew. And no one appeared embarrassed to express their outrage or ask personal questions, including: had she seen Jackson yet?

  It took them a good thirty minutes to reach the beach. They headed left on the cement pathway that ran above the beach. Wide enough for two lanes, walkers and runners were to stay to the right, anything with wheels to the left.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” Maggie said.

  “The people of Cliffside Bay never have learned to mind their own business,” Miss Rita said. “It’s as maddening as ever. However, the busybody ladies have finally stopped asking me when I’m going to have a baby. I guess when you’re over fifty, they figure it’s too late.”

  “Did you want one?” Maggie asked.

  “I would’ve been happy if it had happened, but it never did, so I just decided it wasn’t meant to be. I’ve always been one to ride the current, not fight it. I suppose it’s due to the bohemian years I spent in France.” Miss Rita laughed her sultry laugh. “I surprised myself when I settled down with Alec and moved to this little town after all the excitement of Paris. But love will do things to a person’s brain. But, oh, the fun I had back in the day. Paris rained men. So many men.”

  “Miss Rita? Really?”

  “Have I shocked you?”

  “A little.”

  “I had many, many suitors, my girl. Yes, indeed. But I merely flirted and turned them all away. First, in the name of art. Later, for the love of one man— one I loved enough to move to the only provincial town on the coast of California.”

  “Is it provincial? I never thought that when I lived here,” Maggie said.

  “That’s because you’ve never lived in Paris. Americans are so conservative and they don’t even know it. But what about New York? Were there men?”

  “No, not so many. A few.”

  “Yes?”

  “Actually, none. None is more accurate,” Maggie said.

  “But why?” Miss Rita asked. “New York didn’t rain men?”

  “There’s men, yes. But, like you, I chose art over dalliances. It seemed to me that all that ever came from men were tears. For my friends, anyway. And, I’d been hurt. Jackson, you know.”

  “Yes. I remember quite well what a distraction he was. He and Zane were determined to ruin your dance career on that surf board. Not to mention your skin.”

  Maggie laughed. “We had such fun back then.”

  “Those boys.” Miss Rita shook her head in obvious disapproval. “I suppose Jackson still has his same magical influence over your heart?”

  “It seems so, yes.”

  “You can’t possibly stay here. Not now. Not after all you’ve accomplished.”

  “About that,” Maggie said. “It’s not exactly as I imagined it would be. Success has been somewhat elusive.”

  “Elusive?”

  “I’ve landed a lot of chorus girl roles over the years. Always the chorus girl never the girl, if you know what I mean. In between gigs, there were a lot of bartending and waitressing jobs.”

  “Well, that’s to be expected. The life of a ‘song and dance’ girl isn’t paved in flat stone.”

  Flat stone? Miss Rita had a knack for coming up with obscure metaphors.

  “It’s been a slog. A long, hard slog. I have good friends, but other than them, I don’t have much to show for twelve years of hard work,” Maggie said. “Not much of anything to leave behind.”

  “Leave behind? You mean you’re not returning?”

  “Despite your fears, it wasn’t surfing, but I blew out my knee last year. I won’t dance again. I can’t dance again.” Maggie’s voice caught. Why now? Hadn’t she cried all the tears there were to cry? Perhaps it was the presence of Miss Rita, her first teacher, who had wanted so much for Maggie and who’d believed in her more than anyone before or since. “I’m trying to figure out Plan B. When Darla called, it was the catalyst to begin the process of finding my new life.”

  “I see,” Miss Rita said.

  Maggie stole a glance at Miss Rita’s profile. Was her mentor disappointed? She couldn’t be sure, but a nagging sense of failure hovered at the fringes of Maggie’s consciousness. How many times had she dreamt of sending Miss Rita a program with her listed as the star of the show? Not that it would have mattered. They all thought she was dead. No one would have gotten a letter even if she’d sent it.

  “I gave it my best try. Every single day,” Maggie said.

  “Well, then, you can rest easy knowing you tried your best. That’s all one can expect in this life, I’m afraid.”

  “Are you disappointed in me?” Maggie asked.

  “Absolutely not. I’m disappointed for you, but not in you,” Miss Rita said. “You risked everything for your dream. You worked hard, and you never gave up. So, no, I’m quite the opposite of disappointed. I’m bursting with pride. It’s easy to give up, or to never start in the first place. You did neither.”

  They walked in silence for a few seconds. Overhead, the seagulls called to one another. The sound of waves as they crashed to shore soothed Maggie’s frazzled nerves. “I missed this beach,” Maggie said.

  “Are you thinking of staying?” Miss Rita asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “For Jackson?”

  “Maybe,” Maggie said.

  “Maybe?”

  “The feelings are still there. Our connection was as deep and strong as they get. I can’t ignore that.”

  “You were very young.” Miss Rita’s pace slowed as they reached the end of the cement walkway. The cliffside steepened here, making it impossible for human feet. Below, the sandy stretch of beach ended, dwarfed by hillside. They turned back to go the other way.

  “I always got the feeling you didn’t like Jackson,” Maggie said. “Why was that?”

  “It wasn’t that I disliked him. He’s a fine man, as is his father. But you were extraordinarily talented. Too many times in my life I’ve seen women give up their dreams to be with a man. Or, once they’re married his wishes or dreams become the priority and she’s an afterthought. The woman’s plans are forgotten, even when they’re the one with the talent or intelligence. For generations, we’ve traded our dreams for the men we’re with. I didn’t want that for you.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “Heavens no. I’ve always done exactly as I pleased. Alec accepted that about me a long time ago. It just so happened that my dreams morphed right around the time he appeared. I had done what I wanted, which was to dance in the ballet. I traveled the world. And then, when I reached an age where I could no longer perform, I decided to come home to California. I found this little town when I was out exploring one day. Something inside me told me this was the place. I opened my studio and started a new life. I’d lived here a month when I went over to Hugh’s bar—Zane’s bar now—for a bite to eat and Alec was sitting at the counter, drowning his sorrows in a martini.”

  “What was he sorry over?”

  “A woman. It’s always a woman. Unless it’s their jobs or the lack of a job. Men are much more fragile than we are. Anyway, I sat down next to him and ordered a glass of wine and he started telling me all about it. It was no problem to distract him from her.” Miss Rita smiled wickedly. “I had my Paris training, after all. And voilà. We’ve been together ever since.”

  “You’ve been happy?” Maggie asked.

  “Not every moment, but yes. He has annoying qualities, as do I. But we work it out. Someone once told me it wasn’t the grand gestures that make a marriage work, but the daily kindnesses. We’ve always been good at the small stuff. But enough about me. Tell me, dearest, what’s it like to be home after all this time?”

  “It’s not what I thought, obviously. I had no idea anyone missed me or wanted me home.” She shared with Miss Rita the returned letters and how she’d interpreted them as rejection. “I thought everyone sided with Jackson—that you all thought I was selfish to leave.”

  “You poor girl,�
� Miss Rita said.

  They were at the other end of the walkway now. At the bench, they sat. Umbrellas of all shades and sizes dotted the beach. Children dug in the sand. Boogie boarders screamed as they rode a wave into shore.

  “Have you ever thought about why you believed the lie so easily?” Miss Rita asked.

  “What lie?”

  “The one you told yourself when the letters came back unopened.”

  “That wasn’t a lie. That really happened.”

  “It was Darla’s lie. The question is why you so readily accepted that people who’d loved you your whole life would suddenly not want anything to do with you. Many people, when not receiving an answer to their letters might have emailed. Or called. Instead, you chose to believe that we’d all abandoned you. That we’d chosen Jackson over you. Which, is ridiculous.”

  “I guess I haven’t thought of it that way.” They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “You were the most talented student I’ve ever had. Also, the hardest working. We were close. How could you think I’d abandon you?”

  “Because I always felt like the charity case around here. My drunk and dangerous father was a known murderer—my mother was dead—so the town had no choice but to take care of me. When the letters came back unopened, it confirmed my suspicions. No one wants me. I imagined you were all relieved that I wasn’t here any longer.”

  “That, my dear, is a pretty big leap.”

  Maggie flushed with embarrassment and pulled her hat lower on her forehead. “It seems foolish now, but at the time, I was disoriented and hurt. I decided then and there that I would never think of this place or any of you ever again. It worked, too, for the most part. I was busy in college with friends and new experiences. When I graduated, I thrust myself into my new life. Auditions and classes and waitressing jobs consumed most of my energy.”

  “You were wrong about everything. You were the beloved daughter of this town, especially to Doc and me. We loved you as if you were our own flesh and blood.” Miss Rita’s hand shook as she took Maggie’s into her lap. “My girl, how I grieved for you.”