She had been my fix for so long and it wasn’t fair to put the entire fate of my mental health squarely on her shoulders. Existing like that was unhealthy and toxic. And she deserved so much more than that. So much more than what I had always given her.
“Well, you had better toe the line then. I think I like the sounds of this Roberta. She’s my kind of woman,” Maggie giggled and the last threads of unease slipped away.
Because she and I were in this together.
“How about the roommates? What are they like?” she asked and I could hear her banging things around over the phone.
“Great if you like the whole looks like a serial killer and refuses to make eye contact thing,” I said dryly.
“Just give ‘em a chance. You’ll be watching The Jersey Shore and braiding each others’ hair in no time,” Maggie joked and I snorted and decided to change the subject. We spent way too much time focusing on my stuff.
“When are you leaving?” I asked her, trying not to feel selfishly unhappy with the thought of my girlfriend heading off to college without me. Maggie had kept me involved with every detail as she prepared to leave for James Madison University.
It was our pact to each other. That no matter what, no matter how far apart we were, we’d share everything. There wasn’t a single piece of our lives that was off limits. This total inclusion was necessary for our relationship, which was still growing out of a shaky foundation.
We talked about the small stuff like her matching comforter and pillows (which she was really excited about, even if I didn’t understand what was so awesome about pink and brown circles on a blanket) and the new laptop her parents got her. This opened up our world to Skyping. Which was both incredible and gut wrenchingly painful. Because seeing her face made my days that much better. But not being able to touch her was the closest thing to torture I had ever experienced.
We’d also talk about the big stuff like how scared she was to leave home and live on her own. How she worried that she’d hate her new roommate. And the fact that this would be the first time in her entire life she wouldn’t see Rachel and Daniel every single day.
And we’d talked endlessly about the future. What it would look like and how we’d make it all work just so we could be together.
There were voices in the background as Maggie answered me. “Tomorrow morning. Mom’s a mess; Dad has inventoried my school supplies at least a dozen times. They’re driving me sort of crazy. I really wish you were here,” she said softly.
My throat tightened and I had to close my eyes so I wouldn’t fucking cry. “I wish I was there too, baby. So much,” I half whispered, half sobbed into the phone. Maggie made a whimpering noise and I knew she was feeling this desperate separation as much as I was.
“We’ll get through this won’t we? I mean, this will all work out in the end and these miles between us will one day be a bad dream. Promise me,” she pleaded and I took a deep breath in through my nose.
“I promise, Maggie. We’ll get through this. You need to go to school and kick ass. I’ll do what I have to do down here. I’m going to follow this plan step by step and we’ll be together before you know it,” I told her, feeling the truth even as that tangly, dark place inside of me wanted to hijack it with uncertainty.
Because for now she was my entire reason and until I could find one for myself that was enough.
“Danny and Rachel are here. We’re going out to dinner and then to see a movie. They leave in the morning too,” Maggie told me and I recognized the sound of her friends.
“Tell them I said hey and good luck,” I said sincerely. I would always love Rachel and Daniel for the simple reason that they loved my girl.
“I will.” Maggie paused before continuing, “I miss you. So much,” she let out in a rush and I knew she felt guilty for exposing her vulnerability over the phone knowing there wasn’t a thing either of us could do about it.
But I missed her just as much, if not more, and that wouldn’t go away until we were together again.
“I miss you too. More than the moon misses the stars,” I said, laying the cheese on extra thick. I could practically hear Maggie’s smile over the phone.
“More than the waves miss the beach,” she added, laughing.
“More than a hamburger misses ketchup,” I chuckled.
“You are such a sap, Clayton Reed. All of this mush is making me want to vomit a little,” she said making a gagging noise.
“You love it,” I teased.
“No, I love you,” Maggie breathed out quietly, three words just for me.
“I love you Maggie May Young. For forever.”
HOW was I going to be expected to live in a room the size of my parents’ closet? This had hyperventilation written all over it. How could to people co-exist in such confined living conditions without resorting to base level brutality in order to survive?
There was no way I was going to fit half of the stuff I brought with me from home in here! I was freaking out! I was so freaking the hell out!
My dad dropped a heavy hand onto my shoulder and looked around. Mom was still down in the car, needing the extra minute to compose herself before leaving her “baby” all alone at big bad college.
“This is cozy,” Dad said, putting too much optimism into his voice to be anything other than fake.
“Cozy like a prison cell,” I mumbled, dropping my suitcase onto the twin-sized bed. There were two twin beds separated by no more than five feet. There were two desks smooshed against opposing walls. Two closets were built into the wall and were wide open, no doors, though one was covered by a shower curtain (we’d get to this later). There was a small sink in the corner with a mirror over it and a door beside it that led to a fungus filled bathroom.
“Come on, Maggie May, it’s not that bad. It’s a freshman rite of passage. You are given the worst rooms on campus as a means of culling the herd. Consider this a young adult survival of the fittest,” my dad enthused, setting a box on my desk.
My roommate had obviously already arrived. Hard not to notice the bright pink comforter and Justin Bieber posters on her side of the room. Christ, how was I going to breathe the same stale air as someone who listened to Justin Freaking Bieber?
I was about to be thrust into my very own version of college hell.
“Here’s the rest of your stuff, sweetie,” my mom said, her voice tight and muffled from her recent bout of crying. She looked around the room and her face registered the same horrified shock that I knew had crossed mine a few moments before.
“This is your room?” she asked aghast. My dad tsked her under his breath.
“Don’t start, Laura. The room is fine. Maggie will be fine,” my dad said tersely, surprising me with the harshness in his tone towards my mother. But I knew it had more to do with his feelings of empty nest syndrome than anything else. He was trying to make lemonade out of this big ol’ pile of nasty ass lemons.
Mom rubbed her eyes and gave me a watery smile. “No, you’re right, Marty. It’s fine. Maggie will do great. Things will be…great!” she said with a forced enthusiasm it was obvious she didn’t feel.
The problem with being an only child was that your parents clung a little too tightly every time you tried to fly. Even though they wanted what was best for you, they spent more time trying to keep your feet on the ground than pushing you to head for the sky.
I knew my parents wanted me to live my life. They wanted me to go to school and to do well and to make them proud and all that other Hallmark card stuff. But I think for the two people standing in front of me, trying to hide how desperately unhappy they were to lose their “little girl,” the ideas looked better on paper than in real life.
“So where’s the roommate?” my mom asked, sitting down on the end of my narrow bed. I glanced at the Justin Bieber posters again and tried not to shudder.
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her yet.” I had spoken to Ashley McCawl, aka the apparent Bieber-loving roomie, a few weeks ago. She ha
d seemed nice on the phone if not a bit perky. But I shrugged that off as excitement and a case of the nerves. We had only talked for about twenty minutes. Exchanging banal information like where we lived and who would be bringing the fridge and who would bring the microwave.
I had never thought to ask about whether she had an obsession with eye burning color palates and really bad pop music. Shit, she had covered her closet with a Little Mermaid shower curtain.
Was I living with a five year old?
“She has some cute things,” my mother mentioned, doing the nosy parent thing and totally looking at all of the little knickknacks that covered Ashley’s desk. She picked up a bright pink snow globe with a pair of Mickey Mouse ears inside and shook it.
“Someone really loves cartoons,” my dad commented, looking around. He was right, it looked like Walt Disney had thrown up in my dorm room. Aside from the overabundance of Bieber, there were the Cheshire cat throw pillows and the collection of porcelain Disney princesses on the shelf.
My Pixies and The Cure posters would definitely clash.
“You must be Maggie!” I heard from behind me, followed by a girlish squeal. I was blind tackled by a tiny girl with frizzy brown curls and a bright pink shirt with the word princess written in glitter.
I automatically put my arms up and around my overly excited roomie, patting her back mechanically because I didn’t know what else to do with all of…this.
“Last time I checked,” I answered drolly, taking in the cute as a button appearance of Ashley McCawl, my freshman year roommate with an apparent Disney fetish.
Her smile was wide and strangely infectious. I felt my lips stretch and surprised myself by smiling back. “I’m Ashley! I’m just so happy you’re here! I haven’t been able to sit still I’ve been so excited to meet you! And now you’re here!” she said, her words running together in a hurried rush.
My mom and dad came over and shook her hand. They beamed at the so-happy-she-was-borderline-scary Ashley.
“We’re Maggie’s parents. I’m Laura and this is her father, Marty. We were just admiring all of your figurines,” my mom said, relaxing marginally as though Ashley’s meth addict on a sugar high personality instantly made her feel better about leaving me all alone in the terrifying world known as James Madison University.
Ashley bounced on her feet, her hair bobbing around her heart shaped face. Her green eyes sparkled in barely contained enthusiasm. This girl was like a shot of adrenaline after your heart stopped. It made you all sorts of twitchy.
But she was nice and maybe, just maybe, I could stomach having Dopey and Ariel watching me while I slept.
“I can help you unpack! I’m really great at organizing and color coordination! Oh I love your comforter! Is this a memory foam mattress cover? I’m so jealous!” Without waiting for my permission, Ashley ripped off the tape on the box closest to her and started taking everything out.
I could only stand there and blink at her stupidly. I didn’t think I’d have an option of not liking my new roommate. She wouldn’t allow me any time to think about whether she annoyed me or not. Hell, she already exhausted me and it had only been five minutes.
“I think that’s our cue, Laura,” my dad said, putting his hand under my mother’s elbow. I braced myself for the waterworks. I could see Mom’s eyes glassing over and I worried that if she started, I would start and then there would be the two of us, crying like idiots, while my crazy happy roommate alphabetized my paperbacks on the shelf.
But my mother was strong just when I needed her to be. She pulled me into her arms, holding me tightly but with the intent that she was letting me go.
“I love you, Maggie May,” she said quietly and I could hear the effort it took for her not to cry. My dad’s arms came around both of us and I hugged my parents, wishing irrationally that they’d bundle me up and take me home.
I was hit with the fact that this was it. My parents would leave and I would be left here on my own.
Well, not entirely on my own. I had Miss Perksalot to keep me company.
“I’ll take care of her Mr. and Mrs. Young. We’re going to be the best of friends. I can just tell,” Ashley said, breaking my moment of self-pity. And I was grateful for the distraction from my sudden and overwhelming homesickness.
My mom gave me a final squeeze and then she and Dad released me. My dad sniffed and I grinned at him.
“Are you crying, Dad?” I teased and my father gave me a wry smile.
“No way, there’s just a lot dust in here,” he joked, kissing the side of my head.
“Bye sweetie, call us later, okay?” my mom asked me. I nodded as Dad took her by the hand and practically pulled her from my room. And when the door closed behind them, I wasn’t quite sure how I was feeling.
Sad? Yeah. Excited? Maybe a little. Scared out of my freaking mind? You betcha.
“They seem really nice, Maggie!” Ashley chirped after they had left. I turned back to her and tried not to sigh. She already had her hands back in the box on my desk, pulling out the rest of the items.
I thought about telling her to get her hands off my stuff but telling her off would be like stomping on a puppy. There was no sense in imposing any personal boundaries where this chick was concerned. They’d be ignored the very next minute.
This girl was no Rachel, who instinctually understood every nuance of my moods. The sign of an easy friendship that came from a shared childhood and history.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate what this girl was so freely offering. I picked up the pile of sketchbooks Ashley had unpacked and sat on my bed. I thumbed through the first few pages and smiled.
Clay had given them to me before he left for Florida four months ago. I had taken to looking at each and every picture before going to sleep at night. Staring at the small indentations from his pencil where he had bled his heart and soul onto the pages.
It was like having a small piece of the boy I loved with me.
These pictures were Clay’s promise to me. That no matter what, we’d end up where we belonged. Together. For always.
“Oh my God, Maggie! Who is this?” Ashley cooed, holding up a framed photograph, her mouth slightly agape.
I took it from her hands and sat down on the bed, a goofy smile on my lips. Ashley sat down beside me, encroaching unapologetically into my personal space as she looked at the picture in my hands.
It was one of my favorites. Rachel had taken it after Clay had moved back to Davidson earlier in the year. We were sitting on the steps in front of the high school. Clay’s arm was slung around my shoulders in a manner both protective and possessive. His face was slightly turned as he looked down into my upturned face. A smile unlike anything I had ever seen in my entire life lit him up from the inside out. He was beautiful, even in two dimensions.
I pressed a fingertip to the glass. “That’s Clay,” I answered her, my throat feeling uncomfortably tight.
“Is he your boyfriend? Because damn girl, he is gorgeous!” Ashley squealed. I couldn’t help but smile with pride. Damn straight he was my boyfriend. He was the boy who loved me with absolute completion. He was the person who I would spend the rest of my life with.
But I didn’t tell Ashley that. Instead, I simply nodded. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.” As if that title could ever truly define what he was to me.
Soul mate. Love of my life. My reason for breathing. Each of those seemed to make a lot more sense.
“Where is he going to school?” she asked, already moving on to the rest of the stuff in the box.
“Florida,” I answered shortly, not even contemplating sharing with her what he was doing over a thousand miles away.
“Wow, that’s really far away. Is he going to come up to visit? I sure hope so because long distance relationships rarely last,” she quipped a little too enthusiastically for the less than happy turn of the conversation. Because she had unknowingly given voice to my deepest fear.
That despite everything, that eve
n after we had fought so hard to be together, a few thousand miles would destroy it all.
I didn’t know if Clay would come to see me. I wasn’t sure he even could. He had promised to include me in every step of his treatment and so far he had done just that. I had no reason to doubt his intentions or his love but I was a teenage girl, damn it. And insecurity was as easy to slip on as the freshman fifteen.
“I’m not sure,” I said vaguely, not wanting to talk about Clay visiting or whether our relationship would last with a girl I had only known for a few seconds.
Ashley mercifully changed the subject and I was able to forget the nagging questions for another time.
“IS that Justin Bieber on the wall behind you?” Clay asked, smirking. I looked over my shoulder and groaned.
“I had almost forgotten he was there. Thanks for reminding me,” I grumbled, rolling my desk chair from side to side.
Clay laughed and my toes curled at the sound. Thank god for Skype, otherwise I would have gotten in my Corolla and headed for Florida by now. But seeing his face on the computer screen, while not nearly as good as having him here in the flesh, was pretty damn great.
“I’m living with a real life Disney princess, Clay. I have never been surrounded by so much pink in my entire life. It’s like someone spilled Pepto-Bismal all over the place,” I complained good-naturedly.
“It doesn’t look so bad,” Clay said and I rolled my eyes.
“That’s because you’re not here to see it in person. Trust me, you’d agree with me if you could get a load of the seven dwarf figurines for yourself,” I chuckled. Clay smiled and I tried not to let the miles that separated us bring me down.
“I wish I was there, baby. But you seem to be doing just fine. Not that I ever doubted it,” Clay said warmly and I touched the screen wishing I could feel the weight of his hair through my fingers.
“How’s the house? It looks decent enough,” I remarked. There was movement and the screen went lopsided as Clay stood up to give me a sweeping view of his new bedroom.
“You need some pictures on the wall. Maybe some pretty throw pillows. Girl the place up for me, babe,” I teased. Clay snorted.
Warmth in Ice (A Find You in the Dark novella) Page 2
