Maggie Swanson flipped through the usual afternoon programming as the rain tapped on the windows outside. Almost all of the shows on the TV before noon were either overly dramatic soap operas or paid advertisements for wireless printers and products promising instant hair growth. She finally settled for an old black and white movie as she curled up on the couch with a book.
For the last four years, she hadn’t been able to be home alone without some sort of background noise breaking the silence filling the house. And she was almost always home alone. Whether it was the TV on a low volume or her music playing in one ear from her headphones, Maggie had to be listening to something.
Just as she’d gotten comfortable, there was a loud knock on the door. “Nobody’s home,” she whispered turning the page of her thick, chapter book hoping the stranger would go away. A few seconds passed and there was another knock, this time accompanied by a man’s voice.
“I know you’re in there Maggie,” said the familiar voice. Maggie's head perked up. She knew that voice, but she hadn't heard it around town for years. The silhouette of the man peeked through the windows, but the shades were drawn. “You’re not fooling me, I can hear the TV.”
It’s a trick Mags. Don’t listen to him. It could be a burglar or a masked murderer. Just stay here and read your boring book while I watch this damn movie I’ve seen at least 37 times.
Maggie dog-eared the page she was on and walked carefully over to the wooden door on the opposite side of the room.
Of course you’re going to ignore me. You can’t even hear me.
Peering cautiously through the curtains covering the side window, Maggie was confused when she saw who was standing outside. His back was turned and he was wearing a large rain coat, but she’d know that chestnut hair anywhere. She’d seen it at least once a day, every day for nearly four years.
Maggie unlocked the multiple locks her mother bolted to the front door. Slowly opening the creaky door, she stared at the man for a long time without saying anything. It had been three and a half years since he'd left St. Hallows in his rearview and took off to the west in hopes of running from his nightmares; it had been longer since Maggie had seen him.
“Ryan,” she finally said in a hushed tone.
Ryan? What is he doing here? I got up from my spot on the couch and walked towards the door and just stared at him. Reaching out my hand, I tried to place my hand on his rugged face, the face I hadn’t seen in years, but pulled my hand back at the last second. He’d been gone for so long, he didn’t look the same. The last time I saw him was the day of my funeral.
Of course, it was pouring rain, but he refused anybody’s offer of an umbrella. He just stood there, staring down at my casket as his nicest suit got drenched. There were worry lines creased in between his eyebrows like they always did when he was upset.
Marco Santos, his best friend at the time, put his arm around Ryan’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off. I watched him storm off through the crowd, cussing loudly at the stormy sky like I was up there looking down on him. Following him wasn’t an option. If I was stuck in this in between life I now found myself in, I needed to be with Maggie.
“Wow, you’ve really grown up since I saw you last,” he said inviting himself into the house and shaking out his soaked hair.
“That’s what happens after four years,” Maggie said closing the door. “What are you doing back in town? I thought you’d left for good to California or somewhere far away from here.”
“Nevada, acutally," he chuckled. He kicked his shoes off and leaned his umbrella agaisnt the door. Ryan had a habit of making himself at home, even if he hadn't been to Maggie's house in years. "You don’t sound too happy to see me Magnolia-”
“Maggie,” she corrected him. “Only Emma was allowed to call me that.”
Ryan sighed and apologized. “I forgot it was just between you two. It was such a dumb nickname I’d come up with when I was nine. Mags was only four at the time, so mom made me take her with me anytime I’d go anywhere. We were playing on the playground just down the street from our townhouse, and Maggie fell off the monkey bars. I couldn’t get her to stop crying, so I picked a nearby flower off a nearby magnolia tree and handed it to her. Maggie stopped crying and held the pink bud in her hands. We were just kids when we’d thought of them and Maggie loved it, so it stuck. I was her Emu and she was my sweet Magnolia.
"So, how have you been Maggie?”
She didn’t go back to the couch because she felt uncomfortable that Ryan was in her house. For years, the only time she'd ever been around him was when Emma was home, and even then, she only caught glimpses of them coming in and out of the bedroom in the back. Leaning against the door, Maggie said, “I’m alright.”
“You're quieter than I remember," he scratched the back of his neck as he looked around the small room. "I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
“Next time?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah, I was hoping to catch your mom, but I see her car isn’t here,” Ryan said glancing out the window at the empty parking spot in front of the house. “Do you know where she might be?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said slumping into the kitchen and pulling a pan from the cabinet. “Haven’t seen her all day.”
Ryan looked at his watch and said, “It’s almost time for dinner.”
“She usually doesn’t come home until after I’ve gone to sleep.” Maggie was used to making herself dinner with whatever she could find in the pantry and fridge. One time, all they had were stale rice cakes and a scoop of jam. Guess who had a strawberry rice cake sandwich for dinner that night? Luckily, Maggie had stopped at the grocery store yesterday afternoon, leaving plenty of options to choose from for her meal.
“Do you always make dinner yourself?” he asked walking over to the kitchen bar and taking a seat on one of the stools. Maggie nodded and then went to the fridge. “Well, how about this; I haven’t eaten anything since I’ve been back. Do you mind if I order us some Chinese food?”
Maggie’s face lit up. She hadn’t had take-out in the longest time since her mom had disconnected all of the phones in the house, but she shook her head. “I don’t need anyone’s handouts.”
“It’s not a handout Maggie,” Ryan laughed. “I see you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have somebody care about you for a change. I’d heard rumors that your mom started drinking the night after the accident, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
“It’s worse than you think,” Maggie said hopping up onto the counter while Ryan dialed the restaurant’s number on his phone.
