Her body tightened up and she shrugged.
She was still as beautiful as before, but now it was a haunting kind of beauty, the kind of beauty that made you want to laugh and cry all at once.
I stepped forward, wanting to place my hand on her arm, to remember what she felt like, but when I moved, she edged away.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I’ll let you be.”
She frowned. I’d forgotten that a frown could be more stunning than a smile. I stepped past her, and our arms brushed against one another, and I felt her shake. Or maybe I shook. It was hard to tell the difference between the two of us. Right as I was about to leave, I paused.
“I miss you,” I blurted out, a little hurt, a little honest, a little confused. “I miss you and I don’t know why, because you made it clear that you wanted me to go to Los Angeles all those years ago. I miss you, because you stopped sending me the books. I miss you, and I don’t know why, because you’re right here. You’re standing steps away from me, yet I feel as if there is some kind of giant wall standing between us. How can I miss you when you’re so damn close to me?”
She kept her back to me as I watched her bend down and place the book on the floor in front of her. As she rose slowly, she turned toward me, and then leaped into my arms.
She literally leaped. She flew to me, and I caught her, wrapping my arms so tight around her.
God.
That felt good.
It felt so good to have her in my arms. To hold her close to me. To smell her hair, which always smelled like honey and flowers. To feel her lips graze against my shoulder. To hold her.
My Maggie May…
“Don’t let go,” I whispered into her hair. “Please don’t let go.”
She held on tighter.
That night we lay on her bed, listening to music on her iPhone, each with one of the earbuds, and it was amazing how natural it felt being there in that room beside her. They said time changed people, and it was true. We weren’t the same two people we used to be, but somehow we evolved as one. Even with hundreds of miles between us.
But what I loved most about that night was how some things never seemed to change.
I loved that my favorite moments stayed the same.
Tilting my head in her direction, I asked her a question. “Why didn’t you send the books back to me?”
She pushed herself up, narrowed her eyes, and seemed somewhat confused. When she reached over for her board, I waited somewhat patiently for her reply.
Sasha.
“What about her?” I asked.
The letter you sent, telling me about her the first time, I knew I should stop replying.
“Because it hurt you?”
Maggie shook her head. Because it could’ve hurt her, seeing letters coming from another girl.
And there she was again: the most thoughtful woman in the world.
“We broke up,” I said.
Maggie gave me a questioning stare, and I rubbed my hairy chin.
“Well, she kind of broke up with me, I guess. She said she hated being the third choice in my life.”
Third?
“Music…and well…” I gave her a sad grin, and she gave me the same kind back. Music and you. “It’s not fair, you know, because every time I tried to move on your love kept pulling me back.”