“You can do anything you want, sweetie,” I reassure her. “No one’s judging you.”
“All I’m saying is that men and women are the same. They should be held to the same standards,” Miranda insists.
“I totally disagree. Men and women are completely different,” Maggie replies obstinately.
“I kind of hate when people say men and women are different,” I interject. “It sounds like an excuse. Like when people say, ‘Boys will be boys.’ It makes me want to scream.”
“It makes me want to sock someone,” Miranda agrees.
Maggie stands up. “All I can say is that you two deserve each other.” And while Miranda and I look at her in bewilderment, Maggie runs into the bathroom and slams the door.
“Was it something I said?” Miranda asks.
“It’s not you. It’s me. She’s mad at me. About something. Even though I should be mad at her.”
I knock on the bathroom door. “Mags? Are you okay? We were just having a conversation. We weren’t saying anything bad about you.”
“I’m taking a shower,” she shouts.
Miranda gathers her things. “I’d better go.”
“Okay,” I demur, dreading being left alone with Maggie. Once she gets angry, she can carry a grudge for days.
“Marty’s coming over anyway. After he finishes studying.” She waves and hurries down the stairs.
Lucky her.
The shower is still going full blast. I straighten up my desk, hoping the worst is not to come.
Eventually Maggie comes out of the bathroom toweling her hair. She begins picking up her things, stuffing clothing into her duffel bag.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“I think I should,” she grumbles.
“C’mon, sweetie. I’m sorry. Miranda is just very adamant about her views. She doesn’t have anything against you. She doesn’t even know you.”
“You can say that again.”
“Since you’re not seeing Ryan, maybe we could go to a movie?” I ask hopefully.
“There’s nothing I want to see.” She looks around. “Where’s the phone?”
It’s under the chair. I grab it and hand it over reluctantly. “Listen, Mags,” I say, trying not to be confrontational. “If you don’t mind, could you not call South Carolina? I have to pay for the long distance calls, and I don’t have that much money.”
“Is that all you’re about now? Money?”
“No—”
“As a matter of fact, I’m calling the bus.”
“You don’t have to go,” I say, desperate to make up. I don’t want her visit to end in a fight.
Maggie ignores me, looking at her watch as she nods into the receiver. “Thanks.” She hangs up. “There’s a bus that leaves for Philadelphia in forty-five minutes. Do you think I can make it?”
“Yes. But, Maggie—” I break off. I really don’t know what to say.
“You’ve changed, Carrie,” she says, zipping up her bag with a snap.