“You either need people … or you don’t need them at all.”
The next morning, Cal stood in his sweatpants in the kitchen, wearing no shirt, drinking a glass of carrot juice when Maggie stepped into the room, her hair damp and kinky from the shower. John must’ve still been dressing.
“No coffeepot?”
“No,” he replied, setting down the glass, feeling the milky orange mustache over his upper lip. “Sam took it.” He wiped his mouth with a paper towel. “You’re still leaving today?”
“We have obligations.”
Cal took her hand, then paused. “I’m sorry.” He looked over the kitchen. “About yesterday.” He sighed. “And I’m sorry... I’m sorry about your father.”
Eyes glossing, Maggie shifted her gaze. “You either need people…” She bit her lip and glanced at him. “Or you don’t need them at all.”
“I need you.” Cal stared into her dewy brown eyes.
“You’re not ever… We never see you. If you needed us, we would see you more.”
“It works both ways. I’ve kept in touch with you.”
“You should’ve come, Cal. You should’ve come to the—”
Funerals were for the living, not the dead. He should’ve been there. She was right. But he made choices few understood.
“I’m here now.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m here now. John is here now.”
“And you are leaving.”
“Think about moving to Florida.”
“This is my life ... out here.”
“What life?”
“Did it ever occur to you that I’m hurting? It was seven years of my life too, Maggie. You do know she’s the one who left?”
It had been a good seven years. Or was it hindsight? The fire Sam had lit under Cal still burned, leaving scar tissue. Their time together had been both good and bad. Then he was empty. Empty with Samantha, even when he should’ve been full, empty here with Maggie now.
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“I don’t want pity. I’m not your fucking charity case.”
“No, you’re not—”
“I want you to understand me.”
“Well, I don’t,” she snapped.
“Do I question you? Your choices?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been married for—”
“There are decisions in life besides marriage ... and relationships.”
“Apparently you have that all figured out.”
“I didn’t want her to go.”
“You didn’t give her a reason to stay.”
Cal became quiet, restless, but he didn’t flinch or fidget.
“Is this about you now?” he asked a moment later. “I’m sorry, Maggie, if I can’t give a woman something you want.”
“I’m done wanting what I don’t have.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I moved on...” Her lashes fluttered. “Years ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she replied, too fast, too confident. “I have peace now ... with all of it.”
“Just not for me? No peace for me? I don’t believe you. You’re projecting your own base need to have a bab—”
“No, I’m not!”
John entered the room and glanced between the two of them: The Cat and her prey. Their postures locked, their eyes still communicating despite the eerie silence.
“Are you ready, honey?” Maggie asked John, her hands trembling some as she puffed out her chest. “The suitcases are packed.”
But Cal was the one left shaking.
His heart palpitating.
Pulse pounding.
Head throbbing.
Perhaps Maggie had made peace.
Cal had not made it or found it, nor could he understand it. The same way Maggie couldn’t understand his restlessness. Cal’s peace was temperamental, coming and going like the tides. Affected by the moon. The seasons.
By women.
He wanted peace, though. Or thought he did.
He wanted comfort.
And despite the fact that his two dearest friends had needed consoling when they’d arrived, having come straight from a funeral — and he regretted not being able to provide it — he still wanted them to assure him. To lift him up and out of his mood.
On the outside, Cal might’ve appeared capable and strong — he certainly looked the part — but inside, his regrets and failings, his shame and misgivings, chipped away at whatever remained of the boy who’d once run barefoot through the tangerine fields — the young man who’d loved taking his beloved board out to the Pacific.
Cal had been slowly sliding toward a bottom for years, toward the deepest part of the ocean. And now, with his life half over, he wondered if what eluded him would ever come.