Page 126 of Falling Backwards
We set off.
And we put a ton of space between us, I notice.It’s nice for catching my breath as a breeze comes, but I also feel abruptly lonely with her way over there, nearly on the other edge of the sidewalk.
I don’t last long before I have to let my next few steps take me closer to her.
She catches it, I know; her glance tells me so.
I also know she doesn’t have to give that tiny ant pile in front of her as wide a berth as she does—there’s no need for her to come arm-bumpingly close to me to avoid it.
Except that shewantsto come closer.
We both apologize about the bumping despite that I didn’t contribute to it and that she doesn’t actually seem sorry.
Neither of us moves very far from the other at all.
“So,” she says, her voice light again, “your mom taught you the importance of a clean home?”
It’s a random choice of topic, but after a moment of puzzlement, I decide I don’t mind.
“She did.”The memory that resurfaces makes me shudder.“We went out of town once when I was younger—before I met you—and we got this inn room that we thought sounded nice but turned out to be shitty.We kept seeing bugs.”
Maggie shudders too.“Oh no.Ew, ew.”She shakes her hands out.“I hate that.”
“Same.I’d been super excited to stay somewhere out of town, but believe me when I say that place had me wanting to go back home.Our house suddenly seemed so much better.And when I told my mom, she said,‘This is why we keep our house clean.I bet your chores don’t seem so bad anymore, huh?’
“Aha!Mom with the lesson at the ready!”
“Yep!Regular spraying for bugs is important, too, but still.”
“Of course.”She winces at me.“Did you have to stay the night there?”
“Nope, we bailed.”I feel my old relief all over again.
I see relief washing over her too.“I’m so glad you were able to leave.That’s really fortunate.”
“Definitely.Was quite an hour.It taught me about cleanlinessandgratitude in a few different ways.”
She’s looking ahead again, but I still see her soft smile.“That’s good.”
“Mmhmm.”
We fall quiet for a minute.The only speaking we do is to greet a cyclist and an older couple we pass on the path.
As the time slips by, I feel a heightening desire to ask Maggie something in return, but I can’t decide what to go with.There’s a lot I’m finding myself wanting to know.What’s even worth asking?What’s lame?What’s boring?
…Well, it’s kind of embarrassing how long it takes me to realize I don’t have to limit myself like that.Don’t have to decide which questions are the most important.Even if all these things in my head don’t get talked about during our current trip to the park, that’s okay; I can learn her from day to day for as long as I want to.
I like the sound of that—thetruthof that.
So I dive in.“What’s your favorite food these days?It used to be extra-cheese pizza, right?”
This time, her smile is one of curiosity.“Wow, yes, it did.My favorite food now, though?What a hard question.”
I recall, “You like the eggs Benedict from work, huh?”
“Oh,” she moans, “Ilovethat.”
The response rolls over me in a far hotter way than she means for it to.
