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It was a selfish instinct, something I wasn’t proud of, but I couldn’t deny how I felt.
When I finished my shift at the end of the day, I was eager to see if Maggie was waiting at the bus stop. I practically speedwalked all the way there, but again, there was no sign of her. Disappointment filled me, and the thought of never seeing her again was almost painful.
Why was I so attached to this woman whom I didn’t even know?
The rest of the week went the same way. Every time I reached the bus stop, I hoped to see her, but she’d disappeared, turned into the ghost I sometimes imagined her to be.
The thought she was avoiding me, just like Stephanie avoided me, gave me a sick feeling. I’d allowed myself to have ideas about her, to get my hopes up, especially when she finally spoke to me that day when it was just the two of us at the bus stop. I, of course, hated that I couldn’t respond, that I’d had to let her believe I was simply ignoring her. But I’d taken courage from the fact she’d talked to me. I’d let myself believe she wanted to know me.
Now, after a week without seeing her at all, I didn’t know what to believe.
On Saturday, I took Dad out for our usual routine. We attended mid-morning mass at St. Peter’s Church, then we went for tea and scones at a nearby café, finishing it off with a quick visit to the supermarket for some groceries before heading home for a quiet evening watching television. Well, Dad watched television while I sat at my desk by the window doing my pencil sketches.
We’d just left mass and were heading for the café when I saw her. It was like time slowed down as Maggie stepped out of a charity shop carrying a brown paper bag. Our eyes met. She looked so pretty, her cheeks flushed and her hair down. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her with her hair down before. It was always tied up or tucked away under a woolly hat. The sight of her caused some of the tension that had built in my chest during her absence to ease. The tightness in my lungs eased, too, and I felt like I could breathe again.
She blinked, looking startled to see me, and I just stood there, frozen in place like she was some kind of apparition.
“What is it?” Dad asked, looking back at me and clearly wondering why I’d stopped walking. Then his attention went to Maggie. “Do you know this young woman, son?” he asked. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two of us, putting it together that he was my dad.
Yes, I signed. Her name is Maggie. I know her from the bus to work.
“Ah, I see,” Dad said before returning his attention to the woman I’d been obsessed with for months. I couldn’t believe she was standing in front of me. All week, I’d been convinced she’d fallen off the face of the planet. “My son tells me you’re Maggie, and he knows you from the bus?”
“Y-yes,” she replied, clearly nervous. “That’s correct, hello.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Shay’s is a friend of mine,” he said, and her eyes flared hearing my name for the first time. Something hot burned in my chest because I’d wanted her to know my name for ages, and now, thanks to Dad, she did. “I’m Eugene,” he continued. “We were just about to go for tea and scones. Would you care to join us?”
My eyes bugged as I signed, What are you doing?
She seems nice, he replied with a knowing smile. Sometimes, I hated how well my dad could read me. He knew when I liked someone.
Maggie glanced at me and worried her lip before returning her attention to Dad. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Not at all!” Dad replied. “We’d love the company.”
Her eyes flicked to mine once more, and I softened my gaze, hoping my expression told her she wouldn’t be intruding. I wanted her to join us. I’d missed seeing her on the bus.
“Oh,” Maggie breathed, again glancing at me nervously as she tucked some hair behind her ear. “Well, I was planning on grabbing a bite to eat, so sure. I’ll join you.”
“Fantastic,” Dad exclaimed. “I hope Mary still has some of her raspberry scones left. They always sell out fast.”
Maggie turned and fell into step with us, and it almost felt surreal. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Dad chatted with her all the way to the café, which was just down the street. Her eyes found mine occasionally, and my chest burned every single time. I caught a faint waft of her flowery shampoo, and my fingers itched to touch her. She wore a navy fleece jacket with a cream jumper underneath and jeans. A small bit of mascara painted her lashes and highlighted the vibrant blue of her eyes. My attention wandered to her lips. I couldn’t stop looking at her, and I sensed it was making her self-conscious, so I tried to stop.
