Grimm's Last Fairy Tale (16 page)

“I think I might. It would have been a little difficult to hide the distress on your face when you told me it was missing. I’m so glad I could do something for you.”

“Well, thanks again,” she spoke in a dismissive tone, which he either didn’t catch or chose to ignore. Though she believed in the words she shared with Jacob, she was nonetheless a little apprehensive about jumping into something; and after that last conversation, she honestly had some doubts and was in no condition to talk to anyone much less delve into a new relationship.

“I wish you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I just had words with Jacob and I’m in no mood to have another precarious conversation. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

“I knew he must have beat me here. He wasn't at the hotel like you said he would be. I'm surprised he just left it there.” David chuckled a little nervously, but Maggie saw right through his attempts to undermine Jacob. Maybe Jacob was right after all.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, you rest then. I’ll wait for your call.”

Maggie instinctively knew that David was growing real feelings for her and, despite her doubts, she might be doing the same, but she knew for sure she had to take it slow. Her heart was still with Jacob and this whole fiasco was confusing and a part of her wished that she had never met either one of them. Life would at least be simpler without all the drama that had transpired since meeting both of them.

She smiled and he left with a look of all-encompassing dejection.

Once he had gone, she closed her eyes for a nap and didn’t wake up until dinner. She slept right through the vitals checks. The smell of hospital pot roast aroused her senses and she sat up and devoured her dinner, wishing she could have some accompanying dinner conversation.

After she finished her meal, she watched Law and Order re-runs until she once again dropped off to sleep, hoping to dream of Vincent D'Onofrio rather than David or Jacob.

“Goodnight, Jacob, wherever you are,” she nonetheless whispered into the sterile hospital room air.

When the sun glared rudely through the window, Maggie awoke with the stirrings to get back on the road. She felt urgency in getting to each of her children, particularly with the way her health was spiraling downward. She knew the time was running down for treatment.

When the doctor came in, he released her with strong warnings to finish up her travels and to get things started with her doctor at home.

She dressed and got into the car, but was unable to turn the key. She had to contact Jacob and get him back in the passenger seat.

“Jacob, I miss you. Please come make the trip with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I had this pair of earrings once. They were my favorite and I only paid a few dollars for them. They were beautiful shiny silver with fake diamonds dangling in a cluster. I took off the pair of tiny sterling hoops and put them away because they weren’t noticeable enough. I wore the new ones all the time and it didn’t take long for the jewels to start falling out and the metal to turn this awful pink color when the silver paint wore off. Sometimes we lose sight of the value of what we have because of the glaring shininess of something new.”

“All I mean is that love is not about obsession or control. It is about allowing those dearest to you to lead their own lives. If you want to explore a possible future with David, then by all means, that is what you should do.”

Tears ran down her flushed cheeks.

“Honestly, Maggie, I don't understand you at all. I thought this would make you happy. But perhaps you are a woman who is just used to the controlling, manipulative behaviors of insecure men. Maybe that is your comfort zone. I'm at kind of a loss here.”

Maggie could not speak. She was heaving so hard that she choked on he own saliva and quickly grabbed the ice water next to her and sipped through the straw. When she had somewhat composed herself, she brushed him away with her hands, still unable to utter a sound aside from the sobs.

“You want me to leave? I'm gone.”

And with that, Maggie was once again alone and was once again swearing off men forever, only this time, she meant it. Not like she had meant it every other time either. She was done for good. All she wanted was to make the remaining visits to her children and then lie down in her bed and expire. Die. Pass away into the bleak nothingness she was once afraid existed, but now seemed like an agreeable option.

Behind the ostentation of these flamboyantly dressed words existed a strength and resolution that Maggie had not felt in some time. She raised the head of the bed and opened her laptop and began to pour her heart into two things: the book she had been writing and her own personal bucket list. She determined that once she had completed each item on the list and written “The End” on the manuscript, her life could end and she would be happy about it.

Maggie was alarming herself with this newly found liberation from a lifelong lived in victim-hood. It was exhilarating and at the same time, exhaustive.

Maggie dressed, packed up the laptop, and walked down the hall and out to the parking lot and looked for her car, suddenly realizing that she didn't have it. Nor did she know what had happened with the rental car. For about 45 seconds, she re-thought her assertive posture with the hospital and then the new Maggie re-surfaced and she knew what to do. She pulled out the rental contract and her cell phone and made the call that she would have, in her previous life, shrunk away from making.

She had to fight regression, however, when she realized the rental car agency would not rent her another car without a physician's clearance. She plopped down on a bench in the hospital's relaxation garden and thought. She thought until her she felt her brain would melt and flow from her ears like lava.

in which Maggie figures things out,

travels solo to pop in on another daughter and makes a new friend

Maggie decided to brave a bus back to Springfield, Ohio, and hope that her car had been repaired so that she could once again head to Rachel's house in Virginia. It wouldn't be so bad. She had often traveled by bus as a teenager. Things couldn't have changed that awfully much, could they?

She hailed a cab and directed the driver, a lovely olive-skinned man with a Greek accent, to take her to the bus station. She walked through the grimy doors, luggage and laptop bag in hand, and surveyed the dilapidated surroundings that clearly had not been cleaned, much less, refurbished since around 1970. There were people sleeping in corners as if it were their home. She made her way to the ticket counter, seriously questioning her decision, and inquired about a ticket to Springfield.

“That will be $87.50 and it will leave here at 4:45 this evening and arrive tomorrow morning at 11:00. You'll change buses three times.”

“You can't be serious. That's a hefty price for a ticket and why on earth would it take so long to get there when I could drive it in about 5 hours.”

“Look, lady, I don't make the schedule, I just sell the tickets. The bus has to stop at every Podunk town between here and there. And besides that, if you could drive it in 5 hours why aren't you?”

With that, the clerk shoved the ticket so hard that it flew off the counter, forcing Maggie to bend over and retrieve it. This seemingly insignificant act dredged up countless memories of all the random acts of unkindness ever shown to her by the men in her life. The times they had let her down and the fact that they continued to let her down by not being in her life right now when she could use a man. The truth was that every time things got to be more than she could handle, she blamed those who had hurt her. She lugged these heavy bricks of pain around in a cumbersome duffel bag and believed with everything in her that they were the reason for her chronic pain, but for whatever reason, chose not to put them down but to continue to hang on to them.

But this time, as she bent down and picked up the ticket that represented the new life she was embarking on, a life of independence and strength, a life that was closing the door on being a victim, this time, she thoughtfully made the choice not to hate. She would sorrow for him instead. She would feel bad for the kind of life he must have that would cause him to treat a total stranger like herself in such a rude manner.

This new way of thinking—this new-found thoughtful kind of braveness—was more than a little bit liberating. No longer would she cower at the sight of adversity. She would sit in this filthy bus depot, glad for the opportunity to do this on her own and free from the bonds of bitterness.

This heady feeling lasted all of four minutes until a drunk walked up to her and began to pat her down asking for change.

“Go away!”

She brushed him away and he blankly obeyed, but it had deflated her sense of self and she once again felt the victim. She thought to herself that this new practice would probably take some building up, like an inactive muscle, and she vowed to carry through with it.

She parked in the cleanest chair she could find and wished with all her heart that she had a good book to read. She would have loved to have gotten out her laptop and done some writing, but she knew that it would not be wise in such a place to do so.

Exhausted from thinking, she had to continually jar herself awake. She couldn't risk falling asleep in these surroundings and had to face the prospects of not sleeping until she arrived at her destination, another 16 hours or so from that point.

At least she could look forward to the luxurious seats and quiet of a bus ride. She could be alone with her thoughts and formulate a plan for herself.

When the clerk finally announced the bus going west was loading, Maggie collected her things and stumbled wearily onto the bus where she let out an audible gasp. This was not the bus line of 30 years ago. Though the amenities were an updated version of the same, they had been badly abused and the seats now were filled with folks who seemed to not have a great deal of respect for this means of travel. In the old days, she would have found an interesting person to sit next to, plop down and begin hours of intimate conversation. She had often mused in the old days how she could be anything she wanted. Spending only a few hours of your life with someone, and with the knowledge you would probably never in a million years run into them again, you could be a European princess traveling undercover and speak with an effectual accent. You could be in the witness protection program. You could be a runaway, having just narrowly escaped parents who had beaten you to within an inch of your life. This is where Maggie first began “writing” her stories—by personifying a fictional character and then developing it as she went along.

This, however, would be different. She quickly scanned the bus, looking for an elderly person who might sleep the entire trip. She found one and practically ran, her adrenalin now pumping, to the seat next to him, and sat down, quickly closing her eyes as if she had already been traveling and was sleeping.