Wurlitzer In Space – John Gallagher Jr.
-O-O-O-
The fake flowers on the counter shivered when her bag bumped the vase with her purse, searching through sheets of paper, pens, notes, and her makeup bag for a pill bottle.
Why did this have to happen tonight? She'd blame it on Lisa, and Jim. Stupid Jim. Stupid, stupid. Stupid her.
Her hands shivered when she downed one round pill before leaning over to cup a handful of water from the tap.
They'd gone to Hang Chew's after the eight o'clock for a quick bite. Don wasn't usually present, too busy prepping for the ten o'clock hour. But Sunday evenings he was off, and had joined the crew. She felt two inches tall when Jim and Don were in the same room. Like at any moment, they'd break into a terrifying, flesh-hungry fist fight like two wild animals. The tension was so thick she could cut it with a knife. Not even the cool mint of her mimosa could calm her nerves tonight.
She wasn't sure when it had all clicked. She could track it back to the night Don told her about the other girls. The night when she'd stared at that flimsy piece of paper with a woman's curvy cursive scrawled across it. She'd admitted to herself then, for the first time, that the whole hook up between Jim and Lisa had been for her own benefit; she could keep ignoring her true feelings if things were this way. And it was so deep, so very ingrained already that she hadn't even realized she'd done it.
She hated lying. It made her feel ill and her throat tightened as if she was having an allergic reaction. She was allergic to lying. Was that even possible?
But then, Jim had done it too. Jim had been so sickeningly chivalrous and so affable with Lisa that he'd convinced himself that he actually liked her.
They'd both lied to themselves, and created a web of unspoken untruths so thick that their relationship had become likened to kindergarten pig-tail pulling.
The water was still running when she glanced up into the mirror, watching her own wide blue eyes twitch and blink. Her eyeliner and mascara were smeared. She scrubbed away the smudges rather than re-apply. She didn't have to return to the office after this, and she was nearly ready to leave anyways.
Behind her, against the blue paneled stalls, he was there, arms over his chest, watching.
She gasped and spun to face him. "What are you…? What are you doing? You can't be in here, this Is the ladies' room…" she stammered, trying to find her voice again.
He just smiled and stepped forward, reaching for her wrist.
"What are you…" she asked. Strangely, she felt her pulse calm just at his touch.
His fingers pressed at her pulse point and he nodded. "You're cool…" He released her. "I mean, you're fine…I mean…"
"Shut up," she breathed.
"Ok." He nodded.
"You don't have to come check on me every time this happens."
"I know. I'm not checking on you. I'm coming to say goodbye."
"You couldn't wait until I was finished?"
He sighed, burying his hands in his pockets. His stories were usually water-tight. Why was he so vulnerable around her?
"I just needed an excuse to come and…"
"Stalk me in the ladies room?" she quipped.
"Exactly." He stepped forward again, his hands lifting to fall against her shoulders. Maggie watched his eyes. She couldn't ever really get a good read on him. He was, already at twenty-nine, a staunch and quick-witted newsman. He looked away for just a second, and she saw it. He was trying to be honest. He was preparing for the jugular.
"What are you…?" she asked, preparing to pull out of his grasp.
"You can't keep doing this to me," he said, his jaw tight.
"Excuse me? Me doing this to you?" She arched away from him, but his hands still clamped over her shoulders.
"I can't keep letting myself be…be…" He swallowed. "Wooed. I can't keep looking in your eyes every day in that newsroom and wishing I could just jump the cubicles to kiss you. And I can't keep watching Don piss all over everything, treat you like crap, make fun of you.."
"He doesn't mean…"
He shook his head, interrupting. "You know it, Maggie. You know he doesn't love you, but you want him to. You want a first love fairytale, I get that. But you can't have that at the expense of yourself. I'm not going to try and pretend anymore. Do you understand what I'm trying to say…?"
Her breath hitched and she realized just how close he was. Her eyes settled on his lips, remembering how warm they'd been. She wondered how many lies had passed over them, what sweet lyrics to songs she'd never heard.
"I think so," she answered, leaning just a fraction of a centimeter forward.
"No, you don't." His fingers squeezed her shoulders. "I'm leaving, Maggie."
Her breath shortened. "What?"
"I'm leaving. I'm taking a job in Atlanta."
"Wha…?" she breathed, backing fully away from him, her backside slamming against the counter. "Why?"
He shrugged. "It just…I just am. I wanted to give you the respect you deserve and tell you first."
"You haven't told Mackenzie? Will's going to flip. You can't just…"
"I can." He nodded. "I am." His jaw strained and he shook his head at the floor. "Lisa and I are over, or at least we will be once I leave here, and then I'm gone."
"I…" she gasped. "I can't believe you'd just…" She stammered, confused, a hand clamping over her forehead.
"I love you," he blurted.
Her eyes snapped up to lock on his.
"I always have, since Mac tried to hook us up that first day. I couldn't say it to Lisa because I was betraying you." He gestured to her. "I love you," he said again, finalizing it.
"Jim…" she breathed.
He turned, tugging open the door. She watched, through the frosted glass as his shadow retreated back down the hall.
Her breathing was manic again, and she had no one now to help her fix it. Instead, she bent over the sink, expecting the half-platter of tuna jerky to come spewing up, but instead, tears dripped down into the well of the sink, running fast like a waterfall against the clean white porcelain.
Her knees were shaking so frantically that she thought she might faint. There was no use in chasing after him. He'd probably already called for his cab and was out the door. She couldn't run after him with Don still hanging around the bar.
It was over. He was gone, and she was stuck. They all were, like gears in a malfunctioning machine.
