By the time the beer went ‘round the third time, everyone at the table was laughing. Maggie was trying to keep up with the spiralling tale told by Hobley, the stout little fellow seated to her left. He’d been drinking since before he got to the party, and it made his storytelling harder to understand, but infinitely more entertaining.
“So I says to him, I says: ‘You take one step further, I’ll shove that boot so far up your arse, you’ll have laces for nose hairs!’” He tipped onto Maggie in a fit of laughter. “An’ an’ an’…”
“Ease up there, Hobley,” said Liam, a few seats away at the head of the table. Not unkindly, but soberly. He gave Maggie a look of apology; she laughed it off.
Hobley righted himself and continued: “And he stops an’ says: ‘I ain’t here to burgle ye, mate. Yer mum just left her knickers in me barn, and I thought she’d like ‘em back.’ And oh, I was right ready to deck ‘im, too, for slander, ‘til he says: ‘By the by, the horse sends his best,’ and I’m gaspin’: ‘Uncle Henry?’”
He cackled himself right over, and Maggie couldn’t help but laugh too. She hadn’t been so carefree in so long, it felt a bit alien at first, but the mood throughout Liam’s little house was too joyous to ignore. Fifteen people had showed up at short notice, and every last one of them seemed to be someone worth knowing. It felt like a family, ready-made for any occasion.
Across from her, Colleen raised a glass—her fifth, by Maggie’s count—and gave her a wink. “How’s it suiting you so far?” she called over the din.
“Perfect!” said Maggie. “It’s perfect!”
She saw, from the corner of her eye, Liam’s face graced with a smile, so proud of himself. He was a funny one, that Liam Kelly: self-assured when he wanted to be, handsome without trying, but with a boyish sincerity just beneath the surface. When he’d invited her and Colleen to dinner on this, her last-ever day in Bytown, he was the perfect gentleman, like a prince come to bring his princess to the ball. But when she’d said yes, he’d nearly giggled in glee.
It made it hard to ignore him. Try as she might.
“How’d ye end up in Bytown, of all places?” asked a woman, Saoirse, on her right. “Ye can’t read a map right, or was the driver just drunk?”
Maggie laughed. “Happy accident, I guess.”
“Well yer half right,” said Saoirse. “I just worry you’re far too pretty for our little village. Makes the rest of us look bad, nay, Colleen?”
Colleen gave Saoirse a sour face. “Speak for yourself. I’m dazzling.”
“You mean drunk.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” said Colleen, taking another sip of her drink. “What do you say, Miss Maggie? How’d you like to be the second most beautiful woman in Bytown?”
Maggie made a show of giving it a lot of thought. “That does sound tempting…”
“It’s a lot of responsibility, to be honest. Having all the boys fall over every time you head out for a stroll. Walkin’ into posts, tripping in puddles…it takes a toll.”
“How do you manage?”
Colleen shrugged dramatically. “Natural talent, I suppose. Another virtue for my list.”
Just then, Hobley, who’d been sidetracked by another discussion entirely, burst into laughter again, collapsing onto the table—and knocking Maggie’s beer right over. It spilled onto her dress, soaking her, and she gasped.
“Oh hells, Maggie!” Hobley stammered. “Oh God, I’m—”
“No no, it’s fine,” she said, getting up to let the excess drain off. “Truly, it’s fine.”
Colleen stood too. “There’s a basin in the back. Let me help you.”
The house wasn’t very big at all—just one room, two dozen paces from end to end—but in the back corner, they felt apart from the crowd. Colleen soaked a rag in water, squeezing it out with the determination of a fairly drunk person trying to seem sober.
“So?” she asked, handing the cloth over. “What d’ya think?”
“About what?” smiled Maggie, dabbing her dress.
“About staying,” said Colleen. “About Bytown. About him.”
Maggie blushed. “Nothing bad,” she said. “To any of them, I mean. But—”
“But what? There’s no buts to be had, girl!”
“But I feel like…I don’t know. I got the feeling you and Liam were—”
Colleen laughed, snatching the cloth away and soaking it again. “I won’t lie, he an’ I have been dancing ‘round the question for years now. But that’s all it is, I think. A dance. He’s never looked at me the way he looks at you…”
“But we just met—”
“And sometimes that’s all it takes,” said Colleen. “For me, it was the same. The second I saw you, I knew we were going to be inseparable, like sisters, forever. And my father agrees, which is why he invited you to stay.”
“He didn’t invite me. You told him I was staying with you.”
“And he agreed.”
“I don’t get the impression he had much choice.”
Colleen handed back the cloth with a radiant smile. “They never do.”
Maggie could feel the air around them change, and a heartbeat later, Liam was standing next to her, wincing at the state of her clothes. “Hobley’s a fool,” he sighed. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m—”
“It’s touch and go,” Colleen teased. “We can’t be sure she’ll survive.”
“Ha ha,” Liam deadpanned. “I’m just making sure she’s got everything she needs.”
Colleen cocked an eyebrow at him. “Soon, boyo. Soon.”
“Thank you, though,” said Maggie, shyly, which made him smile. “It’s a lovely party. I’m glad I decided to stay for it.”
Liam’s ears were turning red, his smile getting goofier by the second. “It was my pleasure. Truly. Anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable—”
“Kelly!” Colleen mock-gasped, feigning scandal. “My virgin ears!”
He ignored her. “It really has been a pleasure, Maggie. But now I think I’d best take my leave, before Colleen says something none of us can un-hear.”
He took a step back, eyes still locked on Maggie, before turning on his heel and heading back for his seat. Colleen leaned in closer to Maggie and grinned.
“You felt that too, right? The tension in the air?”
Maggie dabbed her dress, though it was pretty well cleaned already. “Yes,” she said, shyly. “It was hard to miss. But I…” She set down the cloth. “I don’t know, I…”
“What?” asked Colleen. “What’s not to know? He’s handsome.” She counted off the points on her fingers, for clarity. “He’s articulate. Well, when you’re not around, anyway. He’s hard-working and diligent. He’s passionate and kind. And did I mention he’s handsome?”
“You did,” laughed Maggie.
“I’m seeing a big list of positives, and no negatives. Seems to me your answer is clear.”
“It’s just…” said Maggie, wincing at a memory.
“It’s just what? He’s too handsome?”
“He reminds me of my husband,” said Maggie, and Colleen’s smile faded.
“Your late husband,” she said, gently.
Maggie seemed pained by the thought of it. “The way he smiles at me, it’s like being pulled back in time to a place where I thought the world was better than it is. Every time he makes me laugh, I feel good—”
“That’s what you’re after! Feeling good!”
“But it scares me, feeling good.”
Colleen settled against the wall, pulling a memory out of her past, dusting it off.
“When I was a girl, I liked to climb trees,” she said. “The bigger the better. Straight up, or out over the water, it didn’t matter. More days than not, I sat down to sup with my hair full of twigs and bark. Drove my father mad, but he knew better than to try to stop me.
“One day, I’m up this big old oak at the county limits when a gust of wind catches my dress and gives me just enough of a twist to knock me off my footing. Down I go, bump, crump, splat. Broke my shoulder and my ankle, and had to limp all the way home in the rain.”
She set the cloth on the edge of the basin, straightened it out. “I stayed indoors for weeks, waiting for my bones to mend. But it wasn’t just that. I was afraid of going back out there, of climbing another tree. The thought of it gave me nightmares, sent me screaming in the night.”
“I can imagine…” said Maggie.
“My father came to me, however many weeks after the fall, and says he’s noticed I’m not goin’ out like I used to. Says he suspects my happy memories have become tainted by the pain of my accident, and I’m having a hard time sorting them out. So he takes my hand…”
She took Maggie’s hand and turned it over, palm-up. “And he says this is your joy. It’s all the things you love about climbing. And this, here, this is your hurt.” She pressed a fingertip into the centre of Maggie’s palm, nice and hard, so it stung. “It’s real and it’s awful, but it’s a tiny slice of who you are.” With her other hand, she closed Maggie’s hand around her own, squeezing it tight. “And if you embrace the rest of you, that pain is nothing much at all.”
Maggie smiled, nodded.
“I know it’s real and it’s awful,” said Colleen, “but you can’t let your pain define you. You need to get back out there, take hold of your joy, and climb that tree.”
Maggie laughed. “You told that whole story just for that one line, didn’t you.”
Colleen gave her a hug. “You know me so well already. We really are meant to be sisters.”
They turned around to face the table, which was still bustling and chaotic. Maggie looked at Liam, who was holding court with contagious cheer. Colleen nudged her. “You can do this,” she said. “Go get climbing.”
The second they were back in their seats, Liam looked over to Maggie and asked: “All better?”
“Much, yes, thank you,” she smiled.
“Hobley will be more careful in the future,” Liam said, glaring.
“Aye, no more half-empty drinks,” said Hobley. “I hereby swear t’finish ‘em all, lest they spill on dresses.”
“Very noble of you,” said Maggie.
Hobley gave a mock salute, and kept on drinking. “But in all seriousness, Maggie darlin’, I’m glad no harm’s been done. Saoirse had me worried ‘bout fabrics and laces and such…”
“Your dress is very pretty,” said Saoirse. “Unique, too. Where did you get it?”
“From back east,” said Maggie, suddenly self-conscious about her appearance. “It’s nothing, though, just—”
“Even the wives in Uppertown don’t wear such nice clothes,” Saoirse said, feeling the fabric on the sleeve, drunkenly. “You should cross on over, rub their noses in it.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Are your parents rich?” asked Hobley, feeling the other sleeve, though it was clear he wasn’t sure why.
“No, they—”
“Whereabouts east, did you say?” asked Saoirse.
“It’s just a little town outside—”
“Why’d you leave?” asked Hobley. “Was it unpleasant?”
Colleen saw what was happening, cleared her throat to make them stop, as Maggie stammered: “It was fine, but—”
“Was there a scandal?” asked Saoirse. “Did you flee?”
“No, I just—”
“Did someone die?” asked Hobley.
“My husband,” said Maggie. “My husband died.”
The room went quiet all at once. Maggie’s hands were trembling. Hobley and Saorise were stunned into silence.
“Jesus Christ, Hobley!” shouted Liam, up on his feet. “Damn you and your stupid mouth!” He stormed around the table, grabbing Hobley by the collar and throwing him to the floor. “You haven’t caused enough trouble already, eh? Had to double up?”
“Sorry! I’m sorry, Liam, I—”
Liam swatted his head angrily. “Not to me, you fool! To her!”
Hobley pleaded with Maggie. “I’m sorry, Maggie. Again. I didn’t know. I never would’ve—”
Maggie stood. Everyone paused. Liam looked ready to catch her, and everyone else seemed afraid of what she might do. She took a shaky breath, and said: “Excuse me, please.”
She rushed out the door, and straight out of sight.