Maggie and The Professor

"You have to. I have another bedroom here." Maggie wasn't afraid of David, but she knew the situation was dangerous in its own way. Despite that, she had to admit to herself he was right. The guest room would have to do.

Maggie followed David into a room down the hall. He turned the lamp on next to the bed and surveyed their surroundings, which were just as minimal as the rest of the house and decorated in pale blues and soft silvers. There was something in the way that he turned down the sheets for her, carefully, almost with tenderness, that made her want to cry.

"Do you need anything? Pajamas? Glass of water?"

"I think I'm good. Thanks, David." And with one long last look, David had gone, shutting the door behind him. Maggie slipped out of her jeans, leaving her long collared shirt on, and climbed into bed. Alcohol always exhausted her yet kept her from sleep, and this night was no different. That she was in a strange bed didn't help either, and she was restless with thoughts of David.

Maggie didn't stir when she heard the door open, or when she felt him tug the blankets back to crawl into bed beside her. She had been expecting him, she realized. She wasn't surprised or scared or angry. Her next realization was that she had wanted him there with her, had willed him there.

David's breath was hot and honeyed, sweet with the smell of red wine. His presence relaxed her, and she didn't even jump when his fingertips brushed her shoulder. He traced mysterious shapes along her back for so long that she began to doze until he moved closer to her, so close she could feel him hard against her back. She stifled a gasp and felt the glimmer of her own arousal.

David knew what he was doing was careless at best, immoral at worst, but he was drunk to the point of no longer caring. The thoughts that he gave precedence to now were impulsive and animal, driven by desperation and the real possibility that he would never see her again after what he'd shared with her that night, after challenging her. He brought one hand to her waist and marveled at how slim she was underneath the clothes that always dwarfed her. He turned her toward him and drew her in to kiss her but she stopped him short, her hand against his chest.

"I can't, I can't," she whispered and heard his heavy sigh and the creak of the bed as he moved, the whisper of wood against carpet as he shut the door. He was gone, almost as if he'd never been there, the house oppressively quiet around her. And he was still gone in the morning when she woke, his Jeep absent from the driveway when she left, leaving her to wonder whether it was already the end.

*

David was shocked to see her name on the caller ID the next day. At this stage in their friendship (if that's what it was), he felt that she could vanish any minute. Hope seized him for a moment, but dread took its place and stayed with him as he answered.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"How are you?" She knew that she sounded stiff. It was impossible not to after what had happened, knowing what she'd have to ask him.

"Okay. What's up?" The stiffness was in his voice, too.

"I have a difficult favor to ask." She heard the sigh at the other end, more miserable than aggravated.

"All right."

"Well, Rafael is coming to visit for a couple days, until I'm done house-sitting. He...wants to meet you. I hate to put you in that kind of position, David, but I'm worried he'll suspect something, that something has changed, if you say no." Or maybe that was just the product of a guilty conscience, she wondered.

"But something has changed."

"I know, but..." Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear it.

"Fine." David sighed. He hadn't expected to hear from her ever again. And now, faced with an opportunity to see her one more time, he realized how helpless he was to refuse. Even if this last meeting would involve her fiancé. "What did the two of you have in mind?"

"He's fixing dinner tomorrow night. He told me to extend the invitation. I mean, you could just join us for coffee before dinner, if you'd be more comfortable." Her voice trailed off, leaving David aware of just how awkward she felt even asking him.

"Just text me the time, and I'll be there."

David regretted his decision as soon as he hung up. But, he reasoned, maybe it would be like the first time he saw Chase and his ex-wife as a couple. He had felt absolved somehow, instantly released from all of his anxiety and longing and resentment. He had even felt happy for both of them, at a point when he worried happiness was beyond him or somehow not for him. Maybe he would see how in love Maggie was with Rafael and realize it was meant to be, that he had misread everything that had happened between them, and that any interference on his part would be like meddling with fate.

Of course, David also fantasized about outdoing Rafael. Of being more intelligent, more charming, better looking, more in tune with Maggie. But logic dictated that the truth would lie somewhere between. He couldn't know the depth of her feelings for him, but he was almost certain that they were not for Rafael.

*

The dread prompted by Maggie's phone call remained with him, even as he stood on the Abbots' doorstep, waiting for her to let him in. But it was Rafael who answered.

"Hey there," David said as he forced a smile and shook Rafael's hand.

"Hey. Nice to finally meet you." The two men smiled blandly at each other and were relieved when Maggie appeared in the doorway, barefoot, in a simple black dress with long sleeves and little black beads at the neckline. It was the first time that he'd seen her wear a dress, he realized. It hugged everything. She wore her hair down with a little more makeup than he was used to seeing on her. She looked perfect, and he took a moment just to breathe.

"Looks like I turned up too late to introduce you two properly." She looked more nervous than either of them and began to rattle off just about any inane thing she could think of that the men might have in common. Neither of them paid attention.

David's initial reaction to meeting Rafael was dejection. As it was, Rafael's youth gave him an edge. But, even in his prime, David thought maybe the young man would have outshined him then. For the first time since he'd met Maggie, David felt painfully aware of his age. At first glance, it seemed as though there was nothing dislikeable about him. He was attractive, friendly, well-dressed. There was something, though. David sensed it. And rejected it, writing the feeling off as jealousy.

Rafael wrapped his arm around Maggie. Something about the gesture seemed possessive, almost territorial. David wondered whether Rafael sensed something amiss.

"Well, dinner's about ready if you guys want to sit down." She led the men inside, and David washed up at the kitchen sink, using the opportunity to get a better look at her as she scooped their dinner into a white china bowl. She caught him watching her and looked momentarily worried, but the worry softened into a wistful smile.

"Need any help with that?" he offered.

"I think I've got it. Thanks."

He took this as his cue to sit down. David admired the table setting, which was immaculate. She had obviously gone to a lot of trouble, and for a brief moment wondered whether it was for him or for Rafael's benefit. The centerpiece was a beautiful arrangement of pink rosebuds and baby's breath in a small wicker basket, and a little collection of white votive candles surrounded it. A glass bowl of colorful salad and a plate of dinner rolls occupied the fourth place setting.

Maggie set down the china bowl. "Help yourself, gentlemen." She insisted David serve himself first, and he took a little salad and a heap of their main course.

"What's this?" he inquired.

"It's grilled chicken and vegetables over saffron orzo." David and Rafael each took a bite.

"You made this all by yourself?" David inquired.

"I did." Maggie beamed, unable to disguise how pleased she was that David seemed impressed.

Rafael chimed in. "It's great, sweetheart."

"No help from Rafael, huh?" He kept his voice playful, but the accusation was there. And it was not lost on Rafael.

"I'm a nightmare in the kitchen, so I let her make the meals. She's incredible at it, as you can tell." He seemed dull, David thought. Common. His appeal had to be his looks. But he had an easy confidence, too. He could see Maggie being drawn to that. Regardless, he would never be able to convince himself that Rafael was good enough.

"I respect that decision," David fibbed tersely.

Maggie, for her part, felt herself sweating a little. It wasn't as bad as she had predicted, but the unspoken tension between the two men was noticeable and though it wasn't as bad as it could have been, it was almost unbearable to her. She hadn't foreseen that letting Rafael meet David might confirm rather than allay his worst suspicions. But there was a different kind of tension between her and David that was hard to miss.

It was then, during their terrible silence, that there was a faint knocking at the side of the house. Rafael was the first to comment. "Is that just how this house sounds when it settles?"

"Not really, not that I know of," David responded. "It's a relatively new house."

"I'm going to see what it is," Maggie announced. Rafael sat back, seemingly satisfied with this option, but David shook his head and rose.

"I'll check it out," he offered, his hand lightly touching her shoulder to keep her seated. She jumped almost imperceptibly at the contact. He indulged himself in a little childish behavior and made sure to give Rafael a dirty look as he left the room.

David strode down a hallway that led to a guest bedroom and bathroom, where Maggie must be staying, he reasoned absently. He stopped, listening intently. The sound came from inside the bedroom. The door was already ajar, and David slowly pushed it open.

The lights were off but the glow of a full moon illuminated the room. David's eyes took only a moment to adjust, and it was then he saw two men silhouetted in the soft light just outside the window. They were doing their best to open the window quietly. David sighed and slinked backward, hoping not to be seen by the would-be intruders. He turned to find Maggie just outside the door and forced her to take a step back before she could realize the full import of the situation.

"Maggie, whatever you do, don't panic. I need you to get to the phone now and call the police." He murmured to her calmly, evenly. "We've got a couple of guys outside who are trying to get in." Even in the darkness of the hallway, David could see the color drain from Maggie's face. She found herself unable to speak but managed a nod. And with that, she took off at a sprint down the hallway.

David knew Chase kept a gun in the bedroom. With any luck, the cops would arrive before he had to make use of it. He couldn't help but notice Rafael sitting dumbly at the kitchen table as he passed through on his way to find the Abbots' gun.

"What's going on?" Rafael asked.

"Burglars," David shrugged, then immediately launched himself up the stairs, wishing he'd had time to witness Rafael's reaction to the news.

What happened after that was a hazy, the time line out of order. He remembered finding the gun in the top drawer of Chase's nightstand. And when he ran downstairs, Rafael had been pacing and sweating in the kitchen, ignoring Maggie who sat calmly at the table with a massive steak knife in front of her. Her eyes glossed just a little as she looked at David.

Then David was at the guestroom door again, gun in hand. One of the burglars had managed to wrest himself halfway through the barely opened window. David lifted the gun, stilling a single tremor that ran through his hands, and waited. The man must have, at some point, seen David and reconsidered, because the last image he remembered was of the two men running across the muted green of the grass in the side yard accompanied by the distant wail of sirens. The adrenaline subsided only to be replaced by a delayed gnawing of fear.

He approached the window with the purpose of closing it but thought better. The cops would want to take a look at the room as is, though leaving it open like that made him uneasy. He heard a soft shuffling sound behind him and jumped, turning with the gun to find Maggie looking horrified.

"Sorry," he apologized, dropping his arm to let the gun rest at his side.

"What happened?"

"They ran away, I guess. Sounds like the cops are just about here, too. Where's Rafael?"

"In shock. Or denial. He's still in the kitchen, I guess." Her shoulders slumped as she sighed, the sound bordering on a sob. "I'm so glad everything's okay. That you're okay." She hugged him, and it surprised them both. Then Maggie pulled back slightly from the hug and kissed him. It was a kiss with intent, with the desire for something more. She felt the cold steel of the gun against her hip where he let it hang limply and searched for the heat of David's mouth.

Then they heard Rafael yell for Maggie and the urgent knock of the cops against the front door and the kiss was cut short, leaving them both pained and empty. They walked together side by side on their way down the hallway, slowly, unable to look away from each other.

They were awakened from their reverie by a police officer who barked questions at them and demanded that the trio step outside to talk with them. David gave his statement first, though he couldn't help but turn to look every other moment at Maggie and Rafael huddled together, whispering on the front doorstep.

And then there was Rafael's possessive embrace again as he and Maggie gave their statements to two police officers. David sighed and, feeling both drained by the incident and defeated by dinner, walked home by himself without saying goodbye to the couple.

And that was the last he'd heard from her. After what had happened between them, he'd expected it but, somehow, it still surprised him. The kiss in the guest bedroom had given him hope that she may have changed her mind, but her silence indicated otherwise. That the choice she'd made was Rafael smarted, and he spent most of his days at home, licking his wounds.

*

Before he knew it, it was February 14th. David had promised himself he would not use the day to linger over memories of Maggie or to imagine her wedding day, to wonder how beautiful she would look, and least of all, how her wedding night might go. Of course, he had never been any good at keeping promises he'd made to himself. He spent most of his day and the beginning of his night laying on the couch by the fireplace, staring at a muted television, an empty tumbler next to him on the end table. An open bag of potato chips sat on the floor beside him.

And then, the doorbell rang. David rushed through a mental list of who it could be, from the most likely to the least likely candidates: the mailman, the Abbots, a colleague. He brushed stray crumbs from his lap, narrowly avoiding crushing the bag with his feet, and rose to investigate.

He saw Maggie through the peephole and had to take a deep breath. He took a step back and closed his eyes, preparing himself. With equal parts optimism and fear, he opened the door.

"Maggie?" There she was, in a huge tunic and skinny jeans, hair tousled, looking haggard.

"Hi, David."

"Are you all right?"

"I..." She stopped, considered. "Actually, I am. I'm great."

"Aren't you supposed to be getting married right now?"

"I was, yeah."

"You didn't leave him at the altar, did you?" David dreaded the answer. But Maggie just laughed.

"Oh, no. I called it off. About a month ago." David did the math. She must have left him just after he'd met Rafael, after the "incident."

"I'm so sorry. Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, please." Maggie followed him in. He grimaced as he saw the mess by the couch and led her to the kitchen table instead where they sat next to each other, just as they did when they worked together. "And, don't be sorry. I'm happy. But my family isn't. They're angry. Rafael... is angry. His family is angry. I've been living out of my car for the past few days, just to take a break from all of it, and I decided maybe you were the one to take that break with. I figured you might be the one person around who isn't furious with me. Though I'm not even really sure about that."

"Living out of your car? Jesus. Have you eaten?"

"Oh, sure. I mean, I still have money. I've been going to work. The only difference, I guess, is where I sleep now."

"Why made you decide to call off the wedding?"

"Turns out I didn't really love him," she murmured. "I just didn't love him," she repeated, seeing the expectant look on his face. And she couldn't blame him. He deserved to hear more, a proper explanation, to hear that he was right about everything after all. Just not yet.

"Well, it's good to see you." David grew nervous.

"It's good to see you, too. I missed you." He smiled, wondering, as his optimism began to outweigh fear.

"Is there anything you need? A drink, maybe? You said you've eaten but I have a little food here, too."

"I could use some water."

"Just a sec." It took every ounce of David's strength not to leap to his feet and run to the cupboard. He was shot through with nervous energy at her unexpected arrival. Her presence had unmoored him. He had thought of her often and wondered whether he would see her again, but never seriously. There was only a fantasy of the reunion in his mind, never any real consideration of what he might say or do. In the fantasy, David kept his composure.

"Thanks," she responded as he handed her the glass. "I do have a favor to ask of you." David felt the briefest surge of nausea as he remembered the last favor she'd asked of him. "I've been using a YWCA shower. Would it be a huge imposition to ask for a real shower here? Just a short one."

"Oh, no." There was a welcome flood of relief at the simplicity of her request. "Of course not. Let me get you a towel."

When David returned from the linen closet in the hallway, towel in hand, Maggie hugged him. The gesture was impulsive, and it startled David. Even she looked surprised.

Maggie took the towel from him and thanked him. Just before she closed the bathroom door, she called out to him, and he turned. "You were right, David. It wasn't too late." And just like that, she had shut the door.

Once Maggie turned on the shower, David returned to the couch to collect his thoughts, which were moving too fast to grasp. He remembered his doubt in the beginning, the uncertainty as to what approach to take with her. His options. A conversation, a date, a kiss, a seduction. A conversation was too safe, and the idea alone of waiting for a date drove him crazy. Once he kissed her, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further.

He'd worried that maybe he'd lost his ability to seduce. He knew he hadn't forgotten. He was rusty, and she was special. He had more at stake. He had to admit that he was in unfamiliar territory, too. It didn't matter how attractive Maggie found him, there was no telling how she felt about their age difference. Except that she was here now, he thought. She had come to see him. After all that had happened. She had kissed him. And, although he wasn't so deluded as to think that Maggie's hug or remark was a signal or an invitation, he felt there had been the hint of a challenge in it. Something in the air had changed, something in the charge between them.

David breathed deeply in front of the bathroom door. This time, the reckless decision he had made was one made sober, and the anxiety that had plagued him was gone.

Maggie was brushing her hair with her fingers when David opened the door without knocking. She glanced down to make sure that her towel was still securely wrapped around her and nervously pulled at David's tattered old robe she had thrown over it. It occurred to her that she had never seen him look so solemn. Though she hadn't considered the possibility he might barge in on her, she realized that, just like that night he had slipped into bed with her, she wasn't surprised or even upset to see him there. Her pulse quickened as these thoughts assailed her, and she turned to face him.