The Silent Waters (27 page)

After he left, Cheryl came and sat beside me on my bed. “Why did you do that, Maggie? Why did you let him go?”

I leaned against my sister and rested my head on her shoulder, unsure how to answer. It felt wrong in my chest, letting him walk away, but he had to go after his dreams without me. When you loved someone, you let them fly away, even if you weren’t on the same flight.

“It’s not fair,” she said. “Because the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him—that’s my dream. That’s what I want someday.”

I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out. I gave Cheryl a sloppy smile, and she gave me a frown.

“I figured out what kind of activist I want to be,” my sister told me, taking my hand into hers. “I want to fight for you, for people like you. I want to fight for those who don’t have a voice, but are screaming to be heard.”

Calvin and the guys were asked to stay out in Los Angeles for a few more days. They’d been offered a recording deal with Rave Records, and I could almost feel their excitement all the way from the west coast.

Brooks called me to share the news. “I know we aren’t supposed to be talking…but…we did it, Magnet.” His voice was so low. “We did it. We got a deal. In a few weeks, it will be official, and we’ll be signing with Rave. You did this for us. You made this happen.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted this amazing thing to happen for them. Those boys deserved it. They deserved everything that came to them.

“I love you, Maggie,” he whispered before hanging up.

It was the last time I heard from him. Calvin called to tell the family the producer wanted them to get in the studio to record some samples while they worked on the contracts, and before I knew it, days became weeks, and weeks became months. Their lives started moving on the fast track, and I was frozen still. When September came, the band was invited to be an opening act for The Present Yesterdays on their world tour.

It seemed that in a blink of an eye, their lives were completely changed.

I tried my best to stop missing him. I read my books, I took my baths, and I listened to the iPod he’d left behind. I played his guitar, too. It turned out missing someone never became easier, it just became quieter. You learned to live with the longing pain inside you. You mourned the moments you’d shared and allowed yourself to hurt sometimes, too.

There were so many times I opened my phone and stared at his number, so many times I almost dialed him to check in. I told myself I’d only call once, just to hear his voice, but I never built up the courage to move forward. I knew deep down if I called once, I wouldn’t be able to go without calling him each day to hear his voice again.

Most days I hardly left my room, afraid of running into Mama.

She and Daddy were becoming complete strangers right before my eyes. Whenever they were in the same room, one of them left. Before, when Daddy used to leave for work, he’d kiss her forehead, but those kisses were nothing more than a memory now.

The seasons came, the seasons changed, and whenever the band came back into town, Brooks was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he had found his next adventure on the road. Perhaps our love was supposed to only be a passing moment in time.

“It’s on!” Mama hollered one night, running throughout the house. “It’s on!” Everyone came from their rooms, and for the first time in months, my family seemed like one unit as we stood around the radio in the dining room, listening to The Crooks’ first song on the radio. My chest tightened and I gripped the anchor necklace that had never left my neck as I listened to the words I knew. Our song…

She lies against my chest as her raindrops begin to fall

She feels so weak, floating aimlessly, slamming against the walls

Praying for a moment where she won’t begin to drown

Her heart’s been begging for an answer to the silent hurts her soul keeps bound

I’ll be your anchor

I’ll hold you still throughout the night

I’ll be your steadiness

during the dark and lonely tides

I’ll hold you close, I’ll be your light, I’ll promise you’ll be all right

I’ll be your anchor

And we’ll get through this fight

Listening to the words felt like the kiss I’d been craving. The words felt like he’d promised to come back to me. Everyone in the dining room started cheering and hugging—something we hadn’t done in so long. When Mama’s hands wrapped around Daddy’s body, he held her close. I swore I saw it, too, the place where their love used to exist. It was gone in a flash when they separated, but still, I had seen it, which meant somewhere inside them, that love still remained.

It wasn’t until the night I received a package in the mail that I allowed myself to cry over Brooks leaving.

A book.

Water for Elephants
by Sara Gruen.

Inside the book were yellow Post-its marking the best parts of the book, covered with his handwriting. In the back of the novel was a note, a note I read each day, over and over again for the passing years to come. The note was proof I’d never love another boy again.

A note to the girl who pushed me away

By: Brooks Tyler Griffin

October 22
nd
, 2018

Maggie May,

It’s been two years since I last saw your face. Twenty-four months of missing you, dreaming of you, and wanting you by my side. Everything reminds me of you, and whenever I come back into town, I stay at my brother’s house, unable to face you. If I saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to leave. I know I wouldn’t. My life is moving fast. Some days, I doubt I can keep up. Other days, I want to quit and come home to you. On those days, I remember how you pushed me away. This is what you wanted, and I have to honor your request.

Years before I knew what it meant to love you, I lay in your bedroom, holding your hand, and made you a promise. I gave you an anchor necklace and promised I’d be your friend, no matter what. I’ve done a lot of thinking, wondering how I could still be a friend while also respecting your space. This is the best way that came to mind. I’ll keep sending you novels with my thoughts; I hope this helps you remember that you’re never alone. If you ever feel lonely, read the notes in the books.

If there’s ever a day you call for me, I’ll be there.

I love you, Magnet, both as a lover and a friend. Those are two things that will never change, even when my heart needs a break.

Always yours,

Brooks Tyler

P.S. I’m always around to listen to your silence.

A note to the boy who’s on television

By: Maggie May Riley

August 1
st
, 2019

Brooks,

I saw you on
Good Morning America
today. Your hair is longer, isn’t it? Plus, is that a tattoo on your right arm? I couldn’t get a close enough look, but I could’ve sworn it was a tattoo. What is it of? I’m sending back my comments on
American Gods
by Neil Gaiman. I have a confession, though: I’ve already read it three times before you sent it to me. Seeing your side and your thoughts made it feel like a new read, though. You can’t really go wrong with any of his novels.

I finished reading
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. I’m crossing my fingers that you’ll enjoy it. I loved it, but I know you’re not as into period pieces as I am. It’s based around World War II, and while it highlights the effects of war, there’s still such a sweet, charming feel to the story. And it’s hilarious too.

Did I tell you Muffins passed away? I told Daddy to tell Mrs. Boone I was sorry for her loss. Her reply? “That damn thing lived a million years. Now I don’t have to waste money on cat food.”

What she really meant was she missed her more than words.

I miss her, too.

Always,

-Maggie

P.S. The Crooks’ new album is number one again this week—I’m not surprised. I’ve been listening to it on repeat for the past five weeks. You’re my favorite kind of sound.

A note to the girl who rereads books for fun

By: Brooks Tyler Griffin

January 5
th
, 2020

Magnet,

The band is in Tokyo this week, and Rudolph accidently ate fried pig ears, thinking they were organic fried pickles. It was probably the best moment I’ve ever witnessed. There’s this nasty cold going around, and I have fallen as the next victim to the plague. The amount of cold medicine I’ve been doped up on is worrisome, but still, the show must go on tonight. I’m hoping to pass the cold on to Calvin soon, just for laughs.

The book:
The Passage
by Justin Cronin.

The number of Post-its: one hundred and two.

I heard Cheryl got into Boston State University and is taking up a journalism degree with a minor in women’s studies. Next time you Skype with her, let her know how proud I am of her.

-Brooks