Chapter Text
Love is not primarily a relationship to a specific person; it is an attitude, an orientation of character which determines the relatedness of a person to the world as a whole.
-Eric Fromm, The Art of Loving
Anne is being discharged this afternoon. Jack calls Max at work, his voice careful and dispassionate, to tell her that she needs to come to the hospital to fill out the release paperwork.
It has already been a very strange day. This is what Max is thinking when she drives to the hospital after work. For once, she has no idea what she’s planning to say. She feels on the brink of something, teetering uncertainly, wondering if the ground under her feet will shake or split open beneath her. Max knows that doesn’t make sense, because she’s already made the decision that’s going to change her foreseeable future.
Still. She stands outside the hospital for a long minute in the stifling summer heat, listening to the wind shake the trees across the road.
Max is hit with the sharp smell of antiseptic as she walks inside. It is not, strictly, a bad smell. Max has often heard people complain that they don’t like hospitals, but here, now, she can’t agree. How could she, knowing how Anne might have suffered without it?
It seems a little warmer in Anne’s room than the rest of the hospital. Anne is wearing fresh clothes, an ice pack pressed to her ribcage. Jack is, as always, talking, using one hand to gesticulate and the other to hold Anne’s. Madi and Vane are sitting off to the side, and they are the first to notice Max come inside.
“How are you feeling?” Max asks.
Anne grunts in reply. She’s refusing to meet Max’s eye. Which, Max supposes, is fair.
“Here.” Jack hands Max the paperwork. “You need to fill this out. We’ll pay you back for the copays. Just send us the bill.”
Max takes it. There’s no other chairs in the room, so she just stands awkwardly by the door, trying to think of what she wants to say.
“I killed the development plans,” Max says.
“What?” Jack says, a little snappish. Max takes a deep breath.
“That land is not going to be bought out,” she says. “There are no plans to develop luxury housing complexes by the river anymore. You will be staying in your home. I made sure of it.”
“Your agency was riding on that,” Madi says, quietly. “You spent years working towards this.”
Max nods. “It puts my company at risk,” she allows. “And if I’m not lucky, it might sink us.”
“Why’d you do it, then?” Jack asks.
It’s hard, being so honest in front of so many people. Max fidgets with the rings on her fingers, but keeps her eyes on Anne. Anne, who has always grounded her, and can ground her now, too.
“I couldn’t do it anymore,” Max confesses. Then she shakes her head and corrects herself. “I didn’t want to do it anymore. You are all so strong. So sure in your love for each other. It’s been a long time since I had this in my life. This kind of… this kind of loyalty.” Tears are threatening now, and she swallows them. “I’m so sorry for betraying that. I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do with it. But I do now.”
She stands there for another moment, still looking at Anne. She can’t bring herself to look anywhere else, but Anne still won’t look at her. “I’ll go fill this out,” Max mumbles, waving the paperwork. She retreats into the hallway, letting the door close behind her.
Max sinks down to sit on the floor. She presses the heel of her hand into her browbone, trying to gather herself, and then she starts filling out the paperwork. At first, she pushes her pen to the page too hard, leaving her name with black blots.
Then the door opens, and Anne slides gingerly down the wall to sit next to Max.
“Missed you,” she says. Her voice is full of gravel, rough and low, but it’s sweet too, in a way Anne reserves just for Max. She was afraid she’d never hear that sweetness again.
“I missed you, too.” Max looks up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. “I’m sorry.”
“You already said that,” Anne reminds her.
“I know,” Max says quietly. “But I need to apologize to you. What I almost did to you is something Eleanor did to me, a long time ago. I never want to make you feel like you’re not enough, or that my love for you isn’t important. Because you are, and it is, and I’m not ever going to protect money or power over you ever again.”
Anne’s hand is bruised, and there are scabs on her knuckles, and the hard skin on her palms is rough. Max loves this hand, loves the way it feels in her own, loves Anne for twining their fingers together without saying another word.
They sit there quietly as Max finishes the paperwork. Anne lets Max help her to her feet, and together they go back inside.
The five of them emerge from the hospital together. Vane bumps Max with his shoulder, and he’s so much bigger than her that it hurts a little, but he doesn’t seem angry.
“You better find me a new goddamn house,” he says.
“Deal,” replies Max.
Anne doesn’t let go of Max’s hand until the last possible second, with all of them standing in the parking lot, the asphalt shimmering with heat. Jack, Vane, and Anne drive off in their cherry-red truck, and Max stands with her hand closed, as though she might be able to hold on to the feeling of Anne, warm and solid and there.
Max is getting in her car to leave when Madi catches her by the shoulder.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks.
Max’s heart sinks. Madi doesn’t look angry, but she supposes she couldn’t expect forgiveness so quickly. “Yeah,” she forces out. “Sure.”
On the edge of the parking lot, there’s a few thick trees, casting a shadow over a bench. Max flattens her palms on the bench as they sit, feeling how warm the stone is, even in the coolness of the shade. She waits for Madi to speak, and for a moment, it feels just like old times, sitting companionably like they used to.
“I was angry with you,” Madi says quietly. “It felt like even after everything we talked about, you were just going to forget all about it. For your company. It felt like shit. I couldn’t figure out why I was taking it so personally.” Madi pauses, seeming to gather her thoughts. “Eleanor and I were best friends growing up. She used to believe in this town. She used to believe in the people here, in this community, like I did. And I watched her change. I watched her stop caring. And she still expected us to be friends.” Madi shakes her head. “It felt like you were doing the same thing.”
Max doesn’t say anything. She adds Madi’s friendship to the list of Eleanor’s casualties that she keeps in her head.
“You were trying to do the same thing,” Madi says. “But you didn’t. And I know that was hard for you, because you have more to gain and more to lose than Eleanor did. So I want to tell you that I’m really proud of you.”
Unexpectedly, Max feels a lump in her throat. She tries to smile. “It wasn’t that hard,” she says lightly. “You’ve been talking in my ear for so long.”
Madi laughs, sounding a little choked up herself. “I’m glad you listened.”
“You’re hard not to listen to,” Max replies.
It’s been a long time since they spoke. Max didn’t realize how much she missed Madi.
“I’m glad we’re friends again,” Madi says. She looks at Max. “There’s so much I need to tell you.”
“It’s only been-”
“About two months,” Madi says. “Since we talked properly.”
Max looks at her, surprised. “You counted?”
“Well,” Madi says. “Not exactly.” She looks unsure, which is such an unfamiliar expression on her that Max frowns.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yes,” Madi says quickly. “Yeah. I’m good. I just haven’t told anybody yet, except my parents.”
“Told anybody what?” Max says. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s been two and a half months since John and I broke up,” Madi says carefully. “And, you know, me and him talked. We’re not getting back together. Neither of us want that.”
“Okay,” Max says. She has absolutely no idea where this could possibly be going.
Madi takes a deep breath. She seems to throw caution to the wind. She pulls her feet up onto the bench and turns her whole body to face Max.
“I’m pregnant,” she says.
Pregnant. This is a terrifying word, for Max. Something world-changing, something that could destroy all security and safety. But there is so much joy pouring from Madi right now, excitement barely held back, that Max feels herself smiling.
“Oh my God,” Max says. “Oh my God. Really?”
Madi nods. “I know it’s a lot,” she rushes to say. “John is going to be involved, and I know he lives with you-”
“Oh my God.” Max can’t resist laughing. “I’m not- this is good news, Madi, right?”
A smile, slow and warm, spreads over Madi’s face, and she nods. “Yes,” she says, with firm conviction. “This is good news.”
Max grabs Madi’s hands. “Don’t worry. Okay? Your parents will be there for you. Me and Silver will be there for you. Jesus. Do you know how loved this baby is going to be?”
Madi lets out something halfway between a sob and a laugh. “After the last couple days?” she says. “I do.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around Max, and Max hugs her back tightly. “I really fucking missed you, you know.”
Things don’t go back to normal. They couldn’t, after all that’s happened. Instead, time does as it always seems to do: it marches on. The summer is drawing to a close, and the tourists are leaving. This year, the summer heat seems to linger.
It’s a good evening, warm, with a talkative breeze that rings the windchimes, rustles the trees, seems to touch Max’s cheek in greeting as it passes her. She’s out on the porch, enjoying the last of the sunlight, when Silver’s car pulls into the driveway. It’s tiny and shitty parked beside her own, still with Connecticut license plates.
Silver comes to rest in the chair opposite her own. He looks so much like he did when she first met him. Maybe his hair is a little longer, or his boots are a little more scuffed. The greeting he offers, certainly, is nothing like the first one he ever gave her.
“Madi is pregnant,” he says. There is nothing positive and nothing negative in his expression, only a deep shell-shock.
“Yes,” Max says.
“Oh my God,” Silver says. “You knew?”
“Yes,” Max says, trying not to laugh. “She’s probably told everyone by now.”
“You mean I’m the last one to know?” He gapes, and then scrubs a hand down his face. “She loves making me look fucking dumb, huh?”
At that, Max does laugh. “Well, you make it so easy,” she says.
“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no anger there.
They sit, Max rocking back and forth in her chair, Silver with his feet planted firmly on the creaking porch. She looks at him.
“Are you scared?” she asks.
“Aren’t I supposed to be?”
Max shrugs and then looks back at the sky, the fading sunlight. Fireflies are starting to wink in the darkness of the front yard, flitting between the branches of the big tree. The porch light shines steadily.
“I used to be scared of getting pregnant,” she says. “Especially back in New Orleans. I knew so many girls whose entire lives blew up because of a baby.”
All that time ago, Silver might have interrupted, made a joke, maybe. Now, he waits for her to continue.
“Parents who abandoned her.” Max reaches into her pocket for a cigarette. “No boyfriend, or a shitty one, maybe. Friends or sisters or cousins who were just as overworked and tired as she was, so it was hard to help her. Or maybe nobody at all. That was me,” she adds. “No parents. No boyfriend. No family. No friends I could really count on. So if I got pregnant, I wouldn’t be able to raise it. Maybe I wouldn’t even be able to love it.”
Silver passes her a lighter, and she takes it. She lights her cigarette and then passes it back.
“My mom was like that.” Max watches the cigarette smoke curl through the air. “She loved me. But she had nothing else.”
For a moment, Max thinks she’s said too much, bared a part of herself that should have stayed hidden. But Silver is looking at her, soft and without judgement, and Max takes one deep breath and keeps talking.
“But I also knew girls who did have all that,” she goes on. “A family. Friends who loved them. And even though it was hard, because it’s always hard, they loved being a mom. Because the baby was loved, and the mother was loved, too.”
In the low light, Silver looks stricken.
“It seems insane, doesn’t it?” Max asks softly. “That a child could be raised well?”
“Yeah,” he says roughly. “But this one will be.”
“Yeah,” Max agrees. “It will be.”
This September is an unusually warm one. While Anne recovers, the six of them spend their time together at Jack and Anne’s, swimming in the river and eating lunch outside. Max sits by Anne, cutting fruit up into cubes for her even though Anne complains that she can do it on her own. Madi and Vane swim all day, splashing Jack and Silver where they sit on the riverbank.
“I’m fucking reading!” Jack shouts. He waves his book at them. “You goddamn assholes! It’s made of paper!”
“Books usually are,” Silver says lazily. He’s lying back on a towel, shirt off and hair loose, sipping from Jack’s drink. “Stop bitching, man.”
“That’s like telling him to stop breathing,” Vane calls from the water.
“Fuck you, Charles!” Jack shouts.
Vane waggles his eyebrows at Jack. “Come and get it,” he says. “Fuck!” Madi has sprung up from the surface, spraying him with water. Jack laughs.
“Not so nice, is it!” he yells.
“What are they doing?” Anne asks. She and Max are sitting farther up the riverbank, Anne lying on her back and staring up at the sky. Max sits next to her, cutting the watermelon that Vane brought.
“I don’t know,” Max says airily. “Open up.”
Anne opens her mouth and lets Max place a piece of watermelon on her tongue. “You know I can eat by myself,” she says, not sounding very upset.
“Of course you can, my love.” Max pops a piece into her mouth. “But can’t I take care of you?”
Anne grunts. She opens her mouth, a silent request for more watermelon. Max laughs and acquiesces. She adjusts Anne’s ice pack where it rests against her ribcage.
“How are you feeling?” Max asks.
“Good,” Anne replies. This is her answer every time Max asks about her health, even on days when Jack tells Max that Anne hasn’t been feeling well today. Still, she seems perfectly sincere every time she says it.
“Does anything hurt?” Max prods. “How is your head?”
“Ribs hurt,” Anne says. “Head’s a little fuzzy.”
“Well, that’s not good, then,” Max points out.
“It’s good,” Anne insists. “‘Cause you’re here.”
And that, well, Max can’t bring herself to refute. She leans down to kiss Anne. Her lips taste like watermelon.
Jack and Anne’s house is smaller than Max’s, so when it’s time for dinner, they cram onto mismatched chairs around a table that is too small for the six of them. Madi and Jack argue about the novel he’s reading. Silver keeps interrupting them to push more food onto Madi’s plate, which she lets him do even though it makes Vane laugh. With Anne’s concussion, Vane’s recovery, and Madi’s pregnancy, all three of them have stopped drinking, so there is entirely too much beer left over for Jack to get drunk off of. This delights Silver, because Jack only finds him funny when he’s drinking. Anne’s little finger is curled around Max’s under the table, and although Anne doesn’t talk much, she’s sharply attuned to the rest of them, engaged and smiling.
It’s a good night. Max drives home, Silver half asleep in the passenger seat. The sky is so clear, the moon so bright, that she can see him plain as day, opening and closing his cell phone to see if Madi’s called him yet.
“Think she got home okay?” he mumbles sleepily.
“She said she would call when she did,” Max reminds him. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” Silver protests. He puts his phone in his pocket, and looks toward her as they pull into the driveway. The light on the porch is glowing. Max, absentmindedly, reaches one hand out the window. The leaves of the big tree brush against her fingers. When she turns off the car, she can hear the windchimes, tinkling faintly.
The house is warm and dark when they step inside. Silver’s phone rings, suddenly, and they both jump. He opens it and puts it on speaker.
“Hi, John.”
“Hi, Madi,” Silver and Max say at the same time.
“Hi, Max,” Madi replies. “I’m glad there’s a witness. He can’t say I didn’t call.”
Max laughs. “Good night,” she says.
“Night,” Madi says, yawning.
“Good night, Madi,” Silver says softly. The call ends.
It is a good day, a good dinner, a good night in a long line of many. Max thinks on how long it has taken her to reach this, how much she has suffered for this good night. Perhaps she isn’t all the way okay, not yet, but it seems all right now. With all she gives, and with all she has been given in return, Max can rest easy on stable ground.
I’ll rewrite this whole life and this time there’ll be
so much love,
you won’t be able to see beyond it.
-Warsan Shire, Backwards
There’s love of children, love of self, love of God, love of a partner. And all of them have a different shape, but all of them is the same in the end. It’s about sensitivity. It’s about passion. It’s about the unconditional giving of self to another person. And there’s love of humanity. That’s the love that is right now needed most. Love of humanity.
-L’Antoinette Stines
Rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation. Healing is an act of communion.
-bell hooks, All About Love