30: Maggie

The next few days were spent in qui­et ob­ser­va­tion. Mag­gie had tak­en Ma­ma Dee’s pass­ing hard. Brig­it had guessed that she would. It had been a hard year for Mag­gie. First, she had lost her lover of ten years mi­nus one day, and then, she had lost her dear­est friend. To top it all off, Mag­gie was left to deal with the af­ter­math of it all seem­ing­ly on her own.

The memo­ri­al ser­vice was held the next Sat­ur­day. The church Mag­gie had re­served for the oc­ca­sion was huge, but she soon found that it had not been big enough. The num­ber of lives Ma­ma Dee had touched over the years had been unimag­in­able. Not on­ly were the cur­rent res­idents of the wom­en’s shel­ter present, but past res­idents were in at­ten­dance as well. They all spoke through tears of grat­itude for the var­ious acts of love Ma­ma Dee had shown them. Be­yond that, Ma­ma Dee’s peers and col­leagues were present to pay homage to the small wom­an for the gi­ant ex­am­ple they all des­per­ate­ly want­ed to fol­low. Then there was the spec­ta­cle of the gay com­mu­ni­ty to add to it all. The drag queens were present, decked out in their finest at­tire to hon­or the lit­tle old black la­dy that had treat­ed them as though they were one of her own – nev­er judg­ing, nev­er harsh. She had loved them all no mat­ter what, and now, they all min­gled to­geth­er in the biggest show of love for one small wom­an.

Brig­it had turned to Ma­ma Dee where they stood at the back of the hall and found the lit­tle old wom­an wip­ing her eyes. The tears weren’t re­al­ly falling, but Brig­it knew it would be some time be­fore Ma­ma Dee no longer felt the same phys­ical sen­sa­tions she had felt as a mor­tal.

“I guess I best get back to work,” Ma­ma Dee sniffed when then pas­tor of the church had fi­nal­ly end­ed the last prayer and thanked ev­ery­one for com­ing.

“How’s that go­ing for you?” Brig­it asked qui­et­ly. Ma­ma Dee had jumped at John’s pro­pos­al once she heard there were chil­dren in­volved. Even in death, Ma­ma had been quick to rec­og­nize that her love for them could still be shared.

“I’m get­ting there,” Ma­ma as­sured her. “I met Mary yes­ter­day. She’s a won­der­ful one. I re­al­ly en­joyed talk­ing with her.”

Brig­it nod­ded and smiled. Had Ma­ma Dee told her of the meet­ing when Brig­it had first start­ed, she would have been shocked that a con­ver­sa­tion could have tak­en place be­tween the two wom­en giv­en Mary’s use of an an­cient lan­guage. Now, how­ev­er, Brig­it found her­self ac­cept­ing the state­ment with­out fur­ther thought. Ma­ma Dee had al­ways had an open mind. She would be able to grasp the spir­it world’s nu­ances a lot quick­er than Brig­it had.

“How’s our girl get­ting on?” Ma­ma Dee asked as they turned and fol­lowed the crowd from the church.

“Her sad­ness is over­whelm­ing right now. She hasn’t been sleep­ing well, ei­ther,” Brig­it re­lat­ed. Ma­ma Dee shook her head and sighed heav­ily.

“The poor ba­by prob­ably thinks she’s all alone in this world now,” she said. “You go on home and take care of her. I’ll let John know it’ll be a cou­ple more days.”

“Thank you, Ma­ma,” Brig­it said be­fore watch­ing her friend turn and walk away from the church. Brig­it con­tin­ued to watch un­til she felt Mag­gie be­hind her.

Slow­ly, Brig­it turned and found Mag­gie arm and arm with Tom Ben­nett. Brig­it felt her­self be­gin to smile at the sight of their long time friend at Mag­gie’s side. Tom had al­ways been a good friend, shar­ing in the many good and hap­py times the two wom­en had. She was glad to see him present to­day, just as he had been present at her own fu­ner­al. His usu­al­ly hap­py de­meanor was somber at the mo­ment, but his pres­ence was pro­vid­ing a slight mea­sure of com­fort to Mag­gie as far as Brig­it could tell.

“I’ll walk you home. The book store can stay closed for a few more hours for all I care,” Tom said as Brig­it fell in be­side them. She not­ed that Mag­gie made no protest as they be­gan to walk back to their apart­ment. Usu­al­ly, Mag­gie would have in­sist­ed that Tom not de­lay in main­tain­ing the ev­ery­day busi­ness of the small book store he owned down­town.

“I just can’t be­lieve it all,” Mag­gie sighed. “First, Brig­it – now Ma­ma Dee. Who’s next?”

“You shouldn’t think like that, Mag­gie,” Tom chid­ed his com­pan­ion as they strolled along.

“He’s right,” Brig­it agreed out loud.

“Ev­ery­thing hap­pens for a rea­son, dar­ling. You know that,” Tom con­tin­ued. “Who are we to ques­tion the uni­verse?”

“You’ve been hang­ing out with So­la Du­Lach again, haven’t you?” Mag­gie laugh­ing­ly ac­cused. Brig­it felt her­self smile at the jab and the fact that Mag­gie was laugh­ing – if on­ly half-​heart­ed­ly. So­la Du­Lach was Tom’s best friend, a strange wom­an in her and Mag­gie’s opin­ions. Tom of­ten rose to the de­fense of So­la’s odd­ity, but now, he on­ly shrugged.

“Some­times, So­la can make sense,” he of­fered. “She sends her con­do­lences, by the way.”

“I ap­pre­ci­ate them,” Mag­gie replied soft­ly.

“Would you like me to bring Shaz­am! over? He would be won­der­ful com­pa­ny, you know. He ab­so­lute­ly adores you and would cer­tain­ly keep you dis­tract­ed,” Tom of­fered. Mag­gie on­ly shook her head in de­cline. Shaz­am! was Tom’s five year old Welsh Cor­gi, a small dog with big ears and an even big­ger pen­chant for cheese and crack­ers – Brig­it’s fa­vorite snack.

“I don’t think Shaz­am! liked me as much as he liked Brig­it. She fed him cheese and crack­ers ev­ery day dur­ing that week he stayed with us while you were in Paris,” Mag­gie re­flect­ed, al­low­ing a bit­ter­sweet smile to alight on her face. “That made them per­ma­nent friends.”

“It made him poop or­ange for a week is what it did,” Tom ar­gued with a laugh. “She could have giv­en him any­thing be­sides ched­dar! Poor thing,” he con­tin­ued laugh­ing as he shook his head.

It was then that Brig­it no­ticed that Tom’s crew cut was fresh. The white line across the nape of his neck peeked up from un­der his col­lar like a flash of white light on a dark­ened day. Up­on clos­er in­spec­tion, she not­ed that his cheeks were over­ly smooth and his mous­tache was neat­ly trimmed. Tom Ben­nett knew all too well the dis­taste Ma­ma Dee had pos­sessed over a hand­some man fail­ing to main­tain his ap­pear­ance. As a fi­nal re­spect to be paid, Tom Ben­nett had tak­en his time in look­ing re­spectable to­day. Brig­it won­dered briefly if Ma­ma Dee had seen this and ap­pre­ci­at­ed it.

“Well, here you are,” Tom an­nounced as they stopped in front of the build­ing where Mag­gie now resid­ed alone. “If you change your mind about Shaz­am!, just give me a call. Most like­ly he’ll be with me at the book store,” Tom said as he wrapped his arms around Mag­gie and gave her a strong hug. Mag­gie on­ly nod­ded against his broad chest.

“Thank you, Tom,” she man­aged to gasp.

“I’ll call you to­mor­row,” he promised as he fi­nal­ly re­leased her and stood back. Mag­gie on­ly nod­ded again. Brig­it silent­ly watched on. She was grate­ful for Tom – no mat­ter how odd his friends were.

She stood with Mag­gie as they watched Tom Ben­nett walk away. Once he was out of sight, Brig­it turned her dark eyes back to Mag­gie. Mag­gie looked so tired, Brig­it thought. She won­dered how her part­ner would ev­er re­cov­er her sense of hap­pi­ness and con­tin­ue liv­ing af­ter this. It seemed that Mag­gie’s in­ner light had been grow­ing fainter over the last few days. Brig­it couldn’t help but ac­knowl­edge the deep con­cern grow­ing in­side her as she watched help­less­ly.

Once they were in­side the apart­ment, Brig­it watched as Mag­gie stopped in the liv­ing room and took a long slow look around. So many mem­ories sur­round­ed her. Was this part of the prob­lem? Mag­gie sighed heav­ily and turned to go to the bed­room. Brig­it fol­lowed silent­ly, wish­ing there was some­thing she could do or say so that Mag­gie knew…

Mag­gie stopped at the bath­room and opened the medicine chest over the sink. Brig­it leaned against the door frame and watched her part­ner take down the brown pre­scrip­tion bot­tle. They were Brig­it’s sleep­ing pills, pre­scribed dur­ing the spring be­fore her ac­ci­dent. She had suf­fered a se­ri­ous bout of in­som­nia with the wor­ry over a large prod­uct line her com­pa­ny had been try­ing to launch be­fore the new buy­ing sea­son was to be­gin. The stress of the dead­lines had been keep­ing Brig­it awake for days on end, caus­ing ex­treme ex­haus­tion. Mag­gie had not thrown out the pre­scrip­tion that Brig­it had for­got­ten about af­ter the in­som­nia had fi­nal­ly been con­quered. Brig­it watched as Mag­gie shook two of the pills from the con­tain­er and then paused. The thought passed quick­ly through her dark brown eyes, but not so quick that Brig­it had been un­able to see it. Her heart lurched as she read it clear­ly. Mag­gie’s sad­ness was so over­whelm­ing that she had giv­en thought to tak­ing enough of the sleep­ing pills to make sure she would sleep for­ev­er…

“No, just take two,” she said. “Two is enough.”

Mag­gie sighed again and plopped the two pills in­to her mouth be­fore re­plac­ing the cap on the bot­tle and re­turn­ing it to the medicine chest. Brig­it sighed in re­lief be­fore fol­low­ing Mag­gie to the bed­room. She watched as her part­ner stretched out on the bed. Silent­ly, Mag­gie reached for the pic­ture on the ta­ble. Brig­it thought she heard the sound of an­oth­er crack form­ing in Mag­gie’s heart as she gazed at the pho­to in the frame.

“You’re not alone, sweet­heart,” Brig­it said qui­et­ly, even though she knew Mag­gie couldn’t hear her.

“Brig­it?”

The sound of Mag­gie’s voice shocked Brig­it.

“Brig­it? If it’s you, let me know, please,” Mag­gie asked out loud, clos­ing her eyes al­though she spoke. “Move some­thing, say some­thing. Just let me know you’re here,” she plead­ed.

Silent­ly, Brig­it crossed the room and stood be­side the bed. Mag­gie’s body was re­lax­ing. The sleep­ing pills were work­ing quick­ly. Slow­ly, Brig­it reached out and touched her part­ner’s cheek. It was warm be­neath her fin­ger­tips. Sud­den­ly, a sob es­caped Mag­gie, but Brig­it was un­sure whether it was from re­lief or deep sad­ness.

“It’s okay, sweet­heart,” Brig­it cooed.

“Why did you have to leave me?” Mag­gie sobbed heav­ily.

“I didn’t mean to, Mags. It was an ac­ci­dent. Can you re­al­ly hear me?”

“Yes,” Mag­gie an­swered, strug­gling to con­trol her grief.

Brig­it sank down on­to the edge of the bed and watched Mag­gie in­tent­ly. She was re­lax­ing more and more de­spite her grief’s vi­olent rip­ples. The sleep­ing pills were ob­vi­ous­ly still po­tent af­ter all this time. Mag­gie would be asleep soon. Brig­it re­al­ized that this was her op­por­tu­ni­ty to com­mu­ni­cate with her lover. She was in the be­tween realms of sleep and lu­cid­ity. Mag­gie’s mind was opened. She would be able to hear Brig­it clear­ly with be­ing caught be­tween the two realms. Sud­den­ly, there was so much that Brig­it want­ed to tell her.

“I’m still with you, ba­by girl,” Brig­it fi­nal­ly said, push­ing Mag­gie’s curly brown hair back from her face. “I haven’t bro­ken my promise. I’m not re­al­ly gone.”

“I miss you, so much, Bree,” Mag­gie sighed. “Some­times, I be­lieve I can still feel you hold­ing me at night. It hurts so bad­ly to wake up in the morn­ing. I just want to be with you.”

“Not yet, Mags. It’s not time. You’re still alive. You need to keep liv­ing, sweet­heart. There’s a life wait­ing for you. You need to find it,” Brig­it urged qui­et­ly.

“I had a life with you,” Mag­gie ar­gued.

“I know. I’m still with you. I’ll al­ways be with you. I won’t let any­thing hap­pen to you,” Brig­it promised. She could feel Mag­gie’s en­er­gy be­gin­ning to wane. She could al­so feel Mag­gie be­gin­ning to strug­gle against the sleep that was be­gin­ning to over­pow­er her.

“I love you, Bree,” Mag­gie slurred.

“I love you, too, ba­by. Go to sleep now. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not go­ing any­where yet. I’ll stay,” Brig­it cooed. As if to re­in­force her promise, she stretched out be­hind Mag­gie and wrapped her arms around her. In re­sponse, Mag­gie scoot­ed her body clos­er – in­tent on feel­ing Brig­it com­plete­ly wrapped around her.

“To­mor­row, I want you to throw the pills away,” Brig­it whis­pered as she felt the last weight of sleep set­tle on Mag­gie. A sleepy and un­in­tel­li­gi­ble re­ply was heard be­fore the first deep breath came that sig­naled Mag­gie’s sub­mis­sion to that which had been elud­ing her for days now. She was asleep.