Page 25 of Deception & Daylight
It’s late afternoon by the time I resurface from the room, my footsteps leading me down to the kitchen where I fix myself a cup of tea and head outside to the porch with my notebook and pen in hand. A change of scenery and even a new writing method can sometimes help me with my writer's block, but even that might not be enough this time. Uncertainty niggles at the back of my mind as I put pen to paper, trying to coax my thoughts into something coherent.
With each stroke of my pen, I lose all sense of time. Everything feels inadequate, forced — like the suffocating weight of the last two weeks is bearing down on me. The floor is littered with little crumpled pieces of my failures, each one a reminder of how far I am from where I want to be. Something feels broken inside me — a disconnect that’s hard to articulate. I’m searching for intimacy in my writing, but it feels impossible.
Like a tide pulling me under, flashes of the hours after the attack come into focus, more vivid than ever before. The hospital gown, the hushed voices ofthe nurses and police discussing evidence collection, as if I’m no longer even human — just an amalgamation of the evidence left behind. They speak in clinical terms, labeling me with words that feel foreign and cold. It’s as if my entire world has been turned upside down.
Idon’tremember.
Can’tfucking remember.
They keep asking what he looked like, if I heard his voice, but inside I’m a blank canvas. Reduced to nothing as I try to conjure up answers to their questions.
I can’t breathe.
Losing my grip, the tea falls to the ground, the delicate floral mug shattering to pieces on the porch.
“Maggie? Oh my god, Mags!” A soft voice echoes around me, but I can’t keep my mind focused on it. “It’s Lucy. You’re ok, honey. Breathe for me.” A hand makes soothing patterns along my back, gently coaxing me back to the present. “Inhale,” she breathes in with me. “And exhale. That’s it, sweet girl. Do it again for me.” We stay like that for several minutes, breathing together until the world comes back into focus. An overwhelming rush of shame floods my senses as my eyes land on Lucy’s concerned face. “It’s okay, honey. You’re okay.”
“I — I don’t know what happened. One minute I was writing and the next… Oh god. Your mug. I’m so sorry.”
“This old thing? Fifty cents at a yard sale. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’m more worried about you. Are you alright?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. There’s sympathy in her eyes, but it’s not stifling as I’ve come to expect — there’s something else there, too. Something knowing — a grief you would only understand if you, too, had been betrayed in the worst way. A kindred spirit in the most devastating sense. Without saying a word, she wraps me in a motherly embrace. I collapse into her arms, unable to contain the torrent of emotions as her warmth surrounds me.
“I feel drained,” I whisper, my body heavy and my mind foggy, like I could sleep for days and still wake up exhausted. In a moment of clarity, I pull myself together and step out of her embrace. I instantly miss the physical connection. “I’m sorry.” At best, the words are a garbled mess.
“Panic attacks can have that effect. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I should clean up first.”
“Absolutely not. You let me take care of it. Is there anything you need? Do you want to keep any of the papers?” I eye the disaster, feeling terrible for leaving it. “Don’t give it a second thought, sweet girl.”
“Ok,” I sigh. “No, I don't think there was anything worth saving.”
Was I worth saving?
“Maggie? It’s Lucy. Can I come in?”
I pull on one of the plush bath robes, its softness providing a fleeting moment of comfort as I wipe away the tears from my cheeks. Quietly padding over to the entry, I inhale a shaky breath with my hand on the doorknob. As the door creaks open, Lucy’s kind face comes into view. Without saying a word, she steps into the room and wraps me in a hug. “I just wanted to check on you. May I?” She gestures towards the sitting area near the floor to ceiling windows facing the lake.
“Sure.” I sink down into one of the plush armchairs, eyes fixed on the water crashing against the shoreline, steady and predictable. Lucy takes her place across from me, resting her hand on top of mine as she follows my line of sight. We sit quietly for several minutes until her gentle voice fills the silence.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here if you ever need to talk. I’ve had 53 years on this earth, Maggie, and I know, more than most, of the cruelty and the destruction humanity has to offer. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. And more than that, I do not wish it on a kind soul like you. I am sorry for whatever happened to you, sweet girl. I wish I could take away that pain. But please don’t lock it away inside yourself and let it snuff out your light. We all grieve in our own ways, for things we lose, and things that are taken from us by force. It’s how we come back to ourselves that truly defines who we are, not the act that brought us to the very depths of hell in the first place.”
Each word is a balm to my tattered soul as their meaning sinks into the very marrow of my bones. Without another word, Lucy squeezes my hand, leans over to kiss my forehead, then gracefully strides from the room, leaving me replaying her words over and over in my head until they become essential to my survival.
It’s how we come back to ourselves that truly defines who we are, not the act that brought us to the very depths of hell in the first place.
Miles
My phone vibrates in my back pocket as I’m rolling up the newest set of blueprints for the office remodel we’re working on. Picking it up, I see mom’s name flashing across the screen and I quickly tap accept.
“Hey Ma.”
“Miles.” The way she speaks my name has me jerking to a stop, immediately on edge. “I need you to come by the inn.”
“What happened?” I try to keep my voice steady, but worry is seeping in. I’m already moving towards my truck while silently signaling Luca, letting him know I’m needed elsewhere, and he waves me off without a second thought.
“I was fluffing the pillows in the sitting room while Maggie was out on the porch. I heard a crash, and I ran out as fast as I could. When I got there, she was having a panic attack.”
