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Section 4

Posted on Monday, 19 April 2004

November 17th, Monday

Max was in my office bright and early Monday afternoon, dissecting the football match from Saturday. His general consensus: The children had done very well.

Maggie stopped by, a little flustered.

"Oh, you've got company. Hi, Max."

"Hello, Maggie." She ignored him, for the most part.

"Um, Brian. About Saturday night; let's just forget about it, okay? I shouldn't have- I didn't mean to- Ah. I was out of line. Please, forgive me."

"Already forgotten. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I'll see you later." She sighed with relief. I tried to smile, but it was abortive and forced.

"What did she do?" Max asked eagerly after she left.

I told him the story, slowly and reluctantly.

"She kissed you?" Max was incredulous. I nodded. "And you didn't do anything after that?" I shook my head. "You're an idiot. A complete ee-diot.

"It didn't mean anything," I said. "She had just told me not half an hour before that she didn't have time for a relationship."

"Obviously she was lying! She kissed you. That means something. When are you going to accept the fact that she likes you? She takes you out to dinner; asks to interview you for the paper-got a big kick out of it, by the way; flirted with you shamelessly at the Pimps and Hos party; had you watch her son; and now she kissed you. Bite the bullet and ask the woman out!"

"Impossible. As you see, she kissed me on impulse (which doesn't surprise me a bit) and is regretting it. I'm not going to risk it on something that's not a sure thing. I'm too old for that."

"You are not old! Tony Randall's wife is fifty years younger than he is, and they've got two kids. I don't want to hear anything about you being too old. You're only forty."

"Not yet," I grumbled.

"Fine, thirty nine. But you keep telling yourself that you're an old man and one of these days you'll become one, hunched over, limping, with a cane, calling students 'young whippersnappers' and being a pain. Hell, you're a pain now, moping around because for some unknown reason you can't work up the guts to ask Maggie out."

"You're not helping, Max."

"How can I help? Unless you want me to saunter up to her and ask her out for you."

"That's an idea."

"Yeah, and it's a stupid idea."

It was eating at me, though. Max was right, for once. Maggie had kissed me, and I wanted to know why. An impulse wasn't good enough of a reason. I waited until later, after football practice, when she came to pick up Dylan.

"One moment, Maggie," I asked, pulling her aside.

"Sure. Dylan, please wait in the car."

He looked at us strangely but complied.

"Maggie, about Saturday night-"

"I said I was sorry, you said you'd already forgotten it."

"I lied. Why did you kiss me?" I could tell she wasn't happy, but I needed to know. She sighed.

"I wanted to."

"Why?"

"Because you needed to be kissed."

"And what makes you think I needed to be kissed?"

"Because I think I know you pretty well. You're not exactly mysterious. You needed to be kissed, just like you need to be loved. I could handle a kiss."

"So you just go around, kissing people at random?"

"If they need it. Look, I'm standing by what I said. I don't have time for a relationship. I kissed you on impulse. That's all. Let's just forget about it."

"I can't."

"Try. I did. And I'm telling the truth."

I didn't believe her, but I let her go. What was I going to say? She obviously didn't want to talk about the Incident, as I chose to call it, and all appearances showed that she was not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with me. I would have to forget it and try to carry on a friendship with her.

That would be hard. I did consider myself to be an actor, if only an amateur, but pretending that I didn't love her would be nearly impossible. I would have to try, as much as I didn't want to.

"That doesn't sound right," Stephanie said later that night. "That totally goes against everything else she's done and said."

"I respect your opinion, Stephanie, but I can't believe that."

"Brian, you're giving up too easily."

"I'm not giving up. I'm withdrawing and reconsidering my attack."

"So you are going to ask her out eventually?"

"Yes."

"When?" she asked.

"When I am old and grey and full of sleep."

"That's 'When you are old and grey and full of sleep.'* Even Max knows that line. So you're going to wait until Jimmy's dead and Dylan's in college before you do anything?"

I knew she was teasing. I hoped she was teasing.

"Basically," I said.

She wasn't teasing. She groaned, and that was not a good sign.

November 25th, Tuesday.

Jack Musorsky was an odd man. Still is, really. He was having auditions for a Shakespeare play, but wasn't telling anyone which play. The only thing on the audition notices was "Prepare your favourite scene from Shakespeare and come ready to go at 8 p.m. Wednesday and Thursday night, December 3rd and 4th, at the New Civic Theatre." We had little over a week.

I alone was privy to the name of the play: A Midsummer Night's Dream. How? I perhaps knew more about Shakespeare than many of the other professors on campus. Jack was one of the theatre faculty, an adjunct professor who is, as I said, odd. He didn't want to see fifty young women come to try out for four female roles, and many of the ladies in the Smith Union theatre program were averse to such work as preparing a scene.

The audition notice was posted outside the Performing Arts Centre offices, and that's where I found Maggie.

"Are you thinking about auditioning?" I asked.

"Yeah. Jack asked me to."

Now that was very strange-Jack never asked anyone to audition specifically. I knew that he often precast, but still waited until auditions were over to finalise his choices.

"You don't sound too excited about that."

"I don't know any Shakespeare."

"None at all?"

"I read some in high school-Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet, I think, and I saw some movies, but nothing major."

"Ah. Well, I'm planning on auditioning too. Maybe we could work on a scene together?"

"Sure," she said.

"Any preferences?"

"Nope. Pick something and let me know." She scribbled her phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to me.

"All right."

My mind began to work at an incredible pace. Jack would definitely see scenes from Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet, as well as Taming of the Shrew, so those plays were ruled out automatically. I also decided against histories and tragedies, since there weren't many female parts in those-not that there are many female parts in Shakespeare, period.

I was also cognizant of the fact that the scene I selected would be a very good way to test the waters, so to speak. I could tell her that I loved her without risking rejection, because the words would be Shakespeare's and not mine. Cowardly, you think? Put yourself in my shoes, and I'm sure you'd do the same thing.

After a while, I lit upon the perfect play: Much Ado About Nothing. Specifically, the end of act 4, scene 1.

"I have one issue with this scene," Maggie said when she arrived for our first practice. Dylan went straight for Keller's leash, with the dog ecstatically bouncing around, ready to go for a walk with his best friend.

"Oh?" I asked, slightly afraid of what was to come.

"I watched the movie, and, well, they kiss."

"Is that a problem?" I hope not. "We don't have to follow Branagh's interpretation."

"It's not that. It works. I just-I've never had a stage kiss before."

"We don't have to right away. Let's just work on lines for now." Whew. Potential disaster averted. I had forgotten that there was a kiss in that scene. It was not specified as a kiss, per se, but some sign of strong affection.

Dylan ran ahead with Keller, two peas in a pod, while Maggie and I continued at a slower pace. We ran lines as best we could in the failing light, finally giving up when the street lights flickered on.

"So tell me, do Benedick and Beatrice really hate each other and are duped into falling in love by the prince and all them, or is there really something there from the start?"

"Six of one, half dozen of the other. Beatrice says that she knows Benedick 'of old,' so they have known each other for a while. She also says that he lent her his heart, and she gave him use for it, so it's possible they were lovers at some point and broke it off for some reason."

"What do you think?"

"They were lovers and broke it off."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Money, perhaps. She might not have had much of a dowry, and soldiers don't make much. Or Benedick felt cornered and he likes his freedom. They fought, obviously, and continued to fight after that. There's still something there, I think, since it was so easy for them to fall in love."

"Must be. So why did you pick this piece? Why not one of the scenes where they're fighting?"

"I like this one." I can tell you I love you, and you won't know. I won't get hurt that way.

"Come on, you've got to have a better reason than that!"

"It shows your range, going from sadness to joy to anger in a short space of time."

"Oh. What about you?"

"I get the humour in trying to interrupt you. Anyone can trade insults, Maggie. If you want to be cast, you need to show more than that."

"It's a play, not life or death."

"You say the same thing about football. What do you get passionate about?"

"My son," she said, grinning. "He's my world."

"There's no room for anyone else?" Please, let me be part of it.

"No. Not yet."

I let the subject drop. It was too dangerous. I didn't want to press further and ruin what chance I had.

December 3rd, Wednesday.

I arrived early to auditions, as usual, and found Jack flitting around in a tizzy.

"Oh my God, thank you for coming!" he cried. "Where's Maggie?"

"On her way."

"Well, that makes two women who showed up... or will."

"Having issues with attendance?" I asked, trying to not laugh. "That's what you get when you don't tell people what play you chose."

"You are not helping, Brian!"

Jack can be rather overdramatic.

"I'm so close to just casting men, I swear!" he continued, buzzing straight by with a pot of coffee in one hand and a plain prompt book in the other. I didn't see a coffee cup, however.

"Do you plan on sharing?"

He looked down and sighed.

"Nope."

I shook my head and followed him into the theatre office, where several stacks of shiny new annotated Midsummer scripts were leaning against a wall. I picked one up, only to have it slapped out of my hand.

"Not until later! I have to cast this monster first."

From out in the hall, I heard a familiar voice; Dylan's.

"But Mom, why do I have to be here?"

"Because Gramma's out and I couldn't find a babysitter."

"Mom!"

"What?"

"Brian's in there."

I waved from behind the box office window when Maggie looked up. She grinned.

"Get your girlfriend and come on," Jack smirked.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Not yet, anyway."

Hmm.

I sat by Jack through the first part of auditions, looking back furtively at Maggie and Dylan. She was trying to keep him quiet, but it wasn't easy. He wanted to cheer on every pair that performed their scene. Quite a few of them did very well. And more women showed up, although they weren't as prepared as Jack would've liked, but he let them borrow scripts and improvise.

"And what do Brian and Maggie have ready for us?" Jack asked.

"Much Ado," I replied, "End of four, one."

Thankfully, the significance was lost on Jack. And apparently on Maggie as well, but that was something else.

"Good. You're up."

All noise and chatter stopped when Maggie and I took the stage. Max snickered, as usual, and it was Maggie's turn to glare at him.

"Ready?" Jack asked from the back of the seats.

Maggie nodded, as did I. A deep breath, and we started.

"Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?"

"Yea, and I will weep a while longer."

"I will not desire that."

"You have no reason; I do it freely."

It was like we had been running that scene forever. The words came easily, and for my part, at least, the sincerity and passion were there from the beginning.

"Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee."

"Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it!"

"Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?"

"Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul."

Maggie was an actor; there was bitterness in her voice that I knew did not belong to her, but rather to Beatrice.

"Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell."

I kissed her and we parted company. The auditorium was silent as the grave.

After a moment, we heard "Damn." Tessa, who would be stage-managing, was impressed, but that wasn't difficult.

Maggie quickly went back to her seat-it was almost time to call an end to the evening. I saw Christopher Caesar, a senior theatre student, nod slowly as I passed, his orange hair glowing against the red velvet seats. He was a shoo-in for Puck, with frenetic energy and off-the-wall sense of humour. His scene had been with Max, from Twelfth Night, between Malvolio and Feste.

"If I hadn't invested in all those Midsummer scripts, I'd change the play," Jack murmured as I took my seat behind him. "You're good. She's fantastic."

"I know."

Auditions had gone fantastically well. Maggie was walking on air, and I wasn't far behind. Dylan was the only one relatively grounded as he shuffled out to the parking lot holding his mother's hand.

We all walked out to the parking lot, side by side and silent. It was very late, and cold, and the post-audition euphoria was wearing off.

I attribute my actions to cold and fatigue.

As I said, we were walking side by side, with Dylan and myself on either side of Maggie. It would be very easy to just reach out and take her hand.

I did.

She didn't pull away. My heart rate increased as her fingers entwined with mine.

I pulled her hand up and lightly kissed the back of it.

She didn't pull away. She looked at me, smiling shyly, and looked down.

I opened the door of the Chief and Dylan climbed in. The wind toyed with my hair, blowing a strand or two across my face, which Maggie cautiously brushed away and tucked behind my ear.

Neither of us said anything. Of course, it would have been the perfect time to say something romantic, like "God put stars in your eyes so that we mere mortals may see starlight in daytime," even though it was currently night and overcast. True to form, I said something stupid.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. It makes seeing your face so much easier."

"Why would you want to see that?" The wind was starting to chill me to the bone-or was it something else?

"I think you're handsome."

Why would Maggie say something like that, something that was so obviously not true? How could anyone think I was handsome?

Dylan made his presence known by pretending to vomit, clearly insulted by this display of false sentimentality.

"I agree, Dylan," I said coolly.

Maggie glared at me.

"Good night, Brian. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Her voice made the December wind seem like a balmy summer breeze.

As she walked away, I noticed two things. One, she had very nice hips. Two, I had offended her, and that was bad.

"Man, she was so going to kiss you! What did you do?"

Max approached at a run. I hoped he would slip on a patch of ice.

"Nothing, I think. I agreed with Dylan on something."

"What?"

"Maggie said she thought I was handsome and Dylan retched."

"She thinks you're handsome? She must like you," Max said, amazed.

December 6th, Saturday.

For the past ten years I have participated in the annual Smith Union University Madrigal Dinner. A Madrigal dinner is basically a four course meal in the Renaissance style. At Smith Union, we don't chance much. We just sing more. I was sucked in soon after I arrived and haven't been able to get away. Not that I really mind; I like singing, and it's fun when we're not in tech week.

However, it was the last night of our performances, and Cheryl was relatively stress-free, which was good for the singers. The less she worried, the better we performed.

But I was a nervous wreck, all because of Max.

"Okay, it's the end of the semester. You've officially been panting after Maggie Mitchell for three and a half months. Have you asked her out yet?"

"I have not been panting after her," I grumbled, trying to pull on a pair of black tights without tearing them. "And no, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Marry me and have my children?"

"Max!"

"Brian, you're a dyed in the wool romantic, and you can't come up with anything to say to her?"

"Nothing of importance, no."

"Geez, man! You teach poetry. You teach romantic literature. You have 500 years of sappy ---- at your fingertips, and you can't say 'Maggie, nothing would make me happier than if you would accompany me to dinner some evening this week'? You're hopeless!"

"I've tried, all right! I've tried. But-I look at her, I hear her voice, and everything freezes. I lack your confidence." God, that costume just got heavier and warmer... I was sure I had lost a few pounds from sweat alone.

"Obviously! That's why she's coming tonight-with her ex! If you don't ask her soon, he'll charm her panties off and you'll be screwed. So help me God, if you don't ask her out tonight, I will for you! Very juvenile, I know, but I don't want to see her hurt again. That guy's scum."

I didn't have time to reply. Max was called away to the makeup room and I had to finish grooming. One look in the mirror showed I needed a trim. A whole haircut, maybe. It was past my shoulders, long enough to pull back in a ponytail. Maybe Maggie didn't like long hair on men...

Then it was time. We paired off and entered the hall. I couldn't help myself. I scanned the crowd to see if she really was there, and with Jimmy Walker.

Oh Dear God. She was at one of the front tables, sitting between Dylan and Jimmy. Dylan wasn't paying attention, at least not until Maggie elbowed him and pointed. I could see him break up into giggles. How was wearing this costume different from my Renaissance Festival garb?

You were actually wearing trousers with that outfit ... not tights.

It was hard to keep my eyes away from Maggie's table. I wanted to see how she liked it. I also wanted to see just how things were between her and Jimmy Walker. Unfortunately, I couldn't see much, since I had to concentrate on the show.

The jesters appeared not too long after we entered, Max and his merry band of student fools. Dinner would follow soon, a chicken and rice dish that I sincerely doubt was traditional Renaissance fare, but I know English cooking and this was much better.

There are signs posted at the entrance to the hall and even small cards at the tables requesting that all cellular phones and pagers be turned off or set to vibrate before the performance starts. There is even an announcement made two minutes before the show. There is no excuse why this should not be done, but that night it happened. Someone's cell phone started going off, Beethoven's Fifth made ridiculous by the tinny ring tone.

All action stopped.

I have to hand it to Max. Within seconds of answering, the offending churl was surrounded by four men in motley; the jesters were acting as security and were ready to escort the person out of the hall. He was sitting at Maggie's table; I could see her hiding her face in her hands, wishing to melt into the background. The jesters were clustered around the man to her right, one Jimmy Walker.

He turned off the phone, ignoring the four people glaring at him from above, leaned over and whispered something to Maggie. He left, escorted by Max's crew, who were gesturing wildly and pulling the most obscene faces. He didn't come back.

As they were heading back to the stage, the music resumed. The fools had been in the middle of their routine and left one very bewildered freshman sitting in the middle of the stage. Three of them continued their trick while Max took his time returning to the stage.

Max looked at me and raised an eyebrow as he passed Maggie's table. I knew exactly what he meant. Look at what he did. He left her here, alone, with the kid. What did I tell you?

I nodded and Max grinned. Maggie would not be left alone for the rest of the night. In fact, Max doubled back, pulled out her chair and sat on her lap, giving her a huge kiss on the cheek. Maggie shook her head, trying hard not to smile while Dylan laughed.

Max hopped up, tousled Dylan's hair and returned to the stage to consort with his fellow fools. A few minutes later, Christopher Caesar and Dave Peltier, one of the school's soccer players, were heading over to Maggie's table, front and centre. I knew this bit; it was a staple of our production. Two fools would pull their intended victim up to the stage; one would kneel and mime professing his undying love. The other would interrupt with his own mimed confession, and naturally, a comic fight would ensue, with the girl watching and being goaded by the other two into miming her own reactions.

Only this time, things went differently. While Caesar was making his impassioned, silent plea and Dave looked on in disgust, Dylan stood and made his way up to the stage. A few of the other people at the table tried to stop him, but it didn't work and soon he was on the stage. Again, all action stopped and attention focused on the boy.

Totally calm and unnerved, Dylan bowed to me and Cheryl, king and queen, silently asking permission to join the play. I nodded, as did a somewhat confused Cheryl.

"Who's that?" she whispered.

"Her son," I replied. Cheryl's eyebrows rose and I suppressed a laugh.

Dylan approached Caesar, who had resumed his act, and tapped him on the shoulder. Caesar looked at him, amused, as Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head "No."

Caesar, being a theatre student, adapted quickly, and brushed Dylan aside to once again resume his suit. Maggie shot me a look that was unmistakable; I'm sure she had figured out what was going on. I raised a hand slightly to reassure her that nothing would happen to Dylan.

Twitters of laughter swept through the audience. They wondered if this was part of the act, if Maggie and Dylan were plants. They would have to wait and see.

Things progressed as they were wont, and soon Dave and Caesar were ready for their fight. While Dave was wooing Maggie, Caesar and Max took her son aside and undoubtedly explained a few fundamentals of stage combat.

Then it was time. Caesar shoved Dave out of the way and fell to his knees in front of Maggie, grinning. It naturally degenerated into an all-out brawl, with Dylan looking on, bored. Finally his cue came.

Dave came charging from one side of the stage, where Caesar had thrown him, and Dylan tripped him up, sending him sprawling in a wonderfully fake manner to the floor. He kicked the older student in the stomach and approached Caesar, who was once again on his knees in front of Maggie. Dylan tapped his shoulder, and when Caesar turned to look, hit him across the face and Caesar fell.

Dylan calmly and smugly held out a hand to his mother, who accepted it graciously, and led her back to the table. The audience roared with laughter and cheers; Dylan Mitchell had stolen the show.

"That was fantastic!" Caesar said, bouncing around the room, already changed from his motley attire, as we filed into the costume room to change. "Max, we gotta do that again next year!"

"You won't be here next year, dumb---," Max retorted.

"Still, you gotta do it! That kid's a killer! We have never gotten more applause."

"Was that planned?" Cheryl asked severely, coming into the room. A few of the newer members clutched at half-discarded clothing.

"Nope," Max replied, grinning widely. "It is for next year, though."

"Maggie might not want that," I said, glad to be rid of that heavy costume. "He's just a kid, remember?"

"We don't have to use Dylan, we can get a kid from the drama program."

"We'll see," Cheryl said dubiously. She was not happy that her singers had been upstaged by a seven-year-old.

"Man, tonight will live in infamy!" Max crowed, once Cheryl left. "I wish they'd taped that. Stephanie won't believe this!"

"I'm sure she will."

We changed as quickly as we could-I wish I could have showered-and went out to help with strike. Harvey, the scene shop foreman and technical theatre guru, and his crew already had the lights down and ready for transport back to the theatre. The caterers were working at clearing tables and the guys were stuffing centrepieces into boxes at a reckless pace.

I was surprised to see Maggie still there, trying to make a call on her cell phone. Dylan was slumped on the table, having fallen asleep once the jesters had left.

"I'm sorry about Jimmy," she said guiltily as I approached. "I thought he had turned it off."

"Don't worry about it. We weren't taping tonight."

"I'm sorry about Dylan, too. I saw the look on Cheryl's face. Was she really mad?"

"Not as much as you would think. Max is all ready planning on asking if Dylan can join the troupe."

"I think he'd like that," she grinned.

"Do you need a ride?" I asked suddenly. "I mean, you hadn't left yet, and he's asleep."

"Yes, unfortunately. Jimmy insisted on driving." She added under her breath, "Bastard."

"I-I'll take you." Good, start stammering. Wonderful.

"Could you?" she asked, modifying it with, "I mean, if it's not too much trouble. We don't live anywhere near you."

You could. Move in with me. We'll be a family.

"No trouble at all. Anyway, it's late. He needs to get to bed."

"Sure, Daddy," she teased. She was referring to me as Dylan's father, I hoped. Anyway, I liked how it sounded.

I retrieved my coat, excused myself from strike and endured a knowing smirk from Max. Upon returning to Maggie's table, I handed her my car keys and picked Dylan up. She wouldn't have been able to handle carrying him, and waking him up could be disastrous.

We slowly approached my truck; it was icy and cold, and Maggie took my arm as we carefully picked our way across the parking lot. She unlocked the doors and started the engine while I gently strapped Dylan into the back seat, then helped her into the front. Dear God, thank You for this.

There was virtually no conversation on the way to her apartment. We were all tired, even though I was still buzzing from the show and nervous about what was to come. I would ask her tonight. I would.

I carried Dylan up to her apartment and set him in his bed. Maggie worked off his coat and shoes, tucking him in without bothering to change him out of his clothes.

"Thank you," she said, closing the door behind her. We were in the hall, just outside Dylan's bedroom. "For everything. For tonight. I was so embarrassed."

She bit her lip, and I saw tears glistening in her eyes. She brushed them away.

"It was nothing," I said awkwardly. "It was Max's idea, anyway. I-Maggie-"

"Yes?" Was there hope in her voice?

"I-I'm not always good with words," I said, defeated. My turn for embarrassment.

"You don't have to be," she whispered, a little confused.

A moment of painfully awkward silence. She turned to go further into the apartment. I should have left right away... Instead, I swallowed and tried again.

"Maggie?"

"Yes?"

"Wouldyouliketogotodinnerwithmenextweek?" I blurted.

"Yes," she said almost immediately. She nodded, too. "Yes, I would. Very much."

A weight lifted from my chest.

"I'll make arrangements and call you, then?" I asked. She smiled.

"All right. I look forward to it."

"I should be going." Yes, I should be going, before I made a fool of myself. "Goodnight."

Maggie reached up and kissed my cheek, a sweet gesture, and blushed. "Goodnight, Brian."

Almost as soon as I stepped out of her apartment, my cell phone rang.

"Well?" Max was impatient. I could hear Stephanie scolding in the background.

"Sometime next week."

I chuckled to myself as I heard them both cheer.

*W.B. Yeats, When You Are Old And Grey

Section 5

Posted on Thursday, 6 May 2004

December 14th, Monday.

Monday. I would be having dinner with Maggie on Thursday. It was the soonest I could make the arrangements I wanted. I was not handling the anxiety well; my fingernails were in tatters.

I had also finally been able to train Keller to stay at home and not ---- on the sheets when he wanted attention. Of course that didn't mean that he actually stayed home; I had gotten so used to taking him with me to school that I couldn't think about leaving him. He proved a nice distraction from real work.

Another distraction arrived that night, after I was finished with most of the work. She arrived with enough luggage to last a month.

"I've been trying to call you for hours!" Regan said, barging into my house. "I finally had to call the Neanderthal to come get me. You wouldn't believe how many perverts were staring at me in the airport."

"It wouldn't be because you look like a Gypsy Broad?" Max shouted amid a flurry of barks from Keller. He dropped the two suitcases, garment and overnight bags in the middle of the hall.

Regan was wearing her usual sort of costume; everything she wore was carefully chosen and was indeed a costume. Today was combat boots, striped stockings, a denim skirt with frayed hem, black patent leather corset and bustier over a white men's dress shirt and tie. Her dark hair was pulled up into a half a dozen frizzy ponytails and her makeup... was a bizarre cross between gothic, Egyptian, and Hindu styles.

"I didn't know you were coming!" I said. "A little warning would have been sufficient."

"And that would have been too easy." She threw her arms around me and squeezed.

"As much as I'd like to stay and be a part of this little reunion, Steph's holding dinner for me. I'll catch ya'll later."

I said goodbye, Regan ignored him, and Max left.

"Tell you the truth, I had hoped to walk in on something," Regan said, perching herself on the arm of a sofa. Keller jumped up next to her. "There's more than one way to meet a Maggie. Oh, so this is Keller! He's cute!"

"Uh-huh. You're all ready starting in on that?" I asked. "You're not even here five minutes, and harassing me. I thought that was my job."

"No, your job is to make sure Mum gets a grandchild."

"She's got half a dozen already."

"Not from you. We all know you're Mum's favourite."

"That's not true."

"Come on! You should hear her talk. 'My son, the doctor.' 'Brian's coaching children's football.' 'Brian, Brian, Brian.' It makes life difficult for Moira, Liam and me."

She was teasing. Moira was a well-known television reporter in Dublin; Liam was an assistant coach for the pro football team; and Regan was the black sheep, a tattoo artist in London with a degree in graphic arts.

"Anyway, I'm under orders from Mum to make sure this Maggie chick passes inspection. Gotta make sure she's good enough for dear Brian. So, when do I meet her?"

"No comment. But actually," I said, looking at my watch, "They should be coming by soon. Dylan's helping me train this mongrel."

And no sooner said, than Keller's ears pricked up and he shot for the door. Enter Maggie and Dylan. Maggie froze as soon as she saw Regan, not quite sure what to think.

"Who're you?" Dylan asked defensively, more overt in his suspicions than his mother.

"I'm Regan," my sister shot back, somewhat amused by the boy. "Brian's sister."

"Uh, yes. Regan, this is Maggie and her son Dylan. Regan just appeared a few minutes ago."

Maggie visibly relaxed, as did Dylan.

"It's my birthday this week," he volunteered. "I'll be seven. How old are you?"

"Well, I'm ten years younger than Brian, if you'll believe it, so you tell me."

"I don't know how old Brian is. Are you twenty?"

"Oh, I like you," Regan said, laughing. "I'm a bit older than that. I'm twenty nine. We're going to have to do something fun for your birthday."

"Can I get a tattoo?"

"NO!" Maggie cried. Regan was beside herself with laughter.

"But you've got one, mom!"

"I got it when I was eighteen, not seven. When you're eighteen you can get one too, but not before."

"Tell you what, pup," Regan said, crouching down, "When you're eighteen I'll give you a tattoo. I can even design it for you. But we'll wait until you're eighteen. I hear you're helping my big brother train Keller."

"Yup. He lets me hold the leash and give him treats. Want me to show you the tricks we taught him?"

"Sure!"

Dylan put Keller through his paces while I went into the kitchen for drinks. Maggie followed.

"Your sister, huh?"

"Yes. Didn't I tell you she was coming to visit?"

"Probably."

"She just showed up. Didn't even call," I said, rummaging around in the fridge for beer and soda.

"She seems nice."

"She's a pistol," I said, resurfacing with two bottles of Guinness and two Cokes. Maggie took a soda while I opened the Guinness. "Not as good as draught, but not bad."

"This is the sister who gave you your tattoo?"

"Yes."

"For a second there, I thought-" She broke off and stared at the floor.

"Hardly," I said softly.

"So you're a student, Maggie?" Regan asked, entering the kitchen, followed by Dylan, followed by Keller. "What are you taking next semester?"

"I'm actually withdrawing for now."

This was news to me.

"Hey, Dylan, how about you go to the bathroom before you and Brian take Keller out." Maggie gave an order to her son, which he followed without complaint.

"But why?" Regan cried.

"I've got a few things that really need my attention, and schoolwork isn't one of them."

"You're breaking Brian's heart now," Regan pouted. "How else is he going to see you every day?"

"I think we'll work something out," said Maggie, grinning. "We've got a date Thursday night."

"Oh! Okay! Good, good. See, I thought I'd have to come and talk you into shagging my brother senseless (he really needs it, don't you think?), but I see you're already doing that."

I choked. In many ways, Regan was worse than Max. Maggie laughed.

"We're not quite there yet," she said with a slight blush. "It's only a first date."

"Oh, trust me," Regan answered, with a knowing glint in her eyes. "I have a good feeling about you, and I know my brother. He's not going to give you up without a fight."

"Regan-" I wanted to change the subject, but couldn't. She was too fast.

"What? You're not going to let her go after one date, are you? After you worked so hard to get there? Maggie, he's been pining for you for months."

"That's not true!" I yelped, cornered. Of course it was.

"Brian, you got a dog because she wanted one."

"You can't prove that," I sulked.

"I don't need to! Why else would you suddenly get a dog? I mean, one day you're complaining because a dog would tear up the finish on your precious hardwood floors, then the next thing I know, you met Maggie and got that adorable puppy. And your floors look fine to me."

"That was kinda sudden, Brian," Maggie said with an impish grin.

"Can't a man get a dog because he's lonely?" I asked desperately. I received skeptical looks from both of them. It was a lost cause. I gathered the last few remnants of my dignity and said calmly, "Dylan and I are taking my dog out for a walk. We'll be back in half an hour."

"Going to lick your wounds?" Regan asked with a dangerous, teasing tone to her voice. "I'm sure Maggie would love to massage your ego for you!"

I got out of the house as fast as possible, their laughter ringing in my ears. It was going to be a long, long-week?

December 15th, Monday.

"I love your sister!" Maggie enthused the next day. "She is a riot!"

"I'm glad you get along. She said the same thing about you." Then, a dangerous question. "What did you two talk about last night?"

"You."

"Don't believe a thing she says about me. It's exaggerated."

"You're probably right. Nobody could be as good as she makes you out to be."

"Well-"

She laughed.

"Don't even start! I've worked for lawyers long enough to know what to believe and what to ignore."

"I'm sure of it. Oh, Regan somehow got tickets to the Lord of the Rings Trilogy Tuesday thing tomorrow. She wants to know if you want to come, and Dylan. For his birthday."

"Really? Ooh, I don't know. He's a bit young for that, don't you think? And that's really late."

"It's just a thought."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll think about it and let you know when I drop Dylan off later."

"Come again?"

"Didn't Regan tell you?" Maggie asked, confused. "We're going shopping tonight. She said you'd watch Dylan."

"It would have been nice to know that last night."

"I'm sorry. I'll make other arrangements-"

"Don't worry about it. I don't have any plans." Sleep sounded good. Or catching up on reading.

"Thank you. Have I told you lately that you're a sweetheart?"

"Not since October." October 15th, 9:17 a.m., to be exact.

"Well then, you're good until April. People should only be told they're sweethearts once every six months."

"Bull----," I grinned.

"Ah, well, you got me. How long is Regan staying?"

Keller, by now used to having Maggie appear randomly in my office and home, jumped up into her lap. Again, he was a traitor.

"She hasn't really said," I grimaced.

"How much luggage did she bring?" I listed off everything.

"Ah. Maybe a week, then?"

"Only?" I choked.

"Yeah. My sister is the only female I know who can pack light."

"This would be Sarah?" Maggie nodded. I had met Sarah a few times; first at the Renaissance Festival, later at football matches and when she picked up Dylan from practices. "She would. So you think she'll be staying a week?"

"That depends on what we buy tonight," she said with an impish grin.

The first bag I saw Regan bring into my house was from Frederick's of Hollywood. It was rather large and very full.

"We nearly bought out the store," Regan crowed.

"We?"

She only laughed and hauled several other bags upstairs. Maggie was just a few steps behind, coming into the house without any evidence of having been shopping. My imagination was left to its own devices.

"I've come to collect my son," she said, smiling. At the sound of her voice, Keller came running. Maggie laughed. "You're not my son, cutie."

"Mom, Brian and I made cookies for school tomorrow," Dylan said, reluctantly pulling his boots on.

"I thought I smelled something good."

"It was his mom's recipe. They're really good! I think Miss Jean Louise'll like them."

"You used Mum's special recipe?" Regan asked, bounding down the stairs. "So, are you up for twelve arse-numbing hours of Viggo and Elijah tomorrow night?"

"Whatcha talking about?" Dylan asked, eyes going wide. Maggie pursed her lips; I could tell she hadn't said anything about going to see Return of the King Tuesday night. She was not happy.

"I got tickets to Trilogy Tuesday," Regan said, biting her bottom lip. She realised that she was in trouble. "For your birthday."

"Oh, mom, can we go? Please? I promise, I'll be good. No candy or anything!"

"It's a school night," she said. I heard a note of uncertainty in her voice, as did Dylan.

"It's only a half day Wednesday. Everyone'll be talking about it. I could be the first one to see it!"

"And tickets are hard to come by," I found myself saying. Dylan looked up at me, very appreciative that I was taking his side. "How did you get them?" I asked Regan.

"That's for me to know," she said wickedly. "Don't worry, I got 'em honestly."

"Mom, you've wanted to see this forever," Dylan wheedled. He and I pulled pathetic faces and chimed, "Please!"

"Fine!" Maggie wailed. "You're above this," she said, poking me.

[this comment deleted for graphic content]

"You're a dirty old man," Regan whispered, passing me as she went into the living room. "I know exactly what you're thinking."

"We're going," Maggie said. "Catch ya tomorrow."

"Oh, wait. Cookies." Regan reappeared with the box of cookies. She handed them to me, and I gave them to Maggie.

"Aren't you domestic," she said, grinning. They said their goodbyes and left.

Regan gave me a look.

"Fine, I'll admit it. I'm a dirty old man, and I have a date with a beautiful young woman in three days."

"How long?" I checked my watch.

"Three days, four hours and thirty one minutes. And...15 seconds."

"Right. I'll just make sure you two sit together tomorrow night. Give you the perfect opportunity to snog."

"I'll do nothing of the sort."

"I know you won't. You're a frustratingly decent man," she said, walking back into living room. I followed.

"And yet I'm dirty."

"No, you're just alive, thank God. We were all afraid you'd gone round the bend for a while. Even the Neanderthal."

Regan flopped down onto the sofa, putting her hands behind her head and looking up at me.

"I know."

"So you're sure of Maggie, then? She's The One?"

For once, Regan was being deadly serious. I shoved my hands into my pockets, which elicited a raised eyebrow from her, so I took them out again, choosing instead to fiddle with my wristwatch.

"No, not yet. Fairly certain, actually, but not totally."

"Good! I know how you get. You rushed in last time, and you know where that got you. I like her. She's not- Well, she's adorable, and she genuinely cares for you."

"You've seen this in two days?"

"I saw it in two minutes. I'm telling you, if you're going to fall in love with anyone, let it be Maggie."

"Are you done yet?"

"Um ... yes."

"I'm glad you thought about it," I said, sinking into an armchair. "I have enough problems without people judging me."

"We do it because we care. You're still sitting next to each other tomorrow. She hates spiders."

"What does that have to do with Return of the King?"

Regan looked at me like I had grown a second head.

"Shelob. She didn't make it into Two Towers, remember? That's going to be one nasty bug. Maggie's terrified of even little spiders. You're going to give up the chance to have her turn to you for comfort when she's scared ----less?"

"I never said that."

December 16th, Tuesday

"You'll get extra points if you dress up like Aragorn," Regan said from the bathroom, trying to straighten her hair.

"For what?" I asked.

It was still early afternoon; Maggie would be picking Dylan up from school and coming by my house. We would then go out for dinner and shove through the throngs of people outside the movie theatre. Regan insisted that we wouldn't have to stand in line, and I had no choice but to trust her.

"Brownie points. Anyway, you'll be the only one of us not dressed up. And you've got the costume anyway, or something that looks like it. If you had chain mail you could go as Faramir."

Regan stepped out of the bathroom, tying knots in her hair. She was wearing a long purple dress and a golden circlet.

"Who are you going as?" I asked reluctantly. I had a pretty good idea...

"Elrond. Duh!"

"Elrond's male."

"So? It's not like I have boobs to begin with. And he wore a dress."

"That's not the point. Where did you get the circlet?"

"One of Davy's friends is a metal smith. He made it special for me. Anyway, Maggie's going as Eowyn. And Dylan's going to be a Cute Hobbit Child. Apparently Maggie put his hair in sponge curlers last night."

"Poor child."

"He asked her to do it. They did this last year for Halloween. Come on. Please?"

Regan won. She attacked my beard with a trimmer, reducing it to quarter inch stubble. I couldn't put up much of a fight, since she's my little sister and much smaller than me. I was not pleased.

"You might as well shave the rest of it off later," she said, paying no heed to my huffing and puffing. "I miss your chin."

"You haven't seen my chin in seven years."

"Nobody's seen your chin in seven years. Besides, Maggie might not like beards."

I muttered something along the lines of "shut up, you stupid cow" but I don't think she heard.

"Stop sulking. It's only hair. It'll grow back."

Maggie appeared, a vision in her simple brown costume, her hair down and flowing around her shoulders. Regan lifted my chin from where it had evidently dropped. Maggie approached and investigated my sister's shaving job, turning my head from side to side.

"Stubble update: Scruffy and sexy. But I liked the beard."

"It's her fault!" I cried, pointing to Regan, who rolled her eyes.

"Are you ready?" Dylan asked impatiently.

"You have a pillow?" Regan shot back. "Remember, three long movies all in a row. You're arse'll fall asleep."

"What's an arse?" Regan decided to field that one.

"Bum. Rear. Tush. Posterior. Butt. The back of your front."

"You can stop, Regan," I said. "I think he gets the point. Let's go."

An hour and a half into The Fellowship of the Ring, Dylan had to go to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, mom," he whispered as she prepared to go with him. Thankfully we were sitting by the aisle and they didn't have too many people to pass.

"I thought you went before we came in!" she muttered.

"I did! I inherited your tiny bladder."

That was something I didn't need to know about Maggie, but it still explained a lot. The people behind us hissed as Maggie stood, and I realised that I was sitting on the side of them closest to the aisle.

"I'll take him," I said. A split second later I was lifting Dylan over Maggie's head and we were out in the lobby.

"You wait out here," Dylan ordered.

"No problem. Give us a shout if you have any trouble."

I waited outside the bathroom like a medieval bodyguard. I didn't mind. Once again, I got to pretend that I was the boy's father, and he was showing some independence. Would lead to more free time for his mother and me...

That pleasant thought was interrupted quickly. The manager of the theatre brought me out of that reverie with a few simple words.

"You're here with Maggie Mitchell, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes."

"You're a lucky man. She's a great girl."

I studied the other man. On the shorter side of tall, stocky, with average features and middling brown hair and eyes. Not horribly good looking, as was the case with Jimmy Walker, but rather nice and amiable. The name tag read "Bob."

"Yes. Beg your pardon, but how do you know Maggie?" I asked, trying not to sound too possessive.

"Oh, sorry. We were in school together, graduated the same year. '97. We dated a little our senior year. Bob Marker."

"Brian Campbell." We shook hands in greeting and introduction.

"Am I holding you up?" he asked suddenly, nodding toward the bathroom.

"Oh, no. Dylan's in there. Uh, I hope you don't mind me asking, but-"

"Were Maggie and I serious? Nope. You have nothing to fear from me."

"It's not that-"

"Sure it is. Heck, I'd be suspicious if some random guy came up to me and said 'Hey, I dated your girlfriend once upon a time.' No shame in that."

"Right." It would be a good time to ask a few questions... "So, you dated Maggie?"

"It wasn't really a dating relationship. We were just friends. I managed the track team and watched Dylan during practices and meets. We went to senior prom together. I'm glad she found someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone cool. I mean, you dressed up for this Lord of the Rings thing. Jimmy would never have done this."

"You knew Jimmy?"

"Who didn't know Jimmy? Student body president; football, basketball, track star; homecoming king; you name it, he was it. A royal jerk. Dumped Maggie the second he found out she was pregnant-and with his kid, too! Started spreading a rumour that she was a major slut. Nobody who knew her-er, knows her-bought it. She lived for him. Didn't look at another man for the three years they were together."

"Oh." New information. Always helpful. "Ah, she doesn't talk much about what she did while in school. I was just wondering-"

"She was always into theatre. She was voted most likely to star on Broadway, actually, even after Dylan was born. I don't think there was a show she wasn't in, actually."

"Interesting. Thanks."

I was saved from trying to make further conversation by Dylan emerging from the washroom. Bob seemed a nice enough man, but I did want to see the movie, and it was awkward.

"Hey, little man!" Bob said, extending his hand. Dylan slapped it. "How's it going?"

"Great! Did you meet Brian, Uncle Bob? He's mom's boyfriend."

"Ah-not really. Not yet, anyway." From the mouths of babes! Bob laughed.

"Is he an okay guy? Is he worthy?" Bob asked. Dylan gave him an incredulous look.

"Would I let him go out with my mom if he wasn't?"

"Right. I think your mum'll be thinking something's happened if we don't get back in there soon." I didn't want to give a bad impression, but Bob was making me a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah, you don't want to miss too much of the movie! Find me later and I'll hook you up with some munchies." Bob excused himself and stepped away.

"Come on, let's go!" Dylan said, pulling me back toward the theatre with damp hands.

"I hope you washed your hands," I muttered.

"Duh!"

December 17th. Wednesday

I was minding my own business Wednesday afternoon, having finally found time to read a book that was not required by my curriculum. Regan, unable to occupy herself, decided to bother me.

"So. Tomorrow night. Big date. You psyched?" She plopped down on the sofa beside me, cross-legged and too chipper.

"Go away, Regan."

"Come on! This is what you've been waiting for since you met her! You can't tell me you aren't excited."

"I've mastered the Zen art of relaxation. Bugger off," I grumbled.

"Where are you taking her?"

"It's a surprise."

"So tell me!"

"No. I can't be sure you won't tell Maggie, and I want to keep it a surprise. Now, leave me alone!"

Regan pouted.

"Not going to work, Reggie. I'm impervious to such pathetic faces."

Keller clicked his way into the room; I made a note to clip his nails soon. He jumped up into Regan's lap and made a very similar face.

"Please! It must be very good if you're so secretive about it. Very expensive?"

I didn't answer and ignored the dog... Or tried to and failed. I rubbed his ears. Can't resist him! Insufferable dog!

"Are you being a pain on purpose?" she wheedled. I continued to ignore her. "Brian! You need a manicure."

That was completely unexpected.

"What?"

"You need a manicure! Just look at your nails. Disgusting!" She picked up one of my hands, tossing the book aside. "You're almost forty years old and you still bite your nails?"

"Only when under inordinate amounts of stress."

"They weren't this bad over the summer. I'm calling a salon and making an appointment for you. Damn, Brian! Did you actually think Maggie wouldn't notice how nasty and raggy your nails are? I wouldn't want Davy to touch me if his nails were like this!"

I pulled my hand away.

"Regan, it's not like I'm actually going to be touching her," I said. She stared at me.

"I don't believe you just said that. I don't think I need to remind you that Maggie is your (latest) dream girl. But you're not taking her to a movie, since that would be a great time to paw at your date, and you passed that option up last night; but then again, Maggie was trying hard enough to get you to. And you're the decent, romantic type, so I'm guessing dinner at a fancy restaurant. They have dress codes, you know. Your suit pressed?"

"If you would stop talking for a minute-yes. A nice restaurant, and my outfit is ready. I think."

"What if it needs to be washed? It's a little late to be sending things out to the cleaners."

"Regan, you're beginning to get annoying." Beginning? That was certainly an understatement.

"I'm still making a manicure appointment for you."

"What's the Gypsy Broad trying to force you into doing?" Max asked, appearing in my living room with Stephanie right behind.

"I have to start locking my doors," I grumbled. "First it's you, then Max barging in on me. What if I had been doing something important?"

All three were silent for a moment, and I realised what I had opened myself up to.

"I'm afraid to ask," Stephanie said.

"You know, refinishing floors or something. Honestly, I wish you would all just pull your minds out of the gutter. It must be crowded."

"He's always talking about his floors," Max mused, ignoring me. "I wonder if it's code for something. Polishing floors, refinishing, waxing. Wax on, wax off. He must go through a lot of wax."

"Max!" It was no use. Trying something different. "I could have been showering."

"You know, 90% of guys-"

"Max! Stop. I don't need to hear that one again."

I spoke quickly to prevent Regan's outburst.

"Thank you, Stephanie. To what do I owe this honour?"

"We have good news for you, and wanted to tell you in person."

"Jack's posted a cast list," Max blurted while Stephanie made herself comfortable in my favourite chair. Keller went to investigate. Stephanie muttered something to herself, which escaped me completely.

"That's not what I meant," she said more audibly. Regan, being uncharacteristically generous, retrieved a bottle of water for her.

"Anyway, I get to make out with Maggie." Stephanie choked on her water and I started coughing.

Regan snorted loudly at my reaction. It took me a moment to realise that he was talking about A Midsummer Night's Dream, and not real life. I'd have to harm him if it was for real, not only for taking Maggie away from me, but for the more grievous crime of cheating on Stephanie.

"If I remember correctly, there are several sets of lovers in that play. Who'd you get?"

"Maggie and I are Hippolyta and Theseus, respectively, and pulling double duty as Titania and Oberon."

"Ah, so Jack decided to double cast those roles. Great. Was I cast?"

"Naturally. You got Bottom. I think Caesar's mad at you; he really wanted that part."

"I thought he wanted Puck."

"Second choice. He is Puck, though."

"And you're King of the Fairies!" Regan shrieked with laughter. Max overlooked her comment and chose not to respond, thank goodness.

"Anyway, you can make it a family act, too. Dylan's going to be the little Indian changeling."

"We're going to have a baby," Stephanie said abruptly. Silence for a moment again.

"Congratulations!" I said while Regan cooed. Even Keller licked Stephanie's face in a canine form of 'Good for you!'

"Hoping for a boy this time," Max said, rubbing his wife's shoulders.

"That's the last thing we need, another Neanderthal." He shot Regan a dirty look.

"I sincerely hope you stay single. More gypsy broads would only make the world worse."

"Hate to disappoint you, but I'm engaged. Date's in August and you are certainly not invited."

"Like I'd want to go."

"Like you'd spend the money on the plane ticket."

Stephanie and I quietly got up and walked out of the room, leaving Regan and Max alone to duke it out.

"Congratulations," I said again, once we were safely in my office.

"Thank you. So, to beat a dead horse, I'm sure, tomorrow night with Maggie. Are you nervous?"

"Horribly."

"I can tell. Your nails look like ----. You'll be fine. I'm sure you have the whole evening planned?"

"For the most part. I've got reservations at-" I saw her lean forward eagerly. "A nice restaurant. You're in on it too! Why can't I have a surprise for her?"

"Because we don't want to wait until Friday for details. If you tell us where you're taking her, we can predict what will happen. Tell us what you order, and we can almost predict where you'll end up after the date."

"That is such bull ----."

"No, it's not. Seriously. The better the restaurant, the better chance of a good make-out session, and the more expensive the food, especially dessert, the better your chances at getting lucky. Max and I have tested that theory."

"I'm not sure I want to know," I said. She laughed.

"Just trust me. I'm a professional."

"You're a professional something, all right. When can we expect the latest little Parker and will this one be named after me?"

"The last little Parker," she corrected. "Sometime in July, if the doctors are to be believed, and naming is something we haven't discussed yet. But I'll put your name up for consideration. Brian if a girl, Brianna if a boy?"

"You might want to try reversing those, but sure."

"When can we expect little Campbells?" she asked with a devilish glint in her eyes.

"I swear, I'm going to stop talking to you completely. Haven't even had a date yet and you're all ready asking after children. It's not like we're getting married tomorrow. Are we not even getting a dating period? She could be an axe-wielding psycho killer for all I know, waiting to get me comfortable and make out a will in her name, then kill me while I sleep."

"Yes, she is," Stephanie said, rolling her eyes. "Then she'll drink your blood and make a ritual sacrifice of your eyeballs and genitalia to the god of single mothers."

"And you want me to have children with this woman?" I yelped. I knew she was teasing and I played along.

"I don't know why you're nervous about having dinner with Maggie. It's not like you've ever really been alone with her before. I know about That Kiss, but that doesn't really count, because she wasn't totally stable then. I don't really know what stable is for her, actually, but still. She had just realised that you're in love with her, and her ex boyfriend was there and everything, but look at everything that happened after that!"

"You're not helping, Stephanie."

"She's willingly going out with you tomorrow night. I don't think she'll care if you take her to McDonald's or Spago. She wants to spend time with you. Maybe for a second date you could take her on a picnic! There's so much you could do with that!"

"In the middle of winter?"

"Living room floor. Build a fire, lay out a blanket. A little wine, bread, cheese, fruit. She'll be eating out of your hands."

"That's a very good idea," I said, filing it away. I noticed that noise had stopped coming from the living room. "Do you think they may have killed each other?"

"One can only hope," she grumbled.

Section 6

Posted on Thursday, 13 May 2004

December 18th, Thursday

Regan made good on her threat to take me for a manicure Thursday afternoon. She would not leave the poor manicurist alone until she coated my newly shaped and reasonably mended fingernails with that stuff that was supposed to stop nail biting.

It tastes terrible. And it didn't work.

"Dear God, Brian! Would you stop worrying?"

"I don't think that's possible," I said.

"I swear, I'm just going to lock you two in the basement until you're married or something. I figure it'll take about a day, since all Maggie's really waiting for is you to ask her."

"We've only known each other for three months. I doubt she's thinking about marriage."

"You never know..." she trailed off. "Your tie's crooked. And you need a haircut. You're beginning to look like Wilbur."

"He was a very good dog. I don't mind that comparison."

"At least a trim, then. Before you start to look mangy."

"Thank you, Kyan Douglas."

"You watch Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?"

"Maggie does."

"Ah. Maybe she's collecting ideas to use on you."

I threw a pillow at her. She ducked.

I was early picking Maggie up. I said I would be there at 8:30, and I showed up at her apartment at 8. Naturally she wasn't ready, and I didn't make a fuss. It was very awkward, however, since Tessa Kowalski was the chosen sitter and she was still a student of mine. A university student babysitting the child of a fellow student who was going out with a professor... I could see the headlines in the school newspaper.

Tessa was smirking at me while I paced around the living room, debating on the prudence of taking my coat off. I was warm and only getting warmer, but as whatever law would have it, as soon as I took it off Maggie would appear and I'd have to put it back on. So I kept it on, and shoved my hands as far into the pockets as the seams would allow, trying to keep my fingernails from my mouth.

When Maggie stepped out of her bedroom, my breath caught in my throat. She was beautiful. Her wavy hair was partially pinned back, leaving just a few soft curls to caress her shoulders. I wanted to touch it, to touch her, to make sure she wasn't some kind of angel or apparition, ready to dissolve in a moment.

I decided that I spent too much time with Max. He would have pointed out her shapely legs; the way the cloth of the dress moved around her; how the cut left just enough to the imagination. Rest assured, Maggie wasn't dressed like some tart (or the ho she had been at Halloween) that was just how Max thought, and was the reason he and his wife had three children and another on the way.

"All this for me?" I asked in total disbelief. Maggie grinned.

"You have the numbers, Tessa," she said, turning to her. "I'll keep my cell phone on."

"Maggie," Tessa groaned. "This is your first big-girl date in a long time. Dylan and I will be fine. Go have fun, and if anything happens, I'll call the restaurant."

"But-"

"Maggie! Go."

"Everything will be all right, Maggie," I added, touching her elbow lightly. She turned and looked at me oddly. It must be the first time she had left Dylan alone for a date, a personal reason. "I'm sure Tessa is perfectly capable of taking care of him."

"All right, all right." Maggie knelt down to talk to her son. "Be good for Tessa, go to bed when she says to and all that stuff. I'll be back later."

"'Kay, mom."

"I love you."

"Mom!"

"Dylan!"

I had to smile. It was very obvious that Maggie loved her son above all else, and I couldn't help wanting her to love me as much.

She kissed her son goodnight and gave Tessa one more instruction.

"Don't wait up."

Maggie pulled on her coat, wrapping a brightly coloured scarf around her neck. I steered her out of the door and down two flights of stairs to the ground level, out another set of doors, finally handing her into my truck and shutting the door. Three deep breaths to steady my nerves and I was sitting beside her. The truck started easily, heat roaring on, CD player switching to Schubert, my latest favourite. I realised a little too late that Death and the Maiden might not be the best choice to start the evening.

"No, don't. I like this," Maggie said when I tried to change it.

"You like Schubert?"

"Yeah. Death and the Maiden, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's beautiful. So sad."

"It's not called Death and the Maiden for nothing. I had thought it might jinx our night, and that's why I was going to change it."

"I don't believe in jinxes about songs, but Sarah does. She claims that she was singing Tom Petty's Don't Come Around Here No More at work and was fired later that day."

"Unfortunate for her," I said, smiling, "Schubert's one of my favourites. Cheryl's trying to get me to sing The Erlking, in the original German."

"Das Erlkoenig. I'd like to hear it. My grandfather used to tell Dylan that if he didn't behave, the Erlking would come and get him. Great way to keep a kid in line."

"Somehow I find it hard to believe that Dylan has ever given you a hard time."

"That's because he's still afraid the goblin king is going to come after him."

That was it. I was in love. Undeniably, unconditionally in love with Maggie Mitchell.

I wanted the night to be perfect. By a stroke of incredible luck, I managed to get a table at Bonhomie, the most in-demand restaurant in town. I was going to come out of the night with a severe dent in my wallet, but Maggie was worth it.

It was hard to keep from staring at her. I simply could not believe my luck. By all accounts, Maggie would not normally be going out with a bloke like me. She would be out with a suave, good-looking man with enough money to make nights out a regular thing. But I would make the most of this night, and maybe, just maybe, there would be a chance for me.

"Everyone's staring," she muttered as the host showed us to our table.

"They've never seen anyone so beautiful," I said, without thinking. Dear God, I hope it didn't sound too practiced.

Maggie looked at the floor, and if I wasn't mistaken, she blushed a little. If I didn't make an ass of myself, the night would go well.

It started out all right. Nothing horrible happened; I didn't spill wine on myself, made sure I didn't say anything incredibly stupid-until about five minutes after we sat down.

"This is fantastic, Brian," Maggie said. "How did you get reservations so quickly?"

"Sheer luck." It was the truth. I had called the restaurant the day after she agreed to dinner and begged. They put me at the top of the stand-by list, and a table opened up.

Maggie laughed. I wanted the chance to make her laugh every day. It was the best sound in the world. So light and musical, and it went straight to her lovely brown eyes.

The maitre'd showed us to our table, which had a great view of the dance floor. Maggie's face lit up when she saw it, and I felt uneasy. I'm not much of a dancer. I never have been. It has something to do with being about 6 feet tall and built somewhat like a brick wall, I think.

It also didn't help that the band was starting to play a Latin set and singing in French. I was confused in less than three seconds. Maggie, however, wasn't.

"Can we dance?" she asked almost immediately after we ordered. I tried to stall.

"You like dancing, then?"

"Adore it. It's great exercise and it's fun."

"Are you saying I need exercise?" I teased. She grinned.

"Hardly. Come on, it'll be fun."

"I don't know how."

"It's not hard. I'll teach you. Please?"

Like I would have been able to say no, especially after seeing the other couples on the dance floor. And it looked easy enough. I could do this.

I couldn't do that. Maggie pulled me onto the floor and tried to explain it.

"The merengue is the easiest. It's basically picking your feet up just a tiny bit in time with the music."

I got that part. She was right, it was easy. Trying to synchronise that with her was difficult, and then she started moving her hips and my concentration was shot.

I fared a little better with the salsa (which I maintain is better left as a condiment for potatoes and Mexican food) but it was still rather disastrous. It was hard to maintain my focus on dancing, with Maggie as a partner. I stepped on her feet at least four times.

The song ended, and apparently the band was taking a break. A bit of canned music started, and one of the singers slowly approached us.

"Pardon me," he said, tipping his black fedora away from his face. "I was hoping to have a dance with your charming companion."

I don't like Frenchmen. Especially those trying to horn in on my date. But I could hardly be rude to him when Maggie was right there, and he had asked politely. With Maggie's permission, I handed her over to the singer and stationed myself at the edge of the dance floor.

Maggie was a dancer. That was easy to see. She was graceful and light on her feet, the opposite of myself. I watched as her new partner whirled her around the floor in perfect time to the music and felt another wave of anxiety wash over me. I found myself nibbling at my fingernails again. She deserved to be with someone like that singer, someone who could match her in grace and skill, someone who could afford to take her out dancing once a week, not once a month or year.

Then something interesting happened. Something that I did not expect.

While Maggie was out on the dance floor with the...singer...a woman approached me. A vivacious blonde with very long legs and wearing an incredibly provocative dress. And she was coming straight to me.

"Hello," she purred. A corner of my mouth twitched. "My name's Candy, and I'm psychic. You're going to ask me to dance."

"No, I'm not." You look too much like Emily, and that is someone I don't want to be thinking about right now.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie glare in my direction.

"Sure you are," she said, pouting a little, obviously to draw attention to her lips, which I had no intention of looking at. Emily did much the same thing...

"I'm not much of a dancer."

"But you were dancing with that brunette chick!" Then, seductively, "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"That 'brunette chick' is my date."

"Good for her. It doesn't mean you can't dance with me, though. She's dancing with that other guy. Did I mention that I think you're incredibly sexy? Irish accents always turn me on."

"Yeah, and my foot up your ass had better turn you off," Maggie snapped. Candy sized her up, and Maggie returned the favour. My money was on Maggie if this escalated to a catfight.

"Don't get in a snit just 'cause I'm talking to your date," Candy said, with as much attitude as Maggie.

"I will if I choose to!" Maggie replied, low and deadly. "He said he wasn't interested in dancing with you, so get lost!"

"You can't order me around!"

"Watch me. If you're not out of my sight by the count of three, we'll both be kicked out of here, and you've got a good idea why."

Maggie was the smaller woman, but was doubtlessly more fit and ready to beat the stuffing out of Candy. The threat Maggie was making told me something. She didn't like that woman talking to me. She was jealous!

"One. Two. Three." Candy hadn't moved by the time Maggie finished counting. Maggie took one step forward, eyes locked with the taller woman, daring her to act. Candy turned and nearly ran away.

"That was very ... sexy," I said with a grin. Maggie beamed. Then that singer had to come back around. Good mood shot to hell.

"Thank you, Luc," she said, blushing a little. "It was fun dancing with you."

"You are welcome, mademoiselle. Sir, your girlfriend is a very good dancer. I thank you for allowing me the pleasure of dancing with her."

I grunted out a "You're welcome," a bit put out that he could be so polite and gracious and I was not above jealousy. I felt a little better that Maggie wasn't, either. Maggie chuckled and slipped her arm around mine.

"Come on, you old sheepdog," she said, rolling her eyes. "The food's ready."

"You really like dancing."

"You think?" she giggled. "I used to sneak out and go to clubs in high school."

"How did you get in?" I asked without thinking. It was painful, at times, that I could be so stupid. "You had a fake i.d."

"Of course! I still have it, in fact. Got it framed."

"That's something I'd like to see."

"Maybe you will sometime."

Ooh. Hope!

We sat down at the table, I first helping Maggie to her seat, and the silver covers were lifted off the dishes. The servers disappeared almost immediately.

"Hmm." Maggie studied the plate in front of her. "I thought I had asked for no onions."

She began to pick the onions off the food, setting them delicately on the edge of her plate.

"I'm sure you did. Let me call the waiter. You should get a new dinner."

"No, don't worry about it. I can deal with a few onions."

"They didn't get your order right. Waiter?" I caught our waiter's attention and motioned for him to come over.

"Brian, don't! See, no onions!"

"Is something wrong?" the waiter asked.

"Yes. Miss Mitchell asked that her meal not have onions, and there are onions in it. Can you please correct the situation?"

"Of course," he said, trying to take her plate.

"No, don't worry about it," she said firmly, with a small frown. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Then please allow us to give you a free dessert, to make up for the error in your meal."

"Fine. Thank you." The waiter left and Maggie grinned. "Please tell me you did that to get us free dessert."

I hadn't, but...

"Naturally."

"You didn't, did you?"

"No."

She laughed again. "You need to relax. It's been a while since you've been on a date too, huh?"

"Yes. Is it that obvious?"

"Boy, is it! It's been over seven years for me. Since before Dylan was born."

I stopped to think about how long it had been for myself, and realised that my last real date had been with Emily, a little before we-

"It's been about that long for me, too."

"Well then, it looks like we're getting back in the game at the same time."

"I suppose so." I'm only back in because of you.

"To the game," she said, raising her wine glass.

"To the game."

The Latin band was packing up before dinner was over, and a new act was setting up. A lounge singer and a grand piano. Now, I might be able to work with a slow song. And she did like dancing.

"Maggie, would you like to dance?" I asked as the busboy took the plates. "I mean, with me?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she replied with a grin. "I'd love to."

It was easier to find the rhythm in those songs. There wasn't any complicated steps to slow dancing, so I wasn't in danger of making a fool of myself. Not that I would have minded; holding Maggie so close made me forget almost everything else.

"That Candy woman is still watching you," Maggie murmured.

"Is she? I hadn't noticed." There was that pointy glare digging into my back...

"You don't seem to notice much."

"Only the important things."

"Oh? And what are the important things?"

"You and Dylan." It was such a matter of fact answer. But maybe it was too much; she didn't say anything.

Anything is preferable to silence. The song was a cover of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World," which was one of my favourites, and I began to sing along.

"I see skies of blue and clouds of white, the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world."

She looked up at me, and if I wasn't mistaken, her eyes were red. Was she crying?

"I'm not ready to go home," Maggie said later, swinging her arms as we walked out of the restaurant. "Let's go for a walk. It's such a beautiful night."

"It's cold and overcast. How it that beautiful?"

"It's all in the eye of the beholder, you silly man. You're right, of course, that it's cold and overcast, but it is December and we're about due for snow."

"Yes."

We were silent for a few minutes while we walked down to the river under the soft yellow glow of streetlamps.

"I had fun tonight," she said, slipping her arm through mine. "It's been a while since anyone's made a fuss over me."

"Oh." My mind was going a mile a minute, trying to think of something better to say than 'Oh.' I didn't realise that Maggie had stepped away and was looking out over the river.

"You know the one thing that really annoys me about you?" Maggie asked, leaning over the low wall on the embankment. "You over-think everything."

That brought me out of my reverie quickly, the same way a bucket of ice water would wake a sound sleeper.

"Do I?"

"You're doing it right now! You spend way too much time second-guessing yourself and trying to find the perfect thing to say. I don't want you to be Don Juan or Cassanova or whatever. I want you to be Brian Campbell. That's enough for me."

She came over to me and stood very close, close enough to touch but not really. She looked up at me.

"You deserve so much more than me."

"Oh, God, Brian!" The spell was broken, she stepped away. I wanted to follow, but my feet wouldn't move. "That's another thing. You're so busy putting yourself down that you don't see what's right in front of you! Do you know how many women dream about going out with a guy like you? Charming, intelligent, handsome, chivalrous. You fill most of every woman's criteria for 'Dream Guy.'"

"I still contest handsome."

"Brian! Okay, so Brad Pitt you're not. Or Colin Firth. You're closer to Alan Rickman or Ciarán Hinds. But they're still sexy. Really, it's true what Shakespeare said-"

"Lord, what fools these mortals be?"

"No, but that's true too. I meant that 'love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore winged Cupid painted blind.'"

I couldn't believe what she was saying. It was too good to be true.

"Do me a favour, Brian," she said, once again stepping close. This time, I could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body. "Clear your mind of every thought in it. Just empty it completely. Now, tell me the first thing that comes into your head."

"I want to kiss you." Well, she had asked.

"Why don't you?" she asked in a whisper, placing one hand on my chest. Could she feel how fast my heart was beating?

"I don't know how you'd react."

"You're over-thinking again! Try it and find out. Take a risk. Kiss me."

She had given me permission, had practically ordered me to. And she was so close ... But-

"I can't."

She whirled away, sighing in disgust.

"Maggie-" I tried to follow this time, and I skidded on a patch of ice before catching her elbow. I pulled her around to face me. "I have to go slowly, Maggie. I can't risk getting hurt again."

"Brian, when I was six my father took the training wheels off my bike. I fell, and I scraped my knees up pretty bad. I didn't learn how to ride a bike without training wheels until I was twelve. I missed out on six years of freedom, all because I was afraid to risk getting hurt. I haven't dated seriously in the last seven years because I've had a son to take care of, and I just can't do it alone anymore."

"I'm not talking about giving up, though. Just going slowly."

The spectre of Emily appeared in my mind's eye, hollow eyes and wasted face scowling from behind a sheet of icy blonde hair. I shook my head and banished the image back to obscurity. Why now? Why would she come back now, a mere figment of my imagination? Emily was gone; Maggie was just a few steps away from me and much more present than Emily ever was.

"Fine."

"Are you angry with me?" I asked. Her back was to me, I couldn't tell her mood.

"Yes. No. Maybe. A little. More angry with myself."

I put my arms around her waist, on impulse, and she leaned back against me. It was a start. And it felt so good, so right.

"Why?"

"I'm used to guys, well, one guy, anyway, who know what they want and go for it, without thinking of the consequences and I kinda expected you to be like that. I should be glad you're not." She was talking about the infamous Jimmy Walker, I was sure of it. It was easy not to think about him, and focus instead on the woman in my arms. "There's just something about you, Brian. I don't know what, exactly, but-"

There she took me by surprise, turning around and kissing me full on the mouth. I may not be the most articulate person when I'm around her, but I'm not stupid. I was surprised, and gladly returned the favour.

"God, I've been wanting to do that for ages."

"Then why didn't you?" I teased. She grinned and slapped my chest.

Oh, God, she smelled so good! I kissed her hair to catch the scent of her perfume.

"You're a very confusing woman, Maggie."

"Yeah. I'm still trying to figure myself out. Bear with me."

This time I kissed her, tilting her chin up to meet her lips with mine.

"Very nice," she whispered. "I didn't know English professors could kiss like that."

"It's from reading the Canterbury Tales in the original Middle English."

"Right. Now who's full of bull----?"

"Ah, well. I had to try. I suppose I'm just a man of many talents."

"Now that I'll believe. Cook, clean, teach, act. Sing. Fix plumbing, train dogs. Watch seven-year-old soccer freaks, date the mother of a seven-year-old soccer freak. Is there anything you can't do? Other than dance."

"I don't know. Skydive, perhaps. Bungee jump. Eat a live cockroach. That sort of thing."

"Now you're a smart---. Regan warned me about you."

"I'm curious about that," I said, putting an arm around her waist as we walked back to the parking lot. "She's a darling girl, but can exaggerate at times."

"Don't worry. I work for lawyers, remember? I've learned how to see past the bull---- to the truth. Sometimes it just takes a little longer than usual." A moment of silence. "So you'd eat a dead cockroach?"

"If covered in chocolate. Chocolate cures many ills."

I escorted Maggie to her apartment late that night.

"No, no, not yet," I pleaded, pulling her away from the door before she could key in.

"I'm paying Tessa by the hour," she murmured.

"That's very unconvincing." She smiled and laid her head on my chest.

"I had a wonderful time."

"Me too. We should do this again some time."

She was there! In my arms! I could die a happy man.

"How about next week?" she suggested.

"It's Christmas next week."

"And your point is?"

"You'll be with your family." I had yet to meet most of her family. Sarah was the only one I had met, actually, and that bothered me.

"Not all the time. I'll need to get away. We could go bowling! Just you, me, and Dylan."

"Bowling?"

"Yeah, you know, throw a big, heavy ball down a lane and try to knock down ten little penguin-wannabes."

"I know what bowling is. I thought you might want to go dancing, since you like it so much."

"Not yet. Slow dances you're good at, but anything else needs work. You'll need a few lessons before I take you out dancing," Maggie said. I chuckled.

"Yes, yes, I do. And how am I going to get these lessons on my busy schedule?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something. I'm perfectly willing to give you private lessons."

"Private lessons? I like the sound of that. One on one, I take it?"

"Just you, me, and the stereo. Of course, finding a sitter for Regan and Dylan would be difficult," she said with a smirk.

"Yes, finding a sitter for Regan will be hard. We can't have Dylan watch her?"

"They'd destroy the apartment. And Keller would be peeing all over the place."

"Marking it for his own. He marked you, if I remember correctly."

"Yup. You owe me a pair of shoes."

"I'll buy you a closetful." I'll make room in mine, so you can move in as soon as you want.

"One will be fine. Speaking of money, don't spend so much on me again. It was nice, sure, but I just like spending time with you. I don't need fancy restaurants or that stuff."

"You deserve the finest things in life," I said with all sincerity. "I want to spend money on you. I like spending money on you. You're worth it. Don't argue with me on that. It's true, you know it, but you won't say it."

"You really are a sweetheart," she said quietly.

"I've been hearing that a lot recently. Must be true."

"It is. Now, shut up and kiss me."

Gladly.

Kissing her is something I greatly enjoy doing. It ranks right up there with football as a favourite pastime.

"I should be getting inside," Maggie sighed, a respectable amount of time later. "Tessa has to work tomorrow, and I'm sure she's going to want details."

"Hmm. And Regan will be grilling me for information as soon as I get home. Can I stay here tonight?" Maggie laughed.

"I think that would only make it worse," she said.

"You're probably right. The least I can do is show you to your door. Ah, look, it's right here. Key?"

Maggie grinned and held out her key ring. After a little trial and error, I found the right one and unlocked the door.

The apartment was dark and mostly quiet; there was a dim light and faint music coming from the living room, the result of the television left on while Tessa slept on the sofa. Maggie checked on Dylan, who was apparently still awake.

"Hey, baby. You should be asleep."

"I wanted to be awake when you got home. Is Brian here?"

"Yes," I said softly from the doorway. I liked what I saw: Maggie sitting on the edge of Dylan's bed, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow on mother and son.

"Did you kiss my mom?" he asked, point blank. Maggie choked.

"Yes," I answered seriously, trying not to smile.

"That's gross."

"Yeah," I said, shrugging, "But I got used to it."

"Are you going to go out again?" He was asking me.

"I think so. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah." The boy turned his attention back to Maggie. "Mom, I like Brian."

"I like him too," she said. I could hear her smile. "You're tired. You need to sleep."

"Okay. Good night, Mom. Good night, Brian."

"Good night, Dylan," I said.

"Good night, sweetheart. Sleep sweet."

Good wine was not as intoxicating as that little scene. It was so perfect, the whole night ended up being perfect. Dinner with the woman I loved, coming home to the boy I looked on as a son. Home was wherever they were, a hotel room if need be. So long as they were with me, I was happy.

Maggie closed the door behind her, the soft click somehow enough to wake Tessa up.

"Mhph. I wasn't sleeping," she said, somewhat dazed. "Just-"

"Checking the inside of your eyelids for leaks," I finished. I had heard that one so many times, at least once a semester. But I didn't mind. Nothing could ruin my mood.

But there is that piece of advice; "Never say never."

"Right. Uh, Dylan went to sleep at 10; your mother called twice but wouldn't leave a message; I finished the Diet Coke with Lime (I'll buy you another one); and Jimmy called, he said he needs to reschedule your date for next week."

Continued In Next Section