The Latecomers Fan Club by Diane V Mulligan

Author:Diane V Mulligan [Mulligan, Diane V]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Diane V. Mulligan
Published: 2014-01-04T04:30:00+00:00

Maggie

Thursday night after work, after her mother and Frank went to bed, Maggie sat on the couch flipping through a magazine wondering how she’d get through the weekend. It was her weekend to work, so she didn’t have another day off until Wednesday. Torture. She was contemplating the feasibility of calling in sick when her phone rang. It was almost eleven o’clock. People only make calls after ten o’clock if there’s an emergency. She glanced at the screen. Nathaniel. Heart racing, she answered the phone.

“Hey, Mags,” he said, his words thick. She could practically smell the alcohol on his breath over the phone.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it’s late, and you sound pretty lit up.”

“What? No. I just, I just miss you, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Maggie said. It had been a long, long time since anyone drunk dialed her. She didn’t know what to do. Hanging up seemed like a good option, but it was Nathaniel. She couldn’t hang up on Nathaniel. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, work is really busy. Midterms.”

Maggie waited to see if he was going to say more. She didn’t have much to contribute to this conversation. She certainly didn’t feel like pouring her heart out to someone who wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow, and she hated that the first time he called in weeks was in a drunken stupor.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked after a moment.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I should have called sooner. I’m such an idiot.”

Yes, you are, she thought, and so am I. Why had she been pinning all her hopes on Nathaniel? Thirty-four years old and he was acting like a sloppy teenager. Ridiculous. “Why don’t you call me tomorrow? We can talk tomorrow.”

“No, don’t go,” he said. He sounded like he might cry. “I fucked up, I know, I fucked up everything. But don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“Okay, I don’t really know what you’re talking about, but don’t worry about it. I’m not mad at you.” She needed to end this call. She needed to talk to him when he was sober and figure out what the hell this was all about.

“Please, Maggie,” he said.

“I’m going to call you tomorrow.” She hung up the phone. Not two minutes later, it rang again, but she didn’t answer. He tried three more times before giving up. Whatever was going on, Maggie realized, whatever was keeping him distant from her, it wasn’t about his feelings for her. She didn’t know if that was a relief or not.

Saturday morning at the store was slow, as always. Unless there was some special sale with doorbusters, Saturday mornings were long, boring hours of straightening racks and refolding clothes. Maggie was counting the minutes until her lunch break when she could call Nathaniel. She needed to figure out what was up with him. Drunk dialing—so absurdly childish. Not a peep in weeks and then this. What was he thinking? She couldn’t stand the idea that Nathaniel might have become just another disillusioned alcoholic.

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