By Micki L. Bailey

"Is Maggie home?" Earl Ray shouted over the noise.

He was seated restlessly in a lawn chair in a corner of the basement parking lot under the building where the Lococcos lived. Half-heartedly, he was watching Roger do some welding, following the brilliant sparks as they spewed upward and outward sporadically.

After a minute, he assumed Roger had not heard him. "Hey, man!"

Instantly, Roger shut off the flame, and the noise ceased. But instead of giving Earl Ray his full attention, he inspected his work with gloved hands.

"What?" he asked calmly with his back to Earl Ray.

"I don’t see her wheels. Is she around?" Earl Ray repeated his inquiry.

"Who?" Roger continued to concentrate on his project.

Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and sighing, Earl Ray said, "C’mon, man. Is that all you got? One-word answers? Who else would I be asking ‘bout?"

"Ohh……..Ya must be talking ‘bout my exquisite and charming wife……..the beautiful, sensuous one with a temper of volcanic proportions………the one I acquired………from you."

Only then did Roger slowly turn, push up his protective goggles, and lock eyes with his guest. He allowed a small, sly smile to flicker across his face.

Earl Ray had raised his head off the back of the chair and was now trying hard to prevent his hands from forming fists. Refusing to regurgitate recent history, he just stared at Roger without expression.

Pulling off his gloves and walking over, Roger laughed quietly. "Just joking with ya, Michaels………Sorry, man…….You’re not gonna hit me again, are ya?"

Earl Ray stood up and steadied himself. Inside and out. "Naw, man………No sweat. Whatcha making there?" He intentionally diverted the subject.

Roger glanced over his shoulder for a second. "Eh, nothing really. My way of blowing off steam and killing some time. Grab those glasses there, and I’ll show ya."

"Thanks, man, but no. Saw too many explosions in my time to actually wanna play with fire." Earl Ray shrugged. Or rather shivered.

Roger laughed again. "Then let’s go upstairs and get a beer."

Following him, Earl Ray said, "Now you’re talking."

Both of them seated in the loft’s den, Roger finally answered his question. "Maggie’s off somewhere………Who the hell knows where?" He smiled briefly. "Can’t keep up with her since that damn car got here. Ah, but I’ve got a vague idea where she might be."

"Yeah, she loves that thing. And I knew your ass’d give in and get it for ‘er. But it’s more than a new setta wheels…….She’s got more energy lately……..a different attitude or something…….She’s revitalized, man. Running on high-octane, ya know." Earl Ray shook his head. He consciously ignored the "ESP" reference Roger had dropped.

Roger smiled again, almost involuntarily, mostly to himself. He’s got more spirit than usual too, Earl Ray thought. Then, rather sadly, he recalled how contagious Maggie’s "moods" could be.

"So…….Are ya popping the proverbial big question on V-Day, Michaels?"

Earl Ray snapped back to attention. "Hell no! Absolutely no more question-popping happening in the lifetime of this ol’ boy. No way, José. Three’s too damn many already."

"Then what are ya doing, loverboy? Deena’s gonna expect something. You know women and this holiday." Roger raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

"Don’t worry ‘bout it, Lococco. I got some time. February just started, man."

"Just started SIX DAYS AGO, Earl Ray. Jeez, no wonder you’ve got three ex-wives."

"Fuck off, Roger."

"Ahh, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that little quip…….." Roger relaxed on the sofa and put his head back.

"What are YOU doing for the big romantic occasion, asshole?"

"Well……if she’ll go with me, I might take Maggie up in the mountains to a secluded cabin………Just us………A change of scenery from Portland."

Earl Ray smirked. "If she’ll go with ya…….What are you? Stoned, Lococco?"

Silently, Roger hunched his shoulders and laughed. "She’s unpredictable, Earl Ray. You should know that."

Earl Ray rolled his eyes. Again. "Don’t try to play me. She’s unpredictable except when it comes to you. She’ll go to the end of the Earth for you."

"Yeah, maybe she already has………." Roger’s voice was soft, whispery. "Anyway, she needs a break………some peace of mind."

"She asked me Tuesday if I was planning a visit to see Sahndra." Earl Ray spit out. Now seemed like a good time. "Said she’d written a letter and wanted it hand-delivered."

Roger sat up slightly and peered at him. "Really? Are you going back there? Isn’t that bitch still locked away or something?"

"Yes, she’s still locked away…….Probably will be from now on. Goddamn whoring sow. And, like I told Maggie, no fucking way am I going back there. That piece-of-shit Sahndra can rot in hell for all I care."

"So did Maggie go ahead and mail the letter?" Roger’s focus was on one thing. Maggie.

Earl Ray sighed, not surprised. "How the hell do I know, Roger? She’s your damn wife now. Remember? What’sa matter, man? Losing your fabulous investigative sense or something?"

Smiling, Roger sat back again and drank from his beer. "Touché, Michaels."

* * *

Although she didn’t show up at the loft before Earl Ray left that day, he remembered all too vividly Maggie’s features during the conversation they’d had a few days earlier. The two of them were having lunch at TJ’s – club sandwiches and draft beer. Roger was occupied elsewhere with a potential client.

"God! Is it absolutely magnificent or what? I could drive forever! I swear those wheels don’t even touch the road!" Her eyes flashed wildly as she bit into the sandwich. "Don’tcha love it?"

"Tires, baby. It’s the tires that would hit the road."

"Whatever," she said with a full mouth. "That’s the finest car I could’ve chosen. Smooth, sleek, and powerful…….Definitely a superior machine. And I don’t even like to drive!"

Earl Ray smiled. "Ya left out ‘safe,’ Mags."

"Screw you, Earl Ray. Roger goes monotonously overkill sometimes with that protective shit…….Wears me out." She smirked melodramatically, and he couldn’t stifle a little laugh.

Roger had been severely adamant that Maggie select a "safe" automobile to replace her crushed Saab. And what could be safer than a Volvo, the car known internationally for its safety?

"Look, sweets. They’ve got this sporty little coupe now," he had tried desperately to convince her. "And you can even get it in a convertible."

Maggie, however, had spotted and craved the Lexus SC 400. And, as Earl Ray predicted, the SC 400 was exactly what she ultimately ended up with. A stunning "golden pearl" colored one, with plush leather interior of the same shade. Roger had eventually relented and bought it for her as a Christmas gift, making her overtly happy.

The Lococco concession (and, of course, there had been one) was to include extra, specially-designed "safety features" which Maggie had not been aware even existed, and actually didn’t exist for the average, uninformed civilian consumer.

She had agreed although her "personally enhanced" vehicle wasn’t delivered until three weeks into January. She had agreed because she trusted Roger – he knew best, as always.

"I could drive slowly through a wall of flames and sustain a crash from a goddamn tank in that automobile, Earl Ray. Don’t talk to me ‘bout safe, you asshole."

Earl Ray was still laughing at her, watching her eat. "He’s just looking out for ya, Maggie. You DID come close to being a pancake, ya know."

She snorted with exasperation. "Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m SAFE now. Just try taking a sledge hammer to one of those damn windows."

"The power of love."

"Shut up, Earl Ray. Are you gonna eat your pickle?"

"Naw, baby. Here." Still amused, he handed the pickle to her and then glanced down to pick up a section of his sandwich. "You definitely got that ravenous appetite back, huh?"

"Hey……Are you going back to visit…….uh, Sahndra…….anytime soon?"

The few little words were abrupt, out of the blue, changing the subject entirely. He almost dropped his food as he looked up at her slowly.

"No, Maggie……Why?"

He immediately noticed tiny, bright flames in her pupils as she glared across at him intently. "Well, you went at Christmas……..I just thought you might go back."

Carefully, trying to navigate her psyche, he proceeded. "I went home to Tennessee at Christmas, angel………I just stopped off there to clear up some final business with Van, Sahndra’s attorney."

"I know who Van is, Earl Ray. He represented you in our divorce."

"Yeah……..right." He remained cautious. The miniature flames still blazed in her orbs. "But I never went out to the ‘home’ where they put her. She probably wouldn’t have known me anyway. Van says she only recognizes her family ‘bout half the time. Why bother, hmmm?" He smiled quickly, attempting to lighten the mood.

"So you’re not going back at all?"

He bit the inside of his lip. "No, sweetie…..…I don’t plan to. No real reason……..What’s the deal?"

"I wrote ‘er a letter……..I just wanted it delivered in person." Maggie’s voice was almost a whisper.

"Baby……she won’t understand it……She’s all but catatonic in between seizures, according to Van."

She had looked down finally then and didn’t look up again until she spoke, after a pause. When Earl gazed into those eyes the next time, he was astonished. No more flames.

My beer’s warmer than what’s there, he thought.

"It’s not for her really……It’s for me……I had to write it…….and I don’t care if she understands it or not. I’m past that…….her understanding…….I don’t care about her whatsoever……But I DID want her to at least read it."

Still blown away by the sudden chill in the air, Earl Ray managed to respond. "She’ll get it, Mags. FedX it or something……..Ya wanna share it? Talk ‘bout it?"

Jesus, where’s my coat? he thought as she spoke again. "No, not really…….This letter was just my……uh……unburdening, my release……..more for my inner sanctity than anything else……I had to get it out of me…………..whether she ever sees it or not."

He studied her momentarily. "A purging kinda thing?"

"An exorcism." She smiled, and warmth began to re-enter their immediate atmosphere.

"You were above all that shit, Maggie, what that crazy slob tried to do to you and all………She proved herself pretty much incapable of being an honest, caring friend……It was almost like she became a vicious, mad animal, bent on destroying you……….like all she had in ‘er was bullshit and nothing else."

"I know, Earl Ray……I know now." Her smile was sad and lovely.

"Well, I’m glad you’re……um……unburdened, as you say, of your terrible demons. And if I had the time, I’d go back and deliver that letter for ya, sweetie. But that husband of yours has got me booked up right now."

"Don’t worry ‘bout it, honey……I’ll take care of it."

Yeah, I believe you will, baby. Got your balance back now, don’tcha? You look like you can take care of about anything, Earl Ray thought to himself as he watched her.

* * *

Back in mid-December, Maggie had suffered a bout of the "wintertime blues." Although she tried her best to keep it all to herself, those close to her knew she was deflated in spirit. They all know I’m crying down deep inside, she thought.

She was experiencing her first harsh Pacific Northwest winter AND her first Christmas season away from her close-knit family. Plus, the lingering, thick, post-traumatic stress from the whole ugly Sahndra situation still hung heavily around her heart and mind like wet drapes. Cold, dark, energy-zapping depression that she wearily continued to fight off.

Sensing all of this, as usual, Roger had taken her south to sunny, warm Los Angeles for the week after Christmas. The bright, bustling city with its beautiful weather combined with Roger’s unyielding affection, understanding, and passion had miraculously boosted her emotions back up to normal levels. She drew strength from his mere presence. Refreshed and ready to tackle another year, they returned to Portland to await the arrival of Maggie’s new "set of wheels."

Then, just two days before the Lexus was scheduled to be delivered, she felt the unkind despondency sniffing around her again like a hungry lion. The cruel low tide was threatening to wash over her soul once again.

This time, however, had been triggered by a tangible occurrence: an ominous phone call from Frank McPike. Potential loneliness and/or danger in Maggie’s book.

"Maggie? How are you? This is McPike……...uh, Frank."

She tried to keep the echo of her falling heart out of her voice. "Frank! Nice to hear from you again! Howya doing? Were your holidays wonderful?"

"They were great, and thanks so much for the Christmas card. Not in a million years did I ever expect to get one of those with Roger Lococco’s name on it. I’m holding onto it for posterity."

Maggie laughed. Outwardly, at least. "I made those on the PC. Finding indoor activity during the winter is the name of the game way up here, Frank. It’s usually too frigid to venture outside."

"Well, it was very thoughtful of you, Maggie. And speaking of cold, is your charming husband available?" Frank knew better than to bother her with business details. Roger had already made that crystal clear.

"He’s up on the north end of town this afternoon. Here…….Lemme give you his new pager number. He’s always changing that damn thing. You know Roger." She recited the number to him.

"Thanks, Maggie…..Yeah, I know Roger, and I still say you are a veritable saint, sweetheart."

She chuckled. "Somebody has to love ‘im, Frank."

"Well, whatever you say. I’ll give him a beep. Oh, and Vinnie sends his love."

Now she laughed. "Back at him. Tell him to call me."

"Will do," Frank said in his usual monotone. "I’ll talk to ya later. Take care."

When Maggie put down the phone, she realized her hands were sweaty and clammy. In the bathroom, as she washed and dried them, she caught herself staring at her reflection in the mirror. What she saw looking back at her was alarming.

Is that actually me? For real? she heard screaming in her head. Tell me it’s not! It can’t possibly be! Look at those horrible dark lines under my eyes! And those silvery-gray streaks in the roots of my hair! And where’s all the color I used to have in my skin? God, please tell me this is someone else, someone much older and far more battle-scarred than I am.

No, dear. THIS is the true you, resounded her answer. War-fatigued and shell-shocked. Walking wounded. The real life after-effects of psyche trauma, heart sickness, deep depression. Did you imagine you’d come out of the whole mess without a single scar? That you’d somehow pull through unscathed and still be the vibrant, young innocent you once were?

Think again, Maggie. You’re older now with lots more tread on your tires. You’ve been through some uncommon trouble, some vicious hell fires, and you’ve got the markings to prove it now. Everything has its price. Your survival thus far is no exception.

Then, unexpectedly, her eyes moved quickly, involuntarily, and landed on an image that never failed to stir her soul. Roger.

In the mirror, she could see a framed photo of him on her nightstand in the bedroom. It was a candid shot taken at their wedding. Her beloved in his black tails with an off-white rose on his lapel, his hands folded in front of him as he half-smiled at something in the distance. Maggie sat down on the bed and held the picture frame in her hands tenderly.

My beautiful protector. My most handsome lover. The unequivocal best thing I’ve ever found in my life. He alone is my consummate everything. He gives me anything I might need or want. How can I possibly suffer such downheartedness and pain with THIS as the center of my world?

After all he’s endured throughout his long life – the loss of his parents as a young boy, the hellishness of Vietnam, the ruthless insecurity of being an undercover special agent, the loneliness and isolation he’d learned to find comfort in before me – he STILL finds the courage to go on and the love to give me so selflessly.

He sustains me absolutely. How utterly ridiculous my petty little grieving seems against what he’s conquered. Where’ve I been these past few months that I couldn’t see what all this nonsense was doing to me? Wasting me away for no substantial reason! Why couldn’t I see what’s REALLY important and what matters most to me?

It isn’t fair, she decided in that instant, that moment of truth. I’m not even coming close to pulling my weight around here. I’ve just been drifting along in a sad little sea of depression while he’s been patiently and diligently keeping my head above the water. And something must change. Reconnaissance is in order.

I must try to help/improve myself at least as much as he’s tried to help me. I owe it to myself, and I owe it to him. Because he’s worth it. Because he deserves it. Because he’s what matters most. Because, above all else, I love him.

So Maggie lightly kissed the photo and placed the frame back on her nightstand. Then she calmly walked into Roger’s study and sat down at the PC.

Elyse, her new best friend and unofficial therapist, had taught her to identify the root of her "depressed" feelings and advance from there in the healing process. Knowing full well what the root of her biggest problem was because she’d wrestled with it for so many months now, Maggie began to pour out her soul in a forum she was most familiar with – writing.

"Dear Sahndra," she typed.

* * *

"Hey, baby………You asleep?" Roger asked her in his sultry, bedroom voice.

They were lying on a blanket and pillows in front of the round, self-contained fireplace he had installed in a corner of the den. She lay peacefully on his chest as he stroked her back and shoulders with his fingertips. Only the crackling fire could be heard in the room.

Maggie barely moved, sliding her hand down over his stomach and abdomen, resting it between his legs. "No…….but I gotta be dreaming………That was the best ever, Roger." Then she kissed his chest.

She’d been on top, straddling him, mounted on him, feeling his swollen hardness far up inside her. As they clasped their hands together, locking fingers and locking eyes, she had ridden him – slowly at first, rocking gently back and forth, then more intensely as the heat inside them merged and increased, and finally furiously and feverishly – until they both exploded shatteringly and breathtakingly into each other. She had cried out his name at her peak. He had then pulled her down to him and kissed her wetly, sweetly.

"You did all the work, cowgirl," he whispered now, holding her.

"I love you, Roger. I wouldn’t trade this right here right now for anything on the planet."

He kissed the top of her head. "Gotta talk to ya about something, Maggie. Now seems like as gooda time as any."

Instinctively, she stiffened and then regretted it. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. It had been over two weeks since Frank called. Roger had explained then that it was a routine call and "nothing to fret over." He wouldn’t be leaving. If things had changed since, she was now steadfastly determined to face the music with a stronger state of mind.

He squeezed her tighter to him. He had noticed her reaction. "Are you gonna be free next weekend?" he asked matter-of-factly.

She was a little surprised. "Next weekend? I don’t see why not. What’s up?"

"Well, I found this little chalet way up in the mountains……..It’s loaded…….hot tub……fireplace…..full bar with champagne……everything. I took the liberty of renting it, and thought I’d try talking you into joining me. Whadaya say?"

Maggie let out a deep, relieved breath onto his still-moist skin. "Jeez, Roger……I thought you were telling me you had to go away again……with Frank."

"Ahh, baby. You need to forget that bullshit. I’m staying right here……..with you……..just like I said I would," he said softly.

"Really?" She snuggled as close to him as she could manage.

"Really…….Now how ‘bout next weekend?"

"Of course I’ll go, Roger. Valentine’s Day in a mountain chalet with you………I wouldn’t miss it." "Oh, is that Valentine’s Day?"

Maggie raised up on her elbow and watched the playfulness dancing in his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile.

"Ya know you’re gorgeous," she whispered.

He pushed stray bangs out of her eyes with his right hand. "I’m looking at gorgeous, baby. What was that Carl Sagan told his daughter? ‘Not only are you beautiful, but you also have enormous gorgeousness.’"

She stared lovingly into those eyes of his for a minute. "I can safely say I’m healed inside, honey………finally."

"I know," he said quietly, holding her gaze.

"How do you know?" It was rhetorical. Of course, he knew.

He touched her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. "It’s all over your face, Maggie…….And in the ways you move around………You’re practically weightless now, sweetheart. Ya think I don’t know you?"

"It does feel kinda like weightlessness………I wrote Sahndra a letter……a letter that cleaned my soul…….removed all the trash I was harboring and suffering for……I feel free from it all now."

"Tell me a story," he invited her gently.

"Well……..I did some deep introspection and discovered that I honestly shouldn’t be feeling as horrible as I’ve been feeling ‘bout the whole thing……..that when it actually came down to it, that wretched, pathetic Sahndra was as much or more to blame for the fiasco than I ever was. I’d been beating myself up for being mean to her when she started whoring around and becoming a lazy pig. But then I started remembering how brutally she attacked me, even using her pitiful little babbling allies, tracking me down all over town, trying to 'expose' me and turn my new acquaintances against me with her blatant lies and ranting accusations."

She paused and looked down. "I’m listening, baby," Roger said.

"It was like Earl Ray said: She was bent on hurting me as much as she could…....at whatever cost. Her cruelty towards me was far worse than anything I ever did to her. If she’d been the real, sincere friend I thought she was, she wouldn’t have stabbed me in the back and betrayed me like she did. She wouldn’t have left me behind and thrown her worthless allegiance behind someone else…….someone who’s as much of a sad, lowlife loser as Sahndra herself."

"Ah, treachery......one of the most damaging of the world's evils." Roger murmured.

"During my epiphany it dawned on me, sweetheart, that she had no taste, class, education, or substance. She was never worthy of my time to begin with. I wasted far too much worry and pain on her. And I definitely shouldn’t have been the one suffering here at the end. I shoulda just felt sorry for her fat ass and moved on immediately. Why didn’t I heed the obvious warning signals when she started giving me the creeps? When she would call me every five minutes to ask if I was mad at her and beg me to be her pal and all that silly crap? Why in the hell did I befriend her?"

"Wasn’t she after your buddy, LaMont?" He was cool and patient.

"Yeah…….That’s right. After his money, the foul, gold-digging bitch. And we all knew Scottie woulda fucked anything that moved. God rest his soul."

Roger chuckled. "Sounds like the ol’ Maggie to me……..So you sent this letter on to the Queen of the Sewer?"

"Yep. I told her I think she deserves far worse than the cruelty I every dished out to her………that she needs to wake up from her dreamworld of lies and fantasies and realize how low she’s sunk..……and that she’ll pay someday for the crap she did to me…….She always tried to portray herself as the innocent, sweet, maligned victim. Hell, she’s the most hateful, vicious person I’ve ever met. Truly loathsome. Maybe she’s paying now for her sins."

"When’s she supposed to read this masterpiece of yours, baby? In between lobotomies?" Roger pulled her back down onto him while she laughed.

"I don’t care anymore what happens to her in her miserable little existence. She’s dead as far as I’m concerned. I’ve cleansed myself of her putridness. She deserves whatever she’s left with. She made her choices."

"So you’re back on track? Moving ahead?"

"I honestly think so, Roger…….I feel better than I have in almost a year……..Unfettered and light…….I’ve restored myself. I wanna do all the things I’d lost interest in……..writing, reading, working out………taking better care of myself………..seeing goodness in things again. Thank God for the breakthrough………and thank you too for waiting for me, honey."

"Ah, I’ll always be here for ya, Maggie. You know that."

She sat up again and faced him, her eyes flashing brilliance and luster. "I also wanna use that space you bought me, Roger. I’d like to open another restaurant and feed people again."

He smiled. "You sure? That’s a big step."

"I’m ready for big steps. Got my peace of mind back. I’m taking control.....Fought my way back from the dead, ya know.....Gotta start really living again. Don’tcha think it’s about time?"

Roger searched her face and then grinned. "Okay, baby. I’m with ya. You're a survivor, ya know..........So whatcha gonna call this new birth of a restaurant, hmmm?"

"Renaissance."

"Ahh, nice. I like your style. I’m there," he assured her.

"And I can't wait to see you there, my love."