Company

"Auden?"

I jumped, then turned my head to see Maggie standing beside me. Her hair was blowing in the breeze, her bag over her shoulder. Behind her, the boardwalk was a row of lights, one right after the other.

"You okay?" she said. When I didn't respond, she added, "You seemed kind of sad when you left."

I had a flash of my mother, the dismissive way she'd looked at Maggie, the bikini bottoms, the Booty Berry [perfume], and then me, all of grouped in the category of Not to Her Liking. But it was vast, that place I'd struggled to avoid for so long, as wide and long as the beach where we were right then. And now that I finally found myself squarely in it, I realized I was kind of glad to have company.

"No," I said to her. "I don't think I am, actually."

I don't know what I expected her to do or say to this. It was all new to me, from that second on. But clearly, she'd been there before. It was obvious in the easy way she shrugged off her bag, letting it fall with a thump onto the sand, before sitting down beside me. She didn't pull me close for a big bonding hug, or offer up some saccharine words of comfort, both of which would have sent me running for sure. Instead, she gave me nothing but her company, realizing even before I did that this was, in fact, just what I needed.