Free Make them Cry by Keven O’Brien Page A

didn’t,” Jack murmured. He opened the door, then handed the key back to her.
    “I taught him to swim when he was five,” she continued. “You should should have seen him at the beach. They had the wading area roped off for the kids. And every time Johnny went beyond those ropes, the lifeguards would call to him on the bullhorn, and make him take a swim test. He’d always pass, then race out to the raft. I can still see him, the smallest kid out there, so skinny in his big purple trunks….”
    Tears began to fill her eyes. “Oh, damn it,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to do this in front of you.” She retreated into the room, then found the bathroom, where she switched on the light. She plucked a few tissues from the dispenser on the sink counter. “I’m sorry,” she said into a wad of Kleenex. “There’s nothing worse than someone who’s drunk and weepy.”
    “It’s all right,” Jack said, standing at her threshold.
    Maggie leaned against the door frame. “I used to live my life for my family,” she said, her voice quivering. “Now, I feel like an outsider with my sisters. And Johnny’s gone. How do you keep going when you’ve lost everyone dear to you?”
    Jack didn’t know how to answer her, beyond the usual priestly jargon about time and faith.
    “How did you do it?” she asked. “Johnny told me how you lost your wife and son. How did you go on?”
    “I almost didn’t,” Jack admitted. “But I hung in there. Different people helped me out, one old friend in particular.”
    She gave him a wary sidelong glance and let out a sad little laugh. “You mean God?”
    He managed to smile. “Well, being a priest, I guess that should have been my standard answer.”
    “Thank you, Jack,” she said. “For not giving me the standard answer. If you cannot be a priest for just one more minute, I want to ask you something.” Her voice started to shake. “Do you hurt as much as I do? Do you miss Johnny, too?”
    “Yes, Maggie,” he whispered. “I miss him very much.”
    Maggie wrapped her arms around him. Jack felt her warm, wet tears along the side of his neck. He wanted to hold her and stroke her hair. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even let himself step inside that room with her.
    Maggie kissed his cheek. Then her moist lips slid over to his mouth. Her body trembled against his.
    He started to pull back. But she held on to him tighter, until Jack had to wrest away from her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
    She started crying again. “Can’t you just hold me for a little while? Even if you don’t like me? I feel so alone, please—”
    He shook his head. “No, Maggie,” he muttered, aching with regret.
    She let out a bitter laugh, and wiped her tears away. “That’s fine, don’t worry, Father .” Maggie staggered toward the bed and sat down. “I’m drunk,” she announced, prying off her shoes. “I’m drunk. It’s the prize excuse for everything. Forgive me, Father, for I have drunk. Do you forgive me?”
    “Yes, of course,” he muttered.
    “Good. You’ve done you’re priestly duty. Now, why don’t you get the hell out of here?”
    “Good night,” Jack said. Stepping back, he gently closed the door. He could hear her crying on the other side.
     
    Maggie suddenly woke up, not knowing where she was. She couldn’t see a thing, except for a crack of moonlight peeking between a set of closed curtains. Everything else was pitch-black. She had no idea of the time either. For a moment, the only thing she felt sure about was the presence of someone else in the dark room.
    Lying still beneath the covers, Maggie was afraid to move. She didn’t want the intruder to know she was awake and onto him. Her head throbbed, and her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow. She had to go to the bathroom, too. Yet she didn’t budge.
    She remembered drinking an awful lot, and embarrassing herself with Jack Murphy. He’d taken her to this room at the Lakeside Inn. She hadn’t locked up