Saudade

“Maisie!”

I don’t want to go to Quincy’s stupid engagement party. It’s not stupid, but I feel stupid, in this black dress and heels. I don’t like it. Not at all. And tonight they’re giving that documentary on jellyfish that I’ve been dying to see and I can’t record it because of course the DVR is full because Quincy insists on recording Teen Wolf even though she’s never here to watch it and could very easily watch it on Netflix or something.

I’m not feeling this party, not at all. And I would much rather stay in my room instead of go downstairs and talk to Ryan’s friends (because they’re starting with Ryan’s side) and drink and pretend I care. Because I don’t care. I really, honestly don’t and this dress keeps digging into my ribs and it’s making me dizzy. And I know that if I trip and fall in these heels (Quincy’s of course) I’m going to end up doing some serious damage.

“Maisie, come on. You look great! And I told Ryan’s friends all about you and they all want to meet you so please come out.” She wriggles her eyebrows at me. “His one friend, Luke? He’s got it going on, okay? And he’s single. Like really single. You know you want to meet him. Come on. He’s a real sweetheart.”

I roll my eyes with a sigh, following her out as she claps giddily. Do I want to meet Luke? No. Because if he’s friends with Ryan, they’re probably really similar, and I like Ryan, sure but I don’t want to date him or someone like him.

“You’re going to love him, really!”

Except I didn’t really meet him because as soon as we got to the living room, she left me for Ryan. I stood awkwardly in the dimly lit corner, playing with the hem of my dress as I forced myself not to look at my phone. No one looked at me or talked to me or even acknowledged my presence, which was honestly fine by me.

I make a face and sigh as I squeeze my way into my kitchen. I was going to eat some chips and dip, but both the chips and the dip look like they’re one of Ryan’s weird food experiments again, so I’m going to pass. Dinner at the diner down the street it is then. I’m tempted to take Frieda with me, just because I know that Ryan’s going to parade her around and I don’t want him to do that - he’s weird about dogs too - so I scoop up Frieda from her bed in my room, grab her leash, and manage to sneak out unnoticed.

Quincy is too busy showing everyone her ring and Ryan’s being all smug and posh again. Weirdo.

Frieda barks happily as we climb into my car. Even though I put her in the backseat, she scrambles to the front, tongue wagging at me happily until I roll the window down for her. She sticks her head out, paws resting on the arm rest as her tail wags quickly. We cruise down the street to the sounds of an old Strokes CD and take our time getting down to the diner. I call ahead - I’m almost positive that they’re full tonight and I don’t want to sit in a crowded dinner, all alone, and I can’t bring Frieda in with me either - and order what I usually do, a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a plate of chicken and fries, and a huge sundae for dessert, and a cherry Coke to wash it all down.

My mouth waters just thinking about it.

I roll up the windows and lock the door as I park across the street, humming softly under my breath. I pull open the door and smile. It’s warm and smells like pie and it’s loud, music and conversations buzzing around me. I love it.

“Maisie!” Tanya, one of the elderly waitresses, calls out as she balances a tray of dirty dishes on her shoulder. “Your stuff’s in the back, I’ll get it for ya in a second!”

So I stand there awkwardly in front of the old register and look around, because it should only take her a minute or so. And then of course, of course, what I should have expected to happen happened.

“M-M-Maisie?”

I stifle a groan and force myself to smile. I’ve been trying to avoid him all week but it really hasn’t worked and I should just tell him to go away, once and for all, but I can’t because I’m too nice. So I turn and dig my nails into my clutch.

“Hi, Marcel,” I say quietly, waving awkwardly. He smiles and laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You can go ahead. I’m just waiting here.”

“Oh, t-thanks.” He bites his lip. “Are you, er... uh... are you meeting s-someone?”

“No.” He nods, leaning against the counter with his wallet in his hand. “Are you having a nice weekend, then?” I should be nice, even if I don’t like him, right? His cheeks flush as he nods again.

“V-Very nice. I-I-I’m, er... I’m out with my, um... uh, my brother.” Tanya brings me my box and I pay for it with a sigh of relief because this awkward moment is finally going to end. Hopefully.

“Oh... cool, cool. So... Monday, then?” I say, tilting my head to the side.

“Yeah,” Marcel says nervously. “I’ll s-see you on Monday.”

I smile a little and hustle out with my box, trying not to shiver. Frieda all but jumps on me once I get in the car, licking my face happily. I smile and laugh, then take off for the ten minute drive back to my apartment. I’m planning on locking myself in my bedroom with my dog, and hopefully avoid meeting any of Ryan’s weird friends.

Thankfully, I make it into my room unseen.

I know that I’m happy the way I am, and I know that I’m happy for Ryan and Quincy, or at least I should be, but I don’t know why I’m so sad. Because I like my life, I like my job, and I like my dog, but I feel like something’s missing and I don’t know what.



So I ran into Maisie tonight. And it was really, really close - she almost met Harry. Almost. But then they brought her a takeout box or something and she left. And I don’t know where she was going, but it must have been somewhere nice, because she looked really pretty. Not to say that she doesn’t always look really pretty, but she looked stunning tonight. But she was sad again.

I mean, I know she doesn’t like talking to me and I really should just stop trying but I can’t because I really do like her, like, a lot, and I can’t help myself. But the point is that I know she doesn’t like talking to me because I can see it. The eye rolls, the sighs, the blank expression. She doesn’t talk to other people that way. And I know that it’s because I’m not interesting and witty like she is. But I am trying, at least.

But beneath all that, beneath her annoyance and soft sighs, there was something else. Something quiet and muted and sad, even. And I don’t know why. I mean, besides Monday, she was perfectly fine all week. She might have just been sad that it was Monday. But it was a Saturday night, she was obviously going somewhere with someone, but she was still... sad.

And I feel bad that she was so sad, and I want to ask, but I can’t.

Harry plays with the radio, drumming his hands against the dashboard happily.

I wish I could be like him. Just so carefree and full of whimsy and charm and just... the kind of guy that Maisie would like.

Because then maybe I could make her happy.

Maybe.