these interesting, cool men with excellent musical taste into marriage and child rearing and now the men have this opportunity to feel a bit of sunshine on their necks. Maggie is the sun, Aaron is the moon, and Marie is Saturn, ever orbiting, ever home, ever watching. The most important thing is that he doesn’t love her anymore. He doesn’t think she loves him either; he found her email open a few years ago and she had been chatting inappropriately with a colleague. But Aaron didn’t care. To each Marie her own. But still, she’s vigilant. Maggie knows that women like her are watchful because they wish to protect their routines, two incomes and two parents for two children and the platinum-level Costco membership.
Anyhow, it’s not so much on account of Marie but rather because of the children that he doesn’t want this to get physical. That, and Maggie’s age. But Maggie would say they are officially together, have been since the night they said they had feelings for each other. They are officially together, though they are only just talking. It’s like an ex telling you he is “talking” to someone new: you are aware that he means he has not slept with the new person, but if you are wise, you know the talking is deeper. Talking means there is going to be a relationship. She will be meeting his parents and giving them scarves on Christmas Eve.
Maggie and Aaron talk all the time. All day long there is texting and later in the evening after the kids and Marie are in bed there is talking on the phone. They talk like friends, like lovers, about what’s going on in their lives. What shows did you watch last night. Who said what during which class. Do you get nervous on airplanes, like me.
But, of course, there are boundaries. Aaron has two kids at this time. Maggie has so much experience with kids. She is the favorite aunt, after all. But Maggie knows there is a whole off-limits sector—Marie and the kids. Basically everything that happens after his clean teacher car pulls into his tidy, bright garage is off-limits to her.
But West Fargo High is their amusement park. His classroom is the Master Blaster Epic Plunge Waterslide, the publications room is the Bareknuckle White Water Wahoo. Nothing physical has happened, but the close talking and the secret looks are building their story. He is rendering everyone else in her life useless. Sammy is Maggie’s best friend, but in order for the title to mean anything, you have to tell your best friend everything. And Maggie can’t do that anymore. She learns there are things you can’t talk about. You cannot say, for example, that you are dating your teacher.
Children like rules and Aaron gives Maggie some, the most important of which is that she is not to text first. Under no circumstances may she make the first move. This is important for the preservation of the relationship.
Maggie wants to do everything to preserve the relationship. She feels it’s up to her. She tries not to tempt him. To remind him of his badness. To remind him she’s underage. It is her job to be fun, friendly, happy, and also troubled enough by her parents’ alcoholism that he can be a savior—over text or voice, whichever is more manageable that day.
The biggest problem Maggie faces, bigger than her parents’ drinking, is the roller coaster—the Canyon Boomerang Blaster—that Aaron keeps her on. Sometimes he gets spooked and says they shouldn’t talk. Within hours he changes his mind. Thank God, he changes his mind. She doesn’t know what, exactly, it is, but she feels it’s something that comes from deep inside her, a fairy sweetness she can’t see.
The roller coaster is an extension of what he did to her in Colorado. He pushes her away and then pulls her back. He picks her up and then drops her to hell. She feels like a bounced thing. She feels she can never catch her breath. She doesn’t know what each new day might bring. At the same time, she understands that this feeling is normal. It’s particular to this type of forbidden love. It reminds her of the vampire in Twilight, which is her favorite book. He wants to love her or else he wants to kill her. Minute to minute, she can’t be sure which instinct will prevail.
Deeper into January, the slightest of shifts surprises her. At first, it’s barely perceptible. Her