Becoming Maggie

By Sarah J Faulkner

Sassy and sexy, Becoming Maggie dares to ask the big questions: Can dying your hair add color to a drab and dingy world? Can a new look really give you a new outlook? If all the details of your life changed, could you find the strength and courage to change your own heart? And the most important question of all: Can changing your underwear really change your life?
Maggie Knight's friends love her, no doubt. But she's been in a slump of depression for so long, they're really starting to worry. Something has got to be done! She's gotten so passive that when they stage an intervention of epic proportions, all she can do is complain and comply. In the beginning, anyway. But as she gets a new wardrobe, a new hair color, even a new home and job all the way across the country, something inside her starts coming to life. Is she going to fight her friends or herself? Might their interference really be an opportunity? Could she ... could she have fun with it all? Maybe, just maybe, she could start to do things a little differently. Okay, a lot differently. Maybe it's time she figured out for herself whether change happens from the outside in, or from the inside out. Or perhaps a little of both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah J Faulkner
• Release date: May 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311122209

Sarah J Faulkner

Sarah J. Faulkner has worked with sheep, at a newspaper, and selling everything from clothing to musical instruments, custom-made canvas bags and recreational vehicles. She has been a picture framer, a house painter, a vocal performer and a massage therapist. And she's a writer. Or, perhaps more accurately, she loves to go along for the ride when a story is using her to get itself written.

Book preview

Becoming Maggie

Books by Sarah J. Faulkner

Left Turn at Cloud 9

Becoming Maggie

Deeper than the Deep Blue Sea

Becoming Maggie

Sarah J. Faulkner

Becoming Maggie

Copyright © 2014, 2016 by Sarah J. Faulkner. Previously published in 2014 as How to Be a Redhead.

ISBN 978-1-53088-528-2

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Ciara Vierk

Cover photography © 2016 by Sarah Faulkner

Never forget: you are always responsible for your own good time.

Maggie Rose Knight

Chapter One

I never meant to be a redhead.

But after an initial, challenging adjustment period following Jen’s latest little trick, I have to admit that I would never go back to brown.

It all started after my twenty-year marriage had died a slow and grueling death by boredom. Jen went with me to the courthouse, for the final period on that far-too-long sentence. On the way there, she came up with this suggestion: Sugar, she said (for some reason I’ve never understood, Jen just loves to call me Sugar), You know, you can take back your maiden name for free today. I think you should do it.

What? What are you talking about?

You can change your name back to Knight; kind of a symbol that you’re starting new again.

It was rather a stunning idea. I’d been Margaret Day for 20 years. Back in the early days, it had been the big joke, me going from Knight to Day the way I did. I don’t know, Jen, I’ve been Day for almost half my life.

I know. And look where it’s gotten you.

She had a point there. I thought about asking her why she had to spring it on me at the last possible moment, but what was the use of that? It was Jen’s way. She kept quiet then, an old ploy of hers from way back, something along the thought lines of, Whoever talks first loses. I have to admit it’s always been very effective when used on me.

This time was no exception. By the time I stood before the judge, I’d decided. I was able to remember, barely, that girl I’d been, and it seemed to me she’d been a lot happier than this wan woman I’d become. And did I really want to carry around his name forever? It wasn’t like he was a bad guy or anything . . . but still. And anyway, I’d always liked the name Knight. I came from good stock. My parents had been good, supportive people . . . well, most of the time. But still, the name had served me well before, and anyway, what the hell. Maybe it was the kind of symbol I needed, a sort of declaration to self that things would be different for me now. I truly did need a day and night kind of change in my life.

When we came back out, Jen was ecstatic. Hooray! she crowed, I’ve got my Maggie Rose Knight back! (Jen is also one of only three people who ever called me Maggie. But then, she’s always been funny about names.)

I just slanted a look at her. I didn’t feel like crowing. Once upon a time, Ted and I had really loved each other. Once upon a time, we’d had hopes and dreams and fun. We used to laugh all the time, if I remembered right. Where did those days go? Now he didn’t even care enough to come by for the funeral, to pay his last respects as our marriage was laid to rest. I guess I wouldn’t have gone either, if I hadn’t had to sign those papers.

Jen had been right about one thing. Way down in my soul, I did feel a tiny stirring, a little bit of a thrill. One hour ago, I’d been a sad married woman named Margaret Day. Now, according to the laws of Michigan and the United States of America and, oh, yeah, Jen, I was Margaret Rose Knight: Maggie Knight had returned.

But what now?

After that less than earth-shattering day, my life had settled into a routine. I had been working as a house painter, work that I was good at and that I really liked, though with the same sort of detached emotion that I’d felt toward everything in those days. Now I focused on getting through the days, always eager for overtime. After work I’d head home to my little apartment, make a microwave dinner or canned soup, and settle in with a book: quiet, quiet, quiet. If I’d allowed myself to think about it, I might have noticed that my life seemed remarkably similar to what it had been when I was married, just in a smaller home, with one less body and no TV chattering constantly in the background.

Jen noticed. She did her level best to bring it to my attention, to goad me into uncurling myself from the couch and going out, anywhere, anytime. I got better and better at ignoring her, at crawling inside my books and leaving real life outside my door.

I should have known Jen would not let this state of affairs continue. Sooner or later, she would be moved to action. And when that day came, oh, lordy, I’d better watch out.

So here’s where I tell you about Jen, and Katie, and our long and glorious friendship. We met in the third grade, when her family moved into my neighborhood. It was midway through the school year—always a bad time to be the new kid in school. The first thing I knew about any new kids was during lunchtime recess. I’d been to a dentist appointment that morning, and I came back just before the bell. There was a crowd of kids off in a corner of the playground, far away from that day’s playground monitor, and I headed on over to see what was up.

There in the middle of a grade-school mob was a skinny little kid, body tensed and bowed in a scared, animal stance. Mad Mary Mitchell was pushing at her, shoving pale, paddle-like hands against those scrawny shoulders. Not so tough when yer by yerself, are ya, twinny? she was saying, or some such nonsense. I didn’t know what was going on, but one thing I did know. You don’t surround a new kid and start pushing her around. I was the new kid in first grade, and I remembered what it was like. Plus, I had my own issues with Mad Mary. Usually I just stuffed all that inside and tried not to let it bother me. But there was no way I was going to stand aside while she picked on a new kid. I almost felt myself grow to twice my normal size (which wasn’t very big, actually) until, for the first time in my life, I was just way bigger than Mad Mary. I shoved my way into the circle and pushed in between her and the new kid and stuck my face right up into Mad Mary’s and said something really brilliant like, Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you big bully?

Not the most original line in the world, but there must have been something new and different in the way I said it, because for the first time in the history of the world, Mad Mary shrank back. She seemed to shrivel into herself a little, in spite of the gasp that went up around the circle. I saw that hesitation, and I pushed my advantage, stepping into her space even closer, stretching up on my toes to get eye to eye. I remember thinking that I needed to make my face look really scary, because my mind had just caught up with my behavior and was yelling in my head, Are you CRAZY???

Mad Mary just deflated though, just like that, right then and there. The voice in my head shut right up, astonished, I can tell you that. The crowd parted, in total shock, as she dropped her head down, avoided everyone’s looks of surprise, and ambled off like a stunned grizzly. I watched her go, working hard to keep my own jaw off the blacktop. Then I turned around to the new kid.

And saw double.

Somehow, while my back was turned, that skinny little kid had turned into two skinny little kids, and they were both wearing the hugest grins I’d ever seen. I guess I’d defended one (turned out to be Katie) while her sister was in the bathroom. Katie was sure enough grateful that I stood up for her, but her sister Jen took it all out of proportion. I’d stood in her place and taken care of her little sister (littler by 11 minutes 37 seconds, and one-eighth of an inch), her responsibility. I was Jen’s new all-time bestest and second most favoritest person in the whole darn world. And if that’s what it was for Jen, well then, that’s what it was for Katie, too.

From then on, we were a gang. Turned out they had just moved in around the corner from my house. The thing is, they were way cooler than I was. In the first place, they were identical twins, so close alike that I think sometimes even they didn’t know which was which. They shared two brains like one, so they had double the capacity for thinking up all kinds of mischief for us to get into. And they were really creative, always making up crazy games like Freezer Burn Frisbee and Red Sock Rain Days, games far too complex for any adult human being to ever understand. They had the craziest giggles; Jen’s was a little bit lower, and when those two started giggling, it would run and ripple up and down the scale like bubbles on drugs, until anyone within hearing distance was collapsed and gasping from laughing so hard.

In fact, that’s pretty much how we spent our days together for the first five or eight years or so: collapsed and laughing. Never in the history of mankind were there ever any better friends than me and Jen and Katie. And even after an earthshaking fight—and there were plenty of those—we’d just patch it up, and get on with Tempera Paint Tag or Bedtime Bail-Out.

Of course, being identical twins and full of mischief, Jen and Katie played all the standard switch-a-twin games, too. Most of the time their parents could tell them apart. And usually their little brother Kenny could (though it was hard to tell with Kenny, who was pretty much always in his own little world, with its own language and rules and games). But I’m pretty sure that out of everybody in the whole world, I was the only one who could always, always, always tell them apart. One thing they loved to do was try—so very hard!—to fool me. And I used to love right back to act like I was fooled. But the thing is, they each had a look in their eyes that could not be disguised. Katie was trusting, with a soft innocence, believing the best of everyone (except, of course, Mad Mary), and that gave her a kindness that showed in her eyes. And Jen . . . well, Jen had a zest for life in all its silliness and mystery that made her eyes dance like sun through rain. Jen’s eyes also had a sliver of flint, and when she got an idea stuck in her head, that sliver shone out hard and pure. Katie’s gentle eyes never had a speck of hardness in them. I never told the secret for telling them apart, but that’s it right there. It’s all in the eyes.

Life got even more fun when we quit thinking about boys as Things to Kick. Between the three of us, we had every male head in the eighth grade spinning. Katie and Jen got to be about 5'7 tall, and had silky smooth, almost black hair. They had long, thick, black eyelashes and truly hazel eyes. They had that infectious giggle. They drove the boys wild. I wasn’t nearly so dramatic: crazy curly dark brown hair, and a trim little 5'4 figure. But I guess my deep blue eyes could do their own shining, and when I smiled, so I’d been told, it was like a blast of something yummy. Best of all, none of us took any of it seriously; we just played and had fun and made those boys dance.

Then came ninth grade, and the big move to the high school. Suddenly, a change was in the air. Jen took one look at Shawn McGregor, a tall, handsome eleventh grader, and it was all over for her. She went from total sass and play with all the boys to completely serious about one guy and one guy only. Let’s just say she still led him on a chase of epic proportions, but the outcome had been assured long before he even knew the game was on. And Jen was absolutely incredible; she never lost sight of herself, not once. She never became all about Shawn, never made him the king. She didn’t stop hanging with us and our other friends, or commit any of the other nonsense so common among girls when boys get involved. But for all that, after her eyes landed on Shawn, she never once took them off.

Katie and me, well, it was a different story for us. We kept up the games and the fun, and never took it too seriously. Okay, yeah, maybe once or twice I thought I might have a broken heart, but a night out with the girls always convinced me it was just a little crack, easily mended.

But more changes, bigger and badder, were on the way. The summer after sophomore year, when Jen and Shawn had been a steady item for over a year, Jen and Katie’s dad got transferred to California. All of a sudden, the good times were over. They had to move, breaking Jen’s heart, and Shawn’s heart. And my heart. What would I do without Jen and Katie? We all had been inseparable since the third grade. We could barely remember a time when we weren’t at each other’s houses, in each other’s rooms, sleeping over, hanging out. And now, everything was going to be different for us all.

Honestly, I thought Jen would find a way to stay behind. Much as I knew she loved me and didn’t want to leave me, I also knew that it was Shawn who had her heart now. And even though she would still and always have Katie, that wasn’t going to be enough for her either. As I said, once she met Shawn, there was simply no one and nothing else for her.

The last two years of high school were awful. I might as well have been the new kid all over again. Sure, I still had Mom and Dad and all the familiar places I was used to. But I’d lost my second Mom and Dad, my two best friends, closer than most sisters would ever be, and even that ratty little Kenny, the closest thing to a brother I’d ever known. I just couldn’t seem to come to grips with all that loss, and I lost interest in everything else. We wrote long letters back and forth, but Jen and Katie at least had each other. I felt like I had no one.

Shawn and I kept pretty close. He had no interest in other girls, and I was too depressed to do much dating, so we hung out a lot. Even though he was in college by then, he took me to my prom, but it really wasn’t much fun for either of us. Without Jen and Katie, the light had gone out.

I sprawled in bed, half listening to the early morning cheeping of birds outside my window. It was my eighteenth birthday, and I really didn’t even want to get out of bed. It had been a long, lonesome summer. I was scheduled to start classes at the local community college in a few days. Today was really just another day, and the last thing I wanted was another day. Ugh.

Suddenly, BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!!! It sounded like a bison herd was roaring up the stairs, pounding a thousand times on each tread, shaking the house and rattling the windows. I jumped up off the bed just as my bedroom door flew open, and OH MY GAAAAAAWD!

Maggie Rose! Maggie Rose! HHAAPPYY BBIIRRTTHHDDAAYY!!! two voices yelled together.

Katie! Jen! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?! I can’t believe it! This is so GREAT!

I hadn’t seen them in almost two years, since the Thanksgiving after they’d moved when I’d used up my life’s savings to visit them in California. Now here they were; I couldn’t believe it! I was so excited that it actually took me a minute or so to sort out which was who—they were both shining so brightly, and my eyes were blurred by happy tears.

They looked amazing. Jen had her black hair cut short and sassy, sticking out from her head in a funky, wind-blasted look. She wore no makeup, tight, hip-hugging blue jean shorts and a snug tank top sporting every color of the rainbow. Katie’s hair was smoothed back in a high pony tail, and she wore light, subtle makeup, khaki tailored shorts and a crisp white sleeveless blouse. They were still twins, for sure, but each had grown into her own individual sense of style. It was amazing seeing them again.

And as if them being there for my birthday wasn’t enough, they had news I could have never imagined.

Guess what guess what guess what! Jen crowed, bouncing up and down on my bed. I glanced from her to Katie, caught by the wistful look on Katie’s face. I looked back into Jen’s excitement.

What?

I’m moving back!

WHAT?! I could not believe my ears. You are? Since when? Did your dad get transferred again?

There was a little silence. Jen was still bouncing a little as she sat, but it was clearly not all completely wonderful after all.

What’s going on? I asked slowly, looking back and forth between them.

Katie answered. No, Dad didn’t get transferred back. Just Jen is moving.

I whipped my head back toward Jen. WHAT?! I said again, shocked. Just Jen? I looked back at Katie, and her face answered my next question: Not you, too?

She wordlessly shook her head.

Jen took up the story. It’s already all arranged with your folks. I’m going to stay here with you!

I had a major war going on in my chest. I couldn’t believe the incredible luck. Jen was moving back; Jen was moving in with ME! But at the same time, it seemed impossible. Leave her twin? Leave Katie? I could tell that Jen was trying to tamp down her excitement while she fought the pain she knew was coming. And Katie was trying so hard to be happy at Jen’s excitement, but clearly her heart was breaking. I did not know how to respond.

I sat down beside Jen and reached for Katie’s hand, pulling