MAXWELL

Maxwell stared at the closed office door. He felt as though he were living a dream. Like a broken mirror, it shattered and left him feeling dazed. Air drained from his lungs, and behind his forehead, his brain pounded unmercifully. Covering his face with his hands, he sat down and sobbed.

"Claire," Maxwell muttered despairingly. "Claire."

"Come, lad," Uncle Maynard stated, squatting beside the young man. "Enough of that."

"Why didn't you help her?" the young musician implored.

Uncle Maynard pulled up another chair and sat beside Maxwell. Drawing a deep breath, he began his own story of woe.

"I began having homosexual urges when I was twelve years old. My parents were strict Catholics and didn't understand my feelings. They wanted me to go straight, but I knew I couldn't," the record producer solemnly explained. "I kept my relationships a secret, but my brother discovered me with my lover. He had more compassion than my mother and father. He helped me as best he could.

"Harry married Claire's mother, and they moved to America. Seeking an escape, I followed them with Vince," Uncle Maynard continued. "Harry was successful in his business and fronted me money to start mine. I returned to London and set up as a record producer. What was more important was my happiness with Vince. I owe my brother much gratitude."

"Under the circumstances, shouldn't you help Claire?" Maxwell asked pointedly. "If she is unhappy with this Gerald fella, doesn't she have the right to break away?"

"I have helped her as much as I could. I've given her a home and a job. I also gave her a lot of leeway with you," the Uncle remarked, sitting back in his chair. "I know talent when I see it, and you have talent, lad. Without Claire, you wouldn't have succeeded as you have.

"I kept Claire's whereabouts a secret for as long as possible. However, she's made appearances with you. She appeared in many of the promotional photos of your European tour. At the moment, they are used in America to pump up your new fan base," the record producer explained. "Naturally, Gerald noticed and, along with your parents, arrived here demanding her return. My hands were tied. I had to let her go. It's up to Claire to work her way out of this situation."

"I promised to meet her a Macys in one year," Maxwell stated, brightening. "I intend to keep that promise. I hope she does, too."

"I'm sure she will." Uncle Maynard rose and faced Maxwell. "In the meantime, you have a lot of work to do. We have to get you on the charts in America."

Although his heart ached, Maxwell put his heart and soul into his music. He arrived in Boston to a cacophony of young voices. Eager hands reached out to touch him as he passed through the airport. Finally, he heard his sister's voice above all the rest. Surrounded by security, he pushed his way through his fans and swung Mackenzie into his arms. Her legs dangled off the floor as she embraced him.

"You've grown, squirt," Maxwell exclaimed, setting her onto her feet again.

"What did you think after two years, dumb ass," his little sister exclaimed, her hands on her hips.

"That's enough of that, young lady," their father intervened. Mackenzie shot her tongue out and wiggled it.

The security team rushed the family into an airport hotel suite and guarded the door. Maxwell collapsed into a chair and let out his breath. The long flight and journey through the excited crowd exhausted him.

"All this nonsense for you?" his father asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Yeah, Dad, all this." Maxwell waved his arms to encompass the entire situation.

"What happened to that young lady you wrote us about?" his mother promptly asked.

"Gone." Maxwell snarled the one word. Claire's disappearance continued to nag at him. He didn't wish to speak about her.

His mother clamped her mouth closed and lapsed into silence. She knew better than to nag her son. Throughout the years, she became used to his stubbornness.

Maxwell made his Boston debut the following night to a sold-out crowd. He hit it big in Philadelphia, Atlanta, and Chicago. Due to his immediate success, his promoter added a Pittsburgh show to his itinerary. The whirlwind continued. Finally, he faced a teaming New York crowd at the Meadowlands.

Eagerly, Maxwell scanned the crowd, hoping to find Claire's face amongst his screaming fans. He longed to extract her from the assembly and dance with her on stage. Memories of past shows tumbled into his mind. He longed to do it again—to go back and repeat those happy days. Without Claire, Maxwell went through the motions. Nothing seemed real.

The songs on his next album held a melancholy feel. Maxwell wrote of unrequited love and sudden breakups. Soulfully, he crooned his heartbreak and sorrow into the microphone. His image shifted from sultry and sexy to a desperate and brokenhearted aspect. His supporters understood and embraced him.

Spring never sprung for Maxwell. His soul remained snowed under with winter thoughts. Every day, he thought about Claire and missed her. Casting his eyes around every gathering he attended, he wished to find her. Although she never appeared, he continued to hope. November seemed far away.

Maxwell clung to the phrase Meet Me at Macy's. Day by day, it kept him going. Eventually, he knew he had to do something with those four poignant words. The new song came to him quickly. Staying up late into the night, he wrote of all his frustrations, the sudden disappearance of his one true love, and his pent-up heartbreak.

"Fabulous," Uncle Maynard exclaimed when he heard the tune for the first time. "It's your best song. It'll make the top of the charts, no doubt about it."

Mackenzie played the record for her friends in August before its release. Her teenage friends loved it. Beaming proudly, Maxwell embraced his sister and called her his number-one fan.

"I love it, Max," his sixteen-year-old sister exclaimed, kissing him heartily. "I love you!"

"Love you right back, Mackie," Maxwell countered, embracing her tightly.

"How 'bout we hit the road together." Mackenzie grinned mischievously. "Maxie and Mackie—together at last."

Maxwell scowled, then pouted. His sister reminded him why he hated the names 'Maxie' and 'Mackie.' Years ago, when the siblings were small, their Great Aunt Mildred had knitted sweaters with nicknames emblazoned on the front. The first time he wore his to school, other students teased him unmercifully. From then on, he hated the shorter versions of his name.

"Maxwell and Mackenzie will do just fine," he snarled sharply.

"Have it your way," his sister responded, giggling. "I still love you, fathead."

******

"You're appearing in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade," Uncle Maynard announced after Maxwell's song topped the charts. "Special request, lad. They love your song."

"But...uh," Maxwell stammered, dumbfounded.

"No, but...uh, about it," the record producer exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "You're a headliner, lad. Millions of young girls are dying to see you perform. And you will perform, no doubt about it."

Although thrilled by his fans' excitement, Maxwell knew there was only one person he wanted to see at Macy's on Thanksgiving Day. He started to mention Claire to Uncle Maynard but stopped him. Her Uncle always cut him short when he mentioned her name.

For all Maxwell knew, Claire could have reconciled with her husband. She could have forgotten all about him. As Thanksgiving approached, he began to grow nervous. Anxiety filled him, and he blanked on his song's words. Then he remembered he was supposed to lip-sync.

When the big day finally arrived, Maxwell climbed into the turkey float. The day was cold and crisp but not freezing. When he reached Herald Square, he performed to a cheering crowd, but his eyes constantly scanned the crowd for Claire. For a moment, he believed he noticed her. His heart pounding in wild expectation, he memorized the location.

Pulling his coat hood up and wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck, Maxwell donned a pair of dark sunglasses. He hoped no one would recognize him as he returned to Macy's. Holding his head down, he pushed through the departing crowd and found the spot where he thought he saw Claire. She was not there.

Frantically, Maxwell searched for her. He approached several similar women, but none were Claire. After a while, the street emptied, leaving him alone. The street cleaners appeared, pushing their brooms. Finally, bowing his head sorrowfully, Maxwell returned to his hotel suite.