Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) COMPLETE, 07/23/17

[sarammlover]

Well......hmmmm I have to say...Im a little annoyed that Sarah wants to meet Maria. I guess I can sort of get it...but not really. Leave it in the past. And you break my heart a little more wiht Tess and Kyle....I am horribly sad for them.

[April]

Carolyn:

You are an excellent story teller........holding me on the edge of my seat just wondering what will happen next.

Thanks, this is what I strive for!

Does Sarah really mean she is not jealous of Maria........?? I find that hard to believe.

She's really . . . not jealous. Sarah's just not the kind of girl to feel that way. She's very confident and secure, and she believes and trusts in what she and Michael have together.


Sara:

Well......hmmmm I have to say...Im a little annoyed that Sarah wants to meet Maria. I guess I can sort of get it...but not really. Leave it in the past.

Yeah, it might be best to leave it in the past. Or to at least try to.

And you break my heart a little more wiht Tess and Kyle....I am horribly sad for them.

I know, me, too. Their scenes were so hard to write. They went from being the happy-go-lucky golden couple to being . . . this.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!

I'm recommending "Starlight" by Muse when you see if you'd like.








Part 21








Halloween was one of Michael’s favorite holidays, so he planned to go big. Late night, probably one that just blended into an early morning. That was the plan. Because of that, he had to get as much rest as possible during the day, so he squeezed in sleep every chance he got. Including the minutes leading up to Music Appreciation.

“Wake up,” he suddenly heard right when he felt a finger flick him in the back of the head. He opened his eyes, and there was Maria, taking her seat beside him. She actually didn’t look completely annoyed to see him today, which was progress.

“Hey,” he said, moving around a bit so he wasn’t taking up so much damn space.

“So . . .” She gathered all her hair in place behind her head and held it there for a few seconds in a ponytail before releasing it all again. “I talked to Max about meeting up with you and Sarah at this party tonight, and he said he’s okay with it.”

“Really?” Dammit. There went all hope of avoiding this encounter then. He’d kind of been banking on Max being resistant to it.

“Yeah. He actually said he thinks it’s a good idea, too.” She rolled her eyes, and that made him smirk. “Anyway . . . we’ll be there. For a little while at least.”

“Great.” It wasn’t great, but . . . whatever. Hopefully Max and Maria would just make a brief appearance, and then he and Sarah could spend the rest of the night letting loose and having actual fun. And then when they got home during the wee hours of the a.m., they could really let loose and have some fun.

“What’re you gonna wear?” he asked her.

She gave him an abrupt, sharp look. “What?”

“For a costume,” he clarified, snorting. Yeah, right, like he’d really care that much about what she was wearing under normal circumstances.

“It’s a costume party?”

“Well, yeah, it’s Halloween.”

She groaned. “Great. I’ll just throw a sheet over my head and call myself a ghost.”

“Classic,” he remarked. Actually, a ghost would work. A ghost would be great. Then she and Sarah wouldn’t technically have to meet face to face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Every time Maria crossed paths with her mom, she had to force a smile and act like she wasn’t petrified to see her. “Mom.” It always came out a shaky, nervous greeting like that, though. Their relationship, having always been a rocky one, had actually been pretty decent for the past couple of years. They didn’t smother each other with close proximity anymore, which seemed to be healthier and better for both of them. And even though Amy DeLuca still got her snippy little comments in here and there, she’d lightened up a bit, and that made it easier for Maria to deal with her.

“Hi, honey.” Her mom came right inside, eyeing her outfit curiously. “You look . . . you look great.”

I look like trailer trash, Maria thought. She had on an old pair of jeans and a white tank top. But it was all part of her costume for tonight. She’d decided that if she was going to this stupid party after all, she might as well make a little bit of an effort.

“Where’s Dylan?” Amy eagerly asked.

Typical, Maria thought. Haven’t seen the woman in three months, and I don’t even get a hug. Not that she wanted one. “He’s still getting ready,” she replied, shutting the front door. “Thanks for coming. I know it was short notice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I love getting to spend time with my grandson.”

Maria pressed her lips together tightly to refrain from saying anything. She’d come to realize that, as much as her mom said things that drove her crazy, she herself tended to escalate the problem by making a big deal out of them.

“What’s he dressing up as?” Amy asked.

“Um, a football player.”

“Oh, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sure he’ll look cute.”

“He will.” Dylan always looked cute.

“Gosh, this sure is one advantage of having you guys closer to home,” Amy said, strolling around the kitchen. She did weird things like opening up the refrigerator and skimming her hands across the countertop, as though she were inspecting the place or something. “I missed out on this last year.”

“And the year before that,” Maria mumbled, “and the year before that.”

“I’m just saying, I appreciate the invite.”

“Well . . . you’re welcome.” Truth be told, though, her mom probably wouldn’t have scored an invite had they not required her babysitting services tonight. “And I appreciate you being here,” she said, genuinely meaning that. It really had been short notice, asking her to come. “Actually, I, uh . . . I was wondering if you might wanna hang around tonight for a while. With Dylan. After the trick-or-treating.”

Her mother gave her a suspicious look. “What exactly are you getting at, Maria?”

Here goes nothing. She mentally steeled herself for an onslaught of judgment. “Well, Max and I were kinda thinking we might go to this costume party later tonight.”

“What? A party?”

“Yes.” Hard as it was to remember, they were still both very young, and young people liked to go to parties. Of course that wasn’t why she was going, though. No, she would have been perfectly content to just stay home and watch Dylan crash out while digging into his candy, but . . . circumstances.

“Where is this ‘party’?” Amy asked, using air-quotes for some reason.

“Just on campus.”

“Where on campus?”

Maria sighed, well aware how irresponsible this would sound. “The Sigma Chi house.”

Her mother’s mouth gaped in disbelief. “A frat party? You want me to babysit Dylan so you can go to a frat party?”

“We got invited.”

“By some very mature and respectable frat guys, I presume.”

“No, by . . .” She put on the verbal brakes before she said too much. “A friend.”

Amy made a face. “You have a friend?”

“Yeah, don’t sound so surprised.”

“Well, I just . . . that’s good, I suppose.” Amy pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down at the table. “So what’s her name?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Your friend.”

“Oh . . .” Crap, Maria thought. Why hadn’t she just lied and said they wanted to have a date night? “Just . . .”

Much to her relief, Max came down the stairs at the exact right time, and he blurted out a name for her. “Joan. Her friend’s name is Joan.” He smiled politely and said, “Hi, Amy.”

“Hi, Max.” She got back to her feet and gave him a quick hug. “You know what? I will gladly watch Dylan tonight while you guys go to your party, just because I love spending time with him and don’t get to do it often enough.”

“Thank you,” Maria said, relieved to have that done and over with. Now she was just going to have to work up some backstory on ‘Joan’ in case her mom probed any further with the questions.

Max cleared his throat and announced, “Alright, now presenting, the star of the Houston Texans, number ninety-nine, Dylan DeLuca!” He swept his arms exaggeratedly towards the stairs, and Dylan came scampering down excitedly.

“Yay!” Amy exclaimed, clapping wildly. “Oh, look at that!”

Maria smiled adoringly. If it was possible, Dylan looked cuter than she’d even anticipated he would. He had the eye black on and everything.

“Gramma!” her son exclaimed, his face immediately lighting up with excitement when he saw her. He ran towards her, nearly tripping on his jersey, and practically pounced on her.

“Oh, sweetie!” Amy swept him up into her arms and hugged him tightly. “Look at you! You look so big and tough.”

“I am big and tough, Gramma.”

“Not too tough to give me a kiss, though, right?”

He giggled and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Oh, I didn’t think so. Give me one more.”

Maria sidled over to Max and quietly said, “Thanks for covering for me.” The only name that had been coming to her mind was Michaela, and that just would have been too damn obvious.

“No problem,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. She leaned against him, grateful that he understood why it wasn’t a good idea to tell Amy they were meeting up with Michael tonight. Unlike Max, her mother just wouldn’t understand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I’m gettin’ a lot of candy,” Dylan proclaimed as he waddled back to the sidewalk from Mrs. Murrow’s house. The woman had been surprisingly generous with the Snickers and Twix, by the looks of it.

“You gonna share?” Max asked him.

“Yeah.”

“With who.”

He pointed to Maria and Grandma Amy.

Max feigned offense. “What about me?”

Dylan grinned.

“Ah, you’ll share with me.” Max patted him on the back, and together they walked along.

Maria hung back with her mom, letting her boys have their time together. This was nice. Last year, Max had gone trick-or-treating with them, but it hadn’t been like this. At that point, Dylan had only known him to be ‘Mommy’s friend.’ Maybe he’d suspected that they were dating. But he hadn’t thought of Max as his dad.

“You know, I was skeptical at first,” Amy admitted, “but I’ve been surprised how good Max is with him. Surprised and impressed.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” Maria agreed. As skeptical as her mom had been, she’d been ten times more so. But it all seemed to be working out well.

“Alright, get ready,” she heard Max saying as he and Dylan arrived at the next house. “You got more candy coming. You want me to go up with you or you wanna do this one by yourself?”

“Mmm . . .” Dylan thought about it for a moment and decided, “You can come.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Max looked almost as excited as Dylan was as they approached the front door. “Look extra cute. That’ll get you even more candy.”

Maria folded her arms over her chest as the wind whistled past and looked at her mom, thinking that this blue and white plaid over-shirt would be the perfect addition to her lame costume tonight. “Can I borrow your shirt?” she outright asked.

“Are you cold?”

“No. Well, yeah, but I mean, when we get home.”

Her mom made a face. “Why?”

“I just need it for my costume,” she explained. “I have plenty of plaid, but none of it looks country.”

“So you’re saying I look country”

“Well, you don’t look city.”

“Oh, please,” her mom scoffed. “Roswell’s a bigger town than Carlsbad here is. If anyone looks country . . .”

“Can I borrow it or not?”

“When we get home, yes.”

Maria rolled her eyes. God, all of that bickering just over a shirt. It was ridiculous.

“Aw . . .” Amy cooed, watching as Dylan held out his little plastic pumpkin and exclaimed, “Twick or tweat!” Max stood beside him, holding his hand, his eyes on him the whole time.

“Look at that,” Amy said. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Maria smiled, feeling warmer now. It was as sweet as could be.

****

“I think he had a really fun time tonight.” Maria took one more look at her little boy, tucked securely under his Buzz Lightyear blanket, and closed the door to his bedroom, leaving it open just a crack in case he hollered for her in the night.

“Yeah, he did,” Max agreed, shuffling down the hallway with her. “He’s gonna sleep like a rock, though.”

“Yeah.” They’d gone to the Texans game, and Dylan had just about yelled his head off. He actually seemed to have a pretty good understanding of the game, though. He’d known when to cheer and when not to.

“I’m pretty relieved,” Max confessed as they made their way into the kitchen. “I halfway expected him to see me and . . . I don’t know, get panicked or something.”

“He doesn’t remember . . .” she reminded him.

“I know. But I just thought . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I was just prepared for the worst.”

“Well . . .” The worst hadn’t happened. Dylan had taken to Max really well. “He liked you.”

“Thank God.” Max actually looked a little emotional. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle it if he hadn’t.”

Maria opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water for herself, holding one up as an offer for Max, too. He shook his head to decline.

“So,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “you’re probably pretty tired, too, then.”

“Yeah,” she answered, “I kind of am.” The game had gone late, and they’d stopped for ice cream afterward. And it had taken Dylan nearly an hour to come down from that sugar high, so . . . normally they were both in bed by now.

“So you probably don’t want me to stick around,” he concluded.

She certainly didn’t want to seem rude. Besides . . . she’d had a good time tonight, too. “Oh, no, you can if you want,” she told him. “It’s just, I don’t know how entertaining I’ll be.”

He smiled. “I can go.”

“Are you sure?” She really wasn’t trying to kick him out.

“Yeah. Tonight was all about making a memory with Dylan—you know, a good one—and I did that, so . . .”

“Okay.” They’d probably do this again sometime. This or something like it. “Well . . .”

“Well . . .” he echoed. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.” She just stood there, feeling like an idiot, not sure if she was supposed to walk him out the front door or just let him see himself out or . . .

All thought suddenly vanished when he bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips, shocking the hell out of her. She was so shocked, in fact, that she couldn’t even react.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized.

She tilted her head to the side and stared at him curiously. Why would he apologize? It wasn’t like she’d pushed him away. But that was just what Max had gotten used to doing, wasn’t it? Apologizing. Making amends.

He wouldn’t look her in the eye all of a sudden. It was as if he were ashamed, like he felt bad for making a move.

Don’t feel bad, Max, she thought. You’re not bad anymore.

Surprising even herself, she moved in closer and kissed him this time. But unlike her, he was able to react. His lips brushed against hers, and his hands found her waist. And gradually, the kiss grew deeper.

****

Maria pulled herself out of her thoughts as Dylan came scurrying back towards her, holding out two hefty handfuls of sugary goodness. “Did you get more candy?” she squealed.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed.

She knelt down to inspect, make sure there were no unopened wrappers or anything of the sort. “Ooh, show me what you got.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sigma Chi was one of the nicer fraternities at NMSU, which was exactly why Sarah had chosen their Halloween party to attend. Personally, Michael would have opted for the bash at the Alpha Delta house, just because it would get wilder, but this was probably the smarter choice. The cops wouldn’t end up putting a stop to this one.

Fly was there, dressed only in his underwear and claiming it was somehow his costume. Monk was there, too, for a while, but he left shortly upon arrival and went home to chat online with . . . who the hell knew at this point. Luckily Isabel and Courtney didn’t seem to be anywhere near the premises, so Michael could avoid having both his ex-girlfriends there tonight.

“You know,” he said as he filled himself up a glass of beer from the keg, “I think this is the first college party I’ve ever gone to that I’m not stoked about.” At least he looked good, though. Cowboy costume. Got the job done every time.

“Oh, lighten up,” Sarah said, adjusting the thin wreath on top of her head, careful not to disturb the massive hairstyle she’d assembled. She’d dressed up as a Greek goddess tonight, full-length white toga and everything. She had on all this gold jewelry to go with it, and strappy gold sandals. She really did look a goddess. But then again, that was nothing new.

“I’m serious, I don’t wanna be here,” he said, sipping his drink. “We could just go home and fuck around all night.”

“Michael, it’s gonna be fun,” she insisted.

He made a face. Fun? Not exactly the word he would use for it.

“Okay, it might be a little weird at first,” she acknowledged, “but trust me, this is gonna be good for all of us.”

“I hope so.” If this turned out to be pointless, he was going to be so pissed.

“Who are you more nervous about seeing,” she asked, “Maria or Max?”

“I’m not—I’m not nervous to see either one of ‘em,” he stuttered. “I just think it’s gonna be weird.”

“Weirder than that?” she asked, pointing out Fly, who was now running all around the party with only a red plastic cup covering his junk. He was letting loose this high-pitched wail and chasing girls up and down the stairs, whirling his underwear around his head like a lasso.

“Maybe not weirder than that,” Michael said. “Just promise me you’ll hold me back if I start layin’ into Max.”

“Promise me you won’t lay into him at all.”

He groaned frustratedly. “Being mature really bites.”

She reached down and squeezed his hand with both of hers, then rose up on her tiptoes with her lips puckered for a kiss. He gave her a quick one, then took another drink.

“You wanna dance?” she asked.

He would have, just because she was such a damn good dancer, but he glanced at the front door just in time to see the gruesome twosome show up. He noticed Maria first, mostly because she was . . . dressed up as a cowgirl. Jean shorts that weren’t too short, blue plaid shirt, brown boots and a lighter brown hat.

Oh, great.

Max was right behind her, but he was just wearing a suit. He looked totally out of place and uncomfortable there, which Michael personally enjoyed.

“Is that them?” Sarah inquired.

He exhaled slowly, bracing himself for the weirdest Halloween he would ever have. “Yep.”

Maria saw him, too, and started picking her way through the crowd towards him. Max followed her like a fucking lap dog.

“She’s pretty,” Sarah said, her tone giving no indication that she was feeling insecure. Because she wasn’t. That just wasn’t Sarah.

When they were finally close enough, Maria managed a smile and a “Hey,” in greeting.

Michael just halfway nodded to reciprocate.

Sarah, ever more bubbly, exclaimed, “Hi! You must be Maria.”

“Yeah,” Maria said shakily. “Hi . . . Sarah, right?”

“Right. Nice to meet you.” She seemed to surprise Maria by giving her a quick hug, but Maria hugged her back.

Michael shot a quick glare at Max and then downed what remained of his beer. Time for a refill. The only way he was going to make it through this night was if he kept knocking back the giggle juice.

While he was bent over and refilling, he heard Max introduce himself. “Hi, Sarah. I’m Max. Good to meet you.”

Michael grunted. Yeah fucking right.

“Hi, Max,” she said politely, though he’d put her under strict orders to not bother being too friendly with him tonight.

When he stood back up straighter, he took a closer look at Max’s supposed costume, trying to figure out what the hell he’d been going for. It looked completely and utterly average to him. “What’re you supposed to be?” he demanded.

“Oh, I’m a . . . I’m a lawyer,” Max replied.

“Huh, it sure is Halloween then.” That would never happen in real life.

Maria shot him a sharp look, and Sarah of course did her best to keep things peaceful. “So, Maria . . . look at you,” she said. “Cowgirl.”

“Uh . . . yeah.” Maria glanced worriedly at Michael. “I just didn’t have anything else to wear.”

“Well, I always go as a cowboy,” he reminded her. She should have known. Jeans, white t-shirt, boots and hat. Simple and irresistible. It was his go-to Halloween look.

“Right, well, I just figured . . . Aggies. Our mascot’s a cowboy, so . . .” Maria shrugged.

“I think you look great,” Sarah chirped. “I saw a couple other girls dressed up as cowgirls, too, but it’s all, like, too revealing.” She cringed. “Yours is better.”

“Thanks.”

“And which goddess are you?” Max jumped in. “Artemis? Aphrodite?”

“No, Athena,” Sarah corrected. “Because she’s the goddess of wisdom, and I like to think I’m wise.”

“You are,” Michael assured her. Hell, the only reason why he’d agreed to this tonight was because she was so damn smart and he figured she knew what she was doing. “Sarah’s studying biochemistry. She’s gonna be a pharmacist someday.” He smirked, happy to be able to brag his girl up a bit.

“Wow,” Maria said. “That’s . . . impressive.”

“Thanks,” Sarah said. “What about you, Maria? Michael told me you’re a great singer.”

Their eyes met for a second, and Michael quickly looked away. He didn’t want Maria knowing he’d told Sarah anything about her.

“Um, well, I’m—I’m studying music right now,” she stammered, clearly more nervous than either he or Sarah was. “No solid plans.”

“That sounds so fun,” Sarah said. “I wish I could sing, but I’m completely tone-deaf.”

“Ah, that’s alright.” Michael put his arm around her shoulders and praised, “You got plenty of other talents.”

Sarah gave him a curious look, but he shrugged unapologetically. He really hadn’t meant for that to come off as sexual, but it had. Whatever. That worked for him.

“Okay, well, Maria, what do you say we go find a bathroom?” Sarah suggested. “I know everyone thinks girls always have to go in pairs, but some stereotypes are just too good to pass up.”

Maria laughed lightly, seemingly easing up a little more now. “Okay, sure.”

“Alright. Later, guys.” Sarah grabbed Maria’s hand, and like the self-confident social butterfly she was, she led her through the crowd towards the stairs, narrowly escaping being hit by Fly as he came running back down.

That left Michael standing there with Max. So naturally, he was left with no choice but to toss back the rest of his beer and refill his cup for a third time. Luckily, Max got the hint and moseyed on away.

Been a while since I’ve really been drunk, Michael thought. Somehow, this seemed like the perfect night for it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria stepped over a drunk couple making out in the middle of the upstairs hallway and followed Sarah into the bathroom. It was large and miraculously still clean, and it was quiet compared to the rest of the party.

“Oh my gosh, I hope you don’t mind,” Sarah babbled as she shut the door. “I just couldn’t even hear myself think down there, let alone carry on a conversation.”

“Yeah, it was really loud,” Maria agreed.

“And crowded,” Sarah added.

“Yeah.” Glancing at herself in the mirror, Maria couldn’t help but be self-conscious. Her costume really paled in comparison to Sarah’s. Sarah looked beautiful and flashy, but still classy. Maria felt like she looked like a hick, and that hadn’t been what she was going for. Maybe if she’d put her hair in braided pigtails, she would have looked cuter, but that had just seemed so childish.

It wouldn’t matter what she wore or how she did her hair, though, not when she was standing next to Sarah. Michael’s girlfriend was supernaturally pretty.

“Hey, so thank you so much for coming tonight,” Sarah said, twisting the ends of her long, dark hair around her finger. “I’m really happy to be able to get to know you.”

Maria considered that, not sure if it could possibly be true. “You are?” Honestly, was any girl ever really happy to be meet her boyfriend’s ex?

“Yeah. I know it’s not typical, but I really think this is more of an opportunity than anything else,” Sarah insisted.

“Uh-huh.” Maria wasn’t trying to be skeptical, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just an act. “Listen, I just—I feel like I need to apologize to you,” she blurted, needing to get this off her chest.

Sarah cocked her head to the side inquisitively. “For what?”

Maria sighed, tracing her fingers along the edge of the sink counter. “For somehow ending up in this music class with Michael.”

Sarah smiled teasingly. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause you totally had control over that.”

“Well, I should’ve made sure he told you everything sooner.”

“Because you had control over that, too.” Sarah laughed lightly. “Maria, there’s absolutely nothing you need to apologize for. And I want you to know, I’m being completely genuine when I say I wanna get to know you. I have no ulterior motive or hidden agenda. This isn’t some ‘friends close, enemies closer’ thing. I consider myself a mature adult, and that’s how I intend to go about this whole situation.”

God, she’s so . . . confident and well-spoken, Maria thought enviously. Two things I’m not. “That’s good to hear,” she said, feeling a bit more relieved now. Based on what Michael had told her about Sarah and the vibe she was getting from her, this didn’t feel like a set-up. It did feel genuine.

“Honestly, between you and me, Michael’s more nervous about all this than both of us.” Sarah smirked.

“Is he?”

“Oh, yeah. And he should be. I mean, the current girlfriend and the ex-girlfriend under one roof?” She huffed. “Any guy would be nervous. And then add in the fact that the ex-girlfriend brought her current boyfriend along . . . who used to be her ex-boyfriend . . .” She trailed off, spinning her finger around in the air as she sorted all that out. “Am I clear on that, by the way?” she asked. “Did I get that right?”

“You did.” It was easy to get confused, though. Her life was like a damn daytime soap opera. “So how much has he told you?”

Sarah shrugged. “He’s told me some stuff. Mostly about how it all ended, and why.”

Maria nodded, taking that in. “So you know . . . everything?” That meant she probably shared Michael’s opinion on Max.

“I know the basics,” Sarah said. “Really, as close as we are, though, he keeps that part of his life pretty closed off. I’m hoping that, with you around, he’ll be willing to open up some more.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Maria assured her. “It’s pretty obvious he adores you.”

Sarah smiled giddily. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. From the second I saw you guys together, I could tell how into you he is.” As juvenile as it sounded, she couldn’t help but wonder if he used to look that way with her.

“Well, I sure hope he’s into me,” Sarah said. “It’s been two years.”

I didn’t even get a year with him, Maria thought, feeling a pang in her chest. “That’s a pretty long commitment.”

“Yeah.”

Nine months. That was what she’d gotten. And they’d only been romantic for about half that time “He and I were never together that long.”

“But while you were together, it seems like it was pretty . . . intense?” Sarah remarked questioningly.

Maria almost laughed, because that was exactly the word Michael had always used. To describe himself in the bedroom, mostly. “Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”

Sarah leaned against the counter, straightening out her long, flowing dress. “I have to admit, your life seems so . . . exciting and unpredictable,” she said. “Sometimes I worry he might think I’m boring compared to you.”

“Oh, no, I’ve known you for five minutes, and I can already tell you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him,” Maria reassured her. Besides . . . her life wasn’t all that enviable.

“Thanks,” Sarah said.

Lowering her head, she mumbled, “And I’m probably the worst thing.”

“No, not at all.”

Maria knew she was being hard on herself. She hadn’t been the worst thing to happen to Michael Guerin, not by a long shot. But still . . . she hadn’t been able to give him everything he needed, either, everything he needed to move forward in life and succeed. “I was really worried about him when I left,” she admitted. “But I felt better when I found out he went to Alabama.”

“How’d you find that out?” Sarah asked.

“Well, Kyle’s injury got, like, national coverage. And in all the pictures they showed of him laying out on that field, Michael was there beside him.” She remembered seeing that on TV, and seeing it online, and feeling absolutely agonized that she couldn’t do anything about it. “I almost reached out to him when all that happened, but I thought I might do more harm than good.”

“Yeah, I think it was a pretty traumatic time,” Sarah said. “But it really forced Michael to grow up. He transferred back here just so he could help take care of Kyle. He drove him back and forth to doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. He helped him find his house and make it wheelchair accessible. He stopped playing football just so he could be there for him.”

God, I missed so much, Maria thought. In a way, she was glad she hadn’t been around, though. Knowing that Michael had done all of this . . . she would have worried about him. “Michael and Kyle have always been really close,” she said. “Is Kyle better now?”

Sarah shrugged halfheartedly. “Not really.”

Maria sighed heavily, wishing for better news. “That must be really hard on Tess.” It dawned on her, though, right after she said that, that Tess and Kyle might not even be together anymore, that perhaps this tragedy had driven them apart. “Are they . . . ?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re still together,” Sarah filled in. “Actually, Tess was the one who introduced me to Michael.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I met her at the rehab place Kyle went to—that’s where I work. And she set the two of us up on a blind date.”

“Oh, interesting.” So Tess was a Sarah fan. Of course she was. “How’d it go?”

Sarah laughed a little. “Horrible.”

“Right.” Michael had never been known to make a great first impression.

“But the second date was better. And now I’m indebted to Tess Harding for life.”

“So are you and Tess really good friends then?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sarah replied without hesitation, “she’s my best friend.”

“Oh.” Of course. Of course. “That must be really . . . nice.” Two couples, two sets of best friends . . . it was so picture-perfect.

“Yeah, it’s fun,” Sarah said. “If we could just get Kyle back on his feet, then it’d be even better.”

“Yeah.” Maria had never been close to Kyle, but she hated to think of him going through something so difficult for so long. “At least you and Michael are doing well, though.”

“Michael’s doing great,” Sarah informed her. “You should see his GPA.”

Maria felt the shock that swept across her face. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She grunted, wondering just how high it was. “Unbelievable. This is the same guy who seriously considered dropping out of high school once.”

“Thank God he didn’t.”

“Yeah, really.” She remembered when he used to come into the Crashdown and vent about school, about how much he hated all his classes and all his teachers, and how he thought it was pointless to be there. She remembered hoping and praying back then, even when she’d still barely known him, that he wouldn’t make the same mistake she had, that he’d do better. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “as crazy as it’s been seeing him again, I’m really glad to see that he did go to college and stick with it, and that he’s working hard and making something of his life.” She’d always known he had that in him. “It makes me feel really . . .” She trailed off as she searched for the right word.

“Proud,” Sarah filled in simply after a few seconds. “You’re proud of him.”

It almost seemed like too generic of a word, but that was it in a nutshell. “Yeah,” she said. “I am.” This was all she had ever wanted for him, to get out there in the world and be someone. To go somewhere in life. She couldn’t have any regrets.

“So am I,” Sarah said, giving her a knowing, friendly smile.

Maria smiled back shakily, wondering if she would ever be able to tell Michael this someday, or if she would always just have to assume that he knew.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Desperately in search of another keg, Michael wandered through the frat house with his empty cup. What the hell was wrong with these stupid frat guys? They should have known they would need more booze.

“Yo, chico.”

He stopped when he almost stepped on Fly. Naked Fly, in fact, who was sitting behind the couch with his legs sprawled straight out in front of him.

“You seen my pants?”

Michael reached over the back of the couch and picked up a pillow, dropping it onto his friend’s lap to cover him up. “I’ve seen more than I want to, Fly.”

“Heh-heh,” Fly chuckled. “I’m naked.”

“You’re drunk.” Michael’s shoulders sagged with discontent. “Why am I not drunk?” He should have been three sheets to the wind by now.

A loud voice rang out, “You must’ve inherited a high tolerance.”

Groaning, he turned around slowly, and there was Max. Quite frankly, he was pretty pissed off that the guy would even attempt to talk to him. Did he want to get his ass kicked again?

“It’s the same for me,” Max said. “I’m just like my dad. We both have to drink twice as much to be half as buzzed.”

“Oh, so you’re a druggie and an alcoholic,” Michael commented. “What a catch.”

“I’m not anything like that anymore,” Max claimed, sounding like a broken record. “Listen, Michael, I know you hate me, and I understand.”

Michael chuckled angrily. Really, he understood? Really?

“But there’s no reason to hold grudges and dwell on the past. We’re both grown men now. What do you say we start fresh?” Max held out his hand for a peaceful handshake, but Michael wanted no part of that. Shaking Max’s hand was the next step down from forgiving him, and he was nowhere close to forgiving him.

Ignoring Max’s request, Michael pushed on past him and continued his search for another keg.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

( )

Some guy Maria didn’t even know burped in her face. Right there on the stairs as they crossed paths . . . just burped in her face. Didn’t even say sorry. It was disgusting.

“Oh, gross,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face to try to fan away the fumes. Why had she come here again? Frat parties were so not her scene.

Near the bottom of the stairs, she looked over to where Michael and Sarah had been standing when she and Max had arrived. Michael was back there again, or maybe he’d never left. But he wasn’t drinking anymore. Instead, he was just standing by himself, looking at a photo of the fraternity members on the wall. But it was like he was lost in thought, though, like he wasn’t really looking at any of the guys in the photograph.

She looked around for Max, but it had gotten even more crowded in the ten or twenty minutes she’d been upstairs, and she didn’t see him. So she slipped between a girl dressed as a giant loaf of Wonder bread and a guy dressed as Aladdin and made her way over to the cowboy in the corner. “Hey,” she said just loudly enough to get his attention.

He looked at her, then behind her at the stairs, “Where’s Sarah?” he asked.

“She’s still upstairs,” she replied. “She said to tell you she’ll be down in a minute.” She’d started chatting with a gay guy from one of her chemistry classes, though. He’d been dressed as a snake charmer, with a plastic snake protruding from a very certain part of his anatomy, and Sarah had gotten a kick out of it and stopped to talk to him.

“So,” she said, testing the keg to see if there was anything left. Nope. Damn. “How crazy is it that we both went western with our costumes?”

“Pretty crazy,” he agreed, his eyes locked on the framed photo on the wall again. He only stared at it for a few seconds longer, though, before he completely turned to face her. “What happened to the ghost?”

“Turns out I only have one set of plain white sheets, and they need to be washed, so . . .” She shrugged. “Cowgirl it is.”

“Hmm.” He pointed over her shoulder to a girl who was dressed like a Playboy bunny. “See that chick? She’s gonna reverse cowgirl later.”

Maria gave him a curious look, surprised that he would say anything sexual around her tonight, even if it wasn’t directed at her. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” He snorted. “But it’s not for lack of trying.”

“Well, relax.” Tonight was a brief cameo, nothing more. Taking Dylan out had been fun but exhausting, and she was ready to go home and get some sleep. “Max and I aren’t gonna stay long.”

“Good,” he muttered. “No offense.”

“None taken.” This hadn’t exactly been her ideal Halloween, either. “So I talked to Sarah.”

“Yeah?” Automatically, he sounded interested. “What do you think?”

“I think . . . she’s probably the nicest person I’ve ever met in my life.”

He smirked. “Yeah, she gets that a lot.”

“And she seems really smart, too.”

“She is.”

As petty as it was, it would have been nice to have something bad to say about her. But there was nothing. Sarah was everything Michael had claimed she would be and more. “I really like her.”

He raised one skeptical eyebrow and asked, “Are you just saying that?”

“No, I really do.” She didn’t seem like some high-maintenance diva, and she wasn’t an airhead, and she wasn’t an obnoxious slut. She was just a real, personable, likeable girl. “You found yourself a good one.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

She rolled her eyes, groaning, “Michael . . .”

“What? I was professional . . . earlier,” he reminded her.

He had been. And that was, she supposed, a big step for him. Though if Sarah hadn’t been here, he probably wouldn’t have bitten his tongue so much. “I think I’m just gonna leave you with your beer,” she decided. It was time to find Max and leave.

She started to walk away, but he called out to her, stopping her in her tracks. “Hey, Maria.”

She turned back around slowly, thinking he was going to leave her with some parting shot about Max, some jab about how he wasn’t good enough. But much to her surprise, he asked, “How’d you do it?”

Frowning, she didn’t understand the question. “Do what?”

“Get your diploma.” He looked her right in the eye intently. “I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

She inhaled sharply, realizing in that moment that she’d been waiting for him to ask. “I didn’t,” she answered. “I studied for three months and got my GED.”

He blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know you could go to college with a GED.”

She shrugged. “Community college. I took a couple classes at one of those, and then I transferred here.”

Holding her stare, that intent look slowly morphed into a smile. “Good for you.”

She smiled back at him, trying not to look too elated. But it was really good to hear that from him. As proud as she felt of him, it was nice to know that he was proud of her, too.

Turning away from him again, but feeling proud of herself now, too, she went to go find Max.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

GED, Michael thought, smiling fondly to himself as Maria disappeared into the crowd. Of course. She’d just been out of high school too long to get a diploma, but there was nothing wrong with a GED.

He’d always known she could do it, and he was really glad she had.

When Sarah came back downstairs, he wasn’t thrilled to see the snake charmer with her. He would have kicked into jealousy mode had the snake charmer not angled his snake directly at some other guy’s ass. So he was a bun-duster. Good.

“Boyfriend!” Sarah squealed, scampering towards him. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him exaggeratedly. “How’s it goin’, pardner?” she asked in a ridiculously bad country accent.

“Mighty swell, ma’am, now that you’re here,” he played along, cringing right after he spoke. “Wait, what is that? That’s old-fashioned. I’m not that kind of cowboy.”

“What kind are you?” she asked eagerly.

“Well . . .” He put one hand around her back and held the other out to the side, clasped together with her hand, swaying side to side with her. “I’m the suave kind.”

“Oh, suave?” she teased.

“Yeah. And the wild kind.” He spun her around when she wasn’t expecting it, and when he pulled her back in, she practically collided with him. “The sexy kind.”

“Very sexy,” she agreed, snaking her arms around his waist. She moved in close to him, holding him closely, content to dance off-beat with him even though she could dance better without him.

He stroked her hair, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo, but when he looked over her shoulder, he saw Maria dancing with Max, too. They weren’t as close as he and Sarah were, but still . . . they were dancing.

She didn’t notice him watching. Max didn’t notice him watching. Sarah didn’t notice him watching. So he didn’t look away.








TBC . . .

-April

[keepsmiling7]

I love Halloween parties but that one was very weird for Maria/Max and Michael/Sarah.........exes and current girl friends.
Could it have been anymore uncomfortable to Michael?
Max and Sarah appeared to be okay with every thing.
Bet Dylan was really cute as a football player......hope he's not home getting sick on all of his candy.
Amy is very strange.......
Loved the story,
Carolyn

[fadedblue]

Life has been so busy that I tend to just read and run but I've been faithfully reading almost every week , I love how it's developing! The reason why I wanted to say something was because that Muse song has always been my unofficial Michael/Maria song (like, for years!) so I'm tickled to see it referenced in the fic!

Oh Michael, I feel like you're heading down a road of self sabotage...will you drag Maria down with you?

[sarammlover]

All I can say is wow....you have turned me OFF of a michael and maria relationship. I usually love them and yet I don't want to see them together. I am 100% in love with Michael and Sarah. Kudos to you April! Right now my name should be saramslover....ha! Anyway....glad Maria and Sarah met each other and Maria really sees what a good girl Sarah is. Too bad Michael can't (won't) let go.

[April]

Carolyn:

I love Halloween parties but that one was very weird for Maria/Max and Michael/Sarah.........exes and current girl friends.

Oh, yeah. And it was ESPECIALLY weird for Michael. All those scenes were pretty damn fun to write, though.


fadedblue: Hey there!

The reason why I wanted to say something was because that Muse song has always been my unofficial Michael/Maria song (like, for years!) so I'm tickled to see it referenced in the fic!

I spent FOREVER trying to find the perfect song for that scene before actually sitting down and writing that scene!

Oh Michael, I feel like you're heading down a road of self sabotage...will you drag Maria down with you?

There's definitely a sense that Michael is getting in a bit too deep here. Is Maria doing the same? You'll have to read on!


Sara:

All I can say is wow....you have turned me OFF of a michael and maria relationship. I usually love them and yet I don't want to see them together. I am 100% in love with Michael and Sarah. Kudos to you April! Right now my name should be saramslover....ha!

This has to be a first! But no, for real, I totally get this. There's absolutely no reason to dislike Sarah or to dislike her and Michael together, and so many reasons to like her and like her and Michael together.

Anyway....glad Maria and Sarah met each other and Maria really sees what a good girl Sarah is. Too bad Michael can't (won't) let go.

Yeah, instantly, Maria can tell how amazing Sarah is. Michael would do well to remember that.



Thanks for reading and leaving feedback! On we go!








Part 22








Trapped in the fleeting realm between sleep and consciousness, Michael kept his eyes closed as drool seeped out of his mouth. He wasn’t about to make a move to wipe it away, though. No. No movement. No sound. Just sleep. Beautiful, majestic, amazing sleep.

The second his cell phone rang, his whole body jolted, and his head started to throb. The blissful comfort of sleep snuck away from him, and all he was left with was a headache and nausea.

“Oh . . .” he groaned, digging his head into the pillow, squinting his eyes at the bright red numbers on his alarm clock. Everything was blurry. The room felt like it was spinning.

Fuck, he thought. Fuck my life. This wasn’t fair. He had a hangover? How? He hadn’t even felt drunk last night. But now here he was suffering the consequences without even getting to enjoy a second of the buzz?

His phone continued to ring as he forced his haggard body up into a sitting position. When he looked down, he was completely confused. What the hell was this? The long snake from the snake charmer’s costume was on him like a belt, jutting straight out from his crotch. “What the . . .” He tore it off, tossed it over the side of the bed, and fumbled around the mass of disarrayed sheets and covers to try to find his phone. His right hand stumbled upon it, probably just as the voicemail was about to kick on.

“What?” he barked, his voice hoarse.

“Well, good morning to you, too, son.”

Normally he’d be willing to talk to his mom no matter when she called him—unless he was in the middle of sex, of course—but today was an exception. “No,” he croaked. “Not a good morning.” Lying back down flat on his stomach, he closed his eyes again and clutched his phone right in front of his mouth. “I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“Are you sick?” his mother fretted.

“No, hungover.”

“Michael!”

“Relax, I’m twenty-one now. It’s fine.”

“Well . . .” She huffed. “I was just calling to see if you had a good Halloween, but apparently . . .”

“It was alright,” he muttered.

“I take it you and Sarah went out.”

“Yeah.” He tried to yawn, but opening his mouth that wide make him feel like the chunks were rising up, so he quickly shut it again. “I wish we would’ve just stayed in and fooled around.”

“Oh, goodness.”

“What?”

“It’s just that I don’t need to hear this. I’ve already got one grandchild on the way.”

Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant anything like that. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said softly. She must not have realized just quite how hungover he was, because she just kept talking, carrying on a conversation even though he wasn’t saying much. “Well, Tina and I had a nice time. She actually came out of her room and helped me hand out candy.”

“Cool.” He set his phone on the empty mattress space next to his pillow and got all comfy, thinking that the only logical solution to overcome this hangover was just to go back to sleep.

“Yeah. We saw the cutest little boy dressed up like Snoopy,” she kept going, unaware that he was only halfway listening now. “He looked just like you did when you were young. Except for the hair. You always had your own special kind of hair . . .”

The urge to sleep tugged at him again. Thank God.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

God, I wish I could cook, Maria thought as she hastily assembled some bologna and cheese sandwiches. Liz had stopped by with Scarlet, and her mom was still there, and Max was home from work today, and Dylan had stayed home from school with a stomach ache. So everyone was there, and it was lunchtime, so everyone was expecting food.

Her mom hung around in the kitchen with her while Max and Liz played with Scarlet and Dylan in the living room. Either Dylan hadn’t been all that sick to begin with this morning or he’d made a miraculous recovery, because he was crawling all over the floor with his little sister, helping Liz play peek-a-boo with her.

“How do you feel about that?” her mother asked.

“About what?” She swore internally when she accidentally knocked Dylan’s sandwich down onto the floor. She didn’t even have enough bread to make another one.

“Sharing Max with Liz and her daughter.”

Maria made a face and bent down to pick up the sandwich and throw it away. “I don’t ‘share’ Max,” she said. “He’s my boyfriend. But he’s Scarlet’s father, too, so he should be in her life. Obviously.” Unlike he had with Dylan, Max had never shied away from his fatherly responsibility towards Scarlet. He’d been there for her birth, cut the umbilical cord and everything. He paid child support, he played with her . . . it was like he’d learned from all the mistakes he’d made with Dylan.

“I don’t know if I’d be so okay with it,” Amy said, casting a suspicious glance back over her shoulder.

“That’s because you’re uptight,” Maria snapped. “And close-minded.”

“No, I am just cautious.”

“You’re paranoid,” Maria argued. “We’re not teenagers anymore. We can all get along and co-exist without all this drama getting in the way.”

“Well, I sure hope so.” Her mother looked into the living room again and remarked, “She’s very pretty.”

“Who, Scarlet or Liz?”

“Both, really.”

Maria raked one hand through her hair, honestly not even seeing the point of this conversation. Her mom was such a drama queen sometimes. “Well, I adore Scarlet,” she said. “And Liz is my friend.”

“Well, you’re quite the social butterfly these days, aren’t you? Friends with Liz, friends with Joan.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “If Joan even exists.”

Maria made a face. “What do you mean?” She hadn’t let anything slip. Had Max let something slip? He wouldn’t have.

“Maria, you spent the better part of your freshman year of high school lying to me,” her mom pointedly reminded her. “I can recognize it when it’s happening.”

Maria averted her eyes, knowing it was pointless to pretend that Joan was real. Her mom was annoying, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Where’d you go last night?” she questioned.

“To a party.”

“With who?”

“Max.”

“Who else?”

She whimpered instead of answering.

“So you were lying,” her mother deduced.

Great. This was just great. Now they were going to get into a fight while Liz and Scarlet were over there. Well, if it was bound to happen, the very least they could do was go into a separate room.

Maria grabbed her mom’s hand and pulled her out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into her and Max’s bedroom. She shut the door firmly and started in. “Okay, you have to promise that you won’t freak out.”

“Why? Is there something to freak out about?”

“Just—you can’t say anything or do anything when I tell you this, okay?” This was probably all in vain, but anything was worth a shot. “You just have to stand there and nod your head. Okay?”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay?” She wasn’t say anything until she had at least some little reassurance that this wouldn’t blow up into one of their classic arguments.

“Fine.”

Maria let out a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “Okay. So last night, Max and I went to the party to meet up with . . . someone. Someone you probably wouldn’t expect.”

Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “Who?”

Maria gulped, bracing herself. “Michael.”

Her mom’s facial expression didn’t change; she didn’t move. She just stood there, not saying anything, as instructed, for about ten seconds. The silence was eerie, though, and almost more uncomfortable than any yelling would have been. And then finally . . . the inevitable.

“Are you out of your mind?” her mother screeched. “What on Earth are you thinking? Why would you think that’s a good idea? Seriously, Maria!”

Here we go, she thought, trying to block as much of this out as she could and just stand there and take it. Here we go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liz didn’t want to be nosy, but it was kind of hard to ignore the loud voices coming from the closed bedroom. Angry voices. Mother/daughter voices that were . . . accustomed and resigned to fighting, it seemed.

“Honestly, Maria, I don’t know what’s wrong with you!” she heard Amy shout viciously. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head sometimes!”

“You said you were just gonna nod!” Maria yelled back.

“Oh, give me a break!”

Liz smiled nervously at Max, glad to see that Dylan was too preoccupied tickling Scarlet to be distracted by any of this. “How long is that gonna last?” she asked Max.

He, too, seemed used to it. “Could go on a while,” he said.

Liz listened a little more, surprised by what she was hearing. Unless she was hearing it wrong. “Are they fighting about . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper so that Dylan wouldn’t overhear. “Michael?”

Max nodded mutely.

Again, she listened, totally aware that she was just openly eavesdropping now, and she started to piece together what, specifically, they were fighting about. “You guys hung out with him last night?”

“Momentarily,” Max said. “Him and his girlfriend.”

That seemed . . . a little strange. “Why?”

Max shrugged flippantly. “His girlfriend wanted to meet Maria. Maria wanted me to go along.”

Awkward double date, Liz thought. But then again . . . here she was sitting in Max’s living room. And it didn’t feel awkward. So maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. “Are you okay with all this?” she asked, just in case he needed someone to talk to.

“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “But thanks for bein’ concerned.”

She’d been concerned about him for years, ever since he’d left Roswell. But ever since then, he’d given her reason to not be concerned. He’d made the right choices and gotten his life back on track. He knew what he was doing. So if he was okay with all of this, then it was fine.

“Scarlet, come here,” he said, getting down on the floor. “Come to Daddy.”

Scarlet immediately started crawling over to him, but Dylan grabbed her foot and tried to stop her. She let out a little yelp but kept going, and when she got to Max, he picked her up and rolled over onto his back, lifting her into the air. She giggled and gurgled, and Liz leaned back against the couch, content to just watch them together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael felt like a zombie, and he knew he probably looked like one, too. He’d pretty much been useless all afternoon, which was probably why Vanessa had put him back on filing duty rather than having him do anything substantial.

As the buses showed up out front and the kids piled on and left, Michael started to grow increasingly more tired. Afternoons were perfect for naps, but between school and work and his practicum, he rarely found time for a nap anymore.

“Wild night?” Vanessa remarked as she feverishly responded to emails.

“Yeah.” No harm in admitting it since it was so damn obvious.

“I’ve had a few of those,” she said.

“Really?” That surprised him. Vanessa always seemed so straight-laced.

“Oh, yeah. Anyone who works with kids on a daily basis—counselor, teacher, principal—needs to know how to unwind.”

“Huh.” He smirked, closing the filing cabinet. “That might be the greatest advice you’ve ever given me.”

“Oh, trust me, it is,” she affirmed. “After your practicum wraps up, you and your girlfriend should grab some drinks with Brody and me.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he told her, although truthfully, the idea of barhopping with his boss and practicum supervisor wasn’t the most appealing thing in the world. Any double date with them had to be better than one with Maria and Max, though. “Alright, well, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Go home. Sleep it off,” she told him.

“Yeah, right. See ya.”

“Bye.”

He grabbed his coat and headed out.

Because he’d been a little slow-moving that morning, he hadn’t gotten to the school at his usual time, and the parking lot had been full. So that meant he had to trek through the entire school building and out to the back parking lot. He didn’t normally go out that way, but today, he was glad he had, because he got to see the little guys on the school’s youth football team out on the field at practice. They were all swimming in their oversized white jersey’s, and half of them had their helmets on wrong. Michael stood there for a minute and watched them, remembering when he used to be one of them. He’d always been the distracted kid who was more intent on catching mosquitoes than listening to anything the coach had to say. Kyle, on the other hand, had always been the totally focused one.

Dylan was out there. He was wearing the number sixty-six jersey, probably only because this school didn’t let them wear sixty-nine.

So he still likes football. Michael smirked. Good.

Unfortunately, instead of doing any actual coaching, the only coach out there was yelling at his six and seven year-old players. Literally yelling, at the top of his lungs. “That’s it!” he roared, throwing his clipboard down at his feet. “You guys don’t listen! You don’t even try!” He tore his whistle from around his neck and threw it out onto the field like a child having a temper tantrum. “I’ve had it! I’ve had it with this! I’m done! I quit!”

The little boys stood there and watched helplessly as their coach stormed off the field. He stomped right past Michael, bumping into him without apology. He was really fuming, huffing and puffing and blowing smoke out of his ears. On a field full of children, he managed to seem the most childish of them all.

Michael thought about stopping him, trying to calm him down, trying to get him to understand that it wasn’t right for him to just leave all these little boys out there on the field with no idea what to do. But he was gone. High-tailed it out of there. And the boys just kept giving each other these confused looks, like they didn’t know whether to be sad or happy about this new development.

Shit, Michael thought. I gotta do something.

He scurried out onto the field just as the boys were starting to talk to each other, knowing he had to take charge of this fast to maintain—or rather create—order. “Hey, uh . . . hey, guys, come here,” he said, motioning for them to circle up. “Come here.”

Dylan smiled from ear to ear. “Micho!”

Yeah, it’s Micho, he thought, not sure what he was planning to do here. “Now, I think your coach is a little upset,” he told them calmly.

“He always yells at us,” one of the kids mumbled, hanging his head.

“Right. Well, sometimes that’s what coaches do.” It could be effective, under the right circumstances.

“He says we suck,” Dylan added.

Seriously? Michael wondered. They’re kids. “Well, he—he shouldn’t do that,” he acknowledged. “Now come on, I’m sure you guys know how to play. Why don’t you show me what you got?” He backed up from the circle a bit, waiting for them to move into position. But none of them did. Right. Kindergarteners, Michael reminded himself. First graders. He had to be more explicit in his instruction. “Line up,” he tried.

They all looked over their shoulders at the wide open field, and once again, Dylan was the mouthpiece of the group. “We don’t know where to go.”

Michael scratched his eyebrow, a bit surprised that it was now November and they still didn’t know. What kind of shoddy coaching had they received? “Okay, well, who’s quarterback?” he questioned.

A tan, dark-haired kid hesitantly raised his hand. “Me, I think.”

“You think.” Oh, this was gonna be harder than he thought. “Okay, great. It’s Luke, right?” He recognized this kid from the Circle of Friends lunches he and Vanessa set up for a couple of the school’s autistic kids.

Luke nodded.

“You go here.” Michael walked out onto the field and stood in the exact spot he wanted Luke to stand. Luke seemed nervous, but he slowly walked up and took his place.

Sensing that no one else would know what positions they were supposed to play, Michael grabbed a few kids and positioned them as an offensive line. “You guys stand in front of him, just like that.”

“Charlie snaps the ball,” Dylan informed him.

“Charlie.” Michael whirled around, coming face to face with a hefty red-headed kid who reminded him of a younger version of Ham from The Sandlot. “Are you Charlie?”

Scowling, the kid nodded.

“Alright, here you go.” Michael moved him into the center of the line and nudged the football toward him with his foot. Charlie just stared at it, so Michael bent down and picked it up for him, handing it over. “Who’s on defense?”

The kids looked at each other unsurely, as if they had no idea what defense even meant.

“Okay, uh . . . you, you.” Michael arranged the heaviest kids on the defensive line. “Definitely you.” That left only Dylan, as far as he could see. “Hey, DeLuca,” he said. “Are you our receiver?”

“Yeah!” Dylan exclaimed.

“Savage.” Hopefully all those backyard games of catch would pay off. “Alright, when Charlie snaps the ball, you’re gonna run down there and catch it alright. And our defensive guys and offensive guys are gonna square off.”

“What about me?” a high-pitched voice squeaked out.

Michael turned around and saw a kid so short and scrawny, he literally hadn’t even noticed him before. “Are you a receiver, too?” he asked.

The kid shrugged. “I guess so.”

Well, he was going to have to be. He sure as hell couldn’t go on either side of the line. “What’s your name?”

“Melvin.”

Who named their kid Melvin? It was like sentencing him to nerd-hood before he even reached puberty. “Okay, then, Melvin, you can both run down. And our quarterback here . . .” He patted Luke on the shoulder confidently. “. . . is gonna throw it to one of you. Aren’t you, Luke?”

Luke whimpered, “I’ll try.”

“Alright, let’s get set. You got this.” He clapped loudly to get them amped up and then trotted off to the side. A few of the boys had common sense enough to crouch down, but Charlie the center just stood there with the ball in his hands, staring at it as if he had no idea what to do with it.

“Set!” Michael yelled for them. They finally got the hint and all got in position. “Hike!”

It was a bad snap, needless to say, but Charlie did manage to pitch it back to Luke. Luke held onto it and ran back a bit. As the offensive guys and defensive guys unsurely pushed at each other, Luke threw a wobbly pass forward, probably intending for it to go to Dylan. Dylan had run too far down the field, though, so that left only Melvin to make the catch. Melvin didn’t make the catch. He tripped over his own shoelaces and fell flat on his face, and the ball landed three feet ahead of him.

Michael scratched the back of his neck and winced at the ugliness of it all, trying to maintain a positive tone. “That’s alright, Melvin,” he said. “Good try.”

Dylan came running back and helped Melvin up. Melvin was crying. Oh, great.

“Walk it off, Melvin,” Michael told him. “Okay, guys, bring it on in.”

Shoulders slumped, the boys trudged forward, circling up around him once again.

“That wasn’t bad,” Michael lied. “That was—that was a good start. What did you learn from that? What can we do better?”

Charlie scrunched up his face as he looked up at him. “Who are you?”

“He’s Micho,” Dylan hissed.

“I’m Mr. Guerin,” Michael replied. “I work with Ms. Whitaker.”

“He’s cool,” Dylan added, nodding emphatically.

Charlie looked him up and down, obviously unimpressed. “I don’t think he’s that cool.”

You snot-nosed little bastard, Michael thought. Even though he liked working with kids, kids like this drove him nuts. “You don’t—you don’t think I’m cool, huh?” he said, not at all offended. “Dude, I was Snowball king.”

The kids just stared at him as if that had no meaning whatsoever.

Well, clearly there was only one way to step up and prove himself to this crew. He took off his jacket and shook his arms and legs out, ready to get down to business. “Alright, Luke, I want you to throw this ball as hard as you can, as far as you can. Got it?” he instructed, taking the football from Charlie and handing it to the quarterback.

Luke nodded.

“And Charlie . . . you can try to catch me,” he halfway taunted, grinning at the obnoxious kid. “Let’s go!” He took off down the field at a steady gallop, watching over his shoulder as Luke got his fingers positioned on the pigskin, then launched it as far as his little arms would let him. It was a little underthrown, so Michael cut back in and caught it. It made a thwack sound as it hit his hands. The boys’ eyes were already big as saucers, but he wasn’t done yet. He ran it into the end zone while Charlie made a feeble attempt at chasing after him, and he spiked it down on the ground.

“Wow!” the boys said. “Whoa! Awesome!”

“Yeah! Who’s cool now, bro?” Michael called back, well aware that he had probably just looked like an NFL player in these kids’ eyes. They were all yelling and clapping and jumping up and down with excitement. “Told you,” Dylan was boasting. “Told you he was cool.”

Fuck yeah, Michael thought. It felt good to be out on a field again. “Now come on,” he blared, “let’s play some ball!”

“Yeah!” they exclaimed, rushing towards him. Even Charlie joined in.

Parents started showing up about a half an hour later. Michael waited until all the boys had been picked up, paying special attention to whether it was Maria or Max who would come to get Dylan. But as it turned out, it was neither of them. He rode home with Luke instead. All in all, every boy looked ten times more excited and animated than he had at the start of practice. It seemed like they’d all had a good time.

Even though he was supposed to have gone home, Michael headed back inside and crossed through the school again, making the trek back to the office. Vanessa was still there, still sitting at her desk, still looking at her computer screen. She looked tense, more stressed than she had when he’d left half an hour ago. “Oh, seriously . . .” she was groaning, but when she saw him, she sat up straighter and said. “Michael. I thought you left.”

“I did. Kinda.” He was probably going to be late for work at this point, but . . . oh, well. “What’s wrong?”

She ran one hand through her hair, motioning for him to the shut the door. He did, and when she spoke again, it was quietly but tensely. “The principal informed me that our pee-wee football coach just quit. He wants me—why me? I don’t know—to ask around our staff to find a replacement. I mean, I think they only have a few more games, but still . . . nobody’s gonna wanna do it. That’s why we rely on these parent volunteers.”

Looks like I walked in at the perfect time, Michael thought, offering himself up for the job without hesitation. “I’ll do it.”

She blinked in confusion. “What?”

“I was out there with ‘em just now. It was fun.”

She got up out of her chair and came around to the other side of her desk, sitting back against it. “Michael,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, “there’s no pay. And I know you’re already busy.”

“You said it’s only a couple more games, right?” He shrugged, figuring it couldn’t be too intensive. “I can do it.”

She looked hopeful she’d found her man, but still, she asked, “Are you sure you want to?”

“Yeah. You told me to step up here, remember? Besides, I like football.” And this gave him the chance to spend time with Dylan again, too, though it was probably best to leave that out.

“Okay.” Vanessa breathed a noticeable sigh of relief. “Well, thank you. That helps a lot.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask me if I’m any good?”

“At football?”

“Yeah.” He grinned smugly, waiting for her to ask.

“Michael, it’s a pee-wee league,” she said. “You don’t have to be any good at it to coach it.”

“I am, though,” he insisted. “I’m really good.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I’m not kidding. I was out on the field at the University of Alabama.” Of course, that had only been for one play, but it would’ve been more if . . . stuff hadn’t happened.

“Then you’ll be a great coach,” she proclaimed.

“Hell, yeah.” Having been away from football for a few years now, he was downright pumped to get back to it, even if it was just in a coaching capacity. “You just watch. These kids are gonna win the championship.”

“Hmm, good luck with that.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder and informed him, “They’ve lost every single game they played.” With a satisfied smirk of her own, she went back to her computer chair and sat down to continue working.

Shit, Michael thought. So the poor display of athleticism he’d seen today wasn’t just a fluke. Those kids were really as clueless as they seemed. That was okay, though, because they weren’t a lost a cause. They had potential. And Michael knew all about that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Sarah got home from work that night, Michael was practically incapacitated on the couch, struggling to stay awake. He had an icepack on his head to try to cure the hangover from hell. It was probably more of an exhaustion headache at this point, but whatever it was, it wasn’t going away. A good night’s sleep—and maybe some sex—was probably the only real cure.

“Well, well,” Sarah said, swaying towards him, “look who sobered up.”

“I didn’t even feel like I was drunk,” he complained, struggling to sit up. “I don’t know how I got so hungover.”

She sat down beside him, asking, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He removed the ice pack from his forehead, and he had a flash pop into his mind of Maria and Max, moving in time with the music, arms around each other, unaware that he even saw them. “Dancing,” he answered vaguely.

“Yeah, and then a new keg showed up, so there was more drinking,” she informed him. “Do you remember Chester flirting with you?”

Did he even know a Chester? “Who’s that?”

“The guy in my chemistry class.”

“The snake charmer?” Dots were starting to connect.

“Yeah. He was totally into you. You flirted back.”

“What?” he shrieked, mortified.

She giggled. “No, just kidding.”

“Oh, thank God.” That was a relief of epic proportions. “Shit, don’t—don’t say that. You can’t say that kind of thing to a guy.”

“Sorry,” she apologized. “You were pretty hammered, though.”

“So how’d I end up with the snake?” If he hadn’t flirted back . . .

“I took it from Chester, and I put it on you after I tucked you into bed,” she explained.

“You tucked me in?”

“Yeah, but you kept getting up and running around, and I kept having to drag you back. Like a toddler.”

“Yeah, that sounds like me.” The drunker he got, the more childish he tended to become.

“And one time you even got up and did this sexy dance.”

He grinned, leaning a little closer. “A sexy dance, huh?”

“Well, you thought it was sexy,” she clarified. “I thought it was ridiculous.”

Crash and burn, he thought. Luckily he was past the point of having to impress her. “Wow, am I a great boyfriend or what?”

“Oh, stop,” she said, hitting his shoulder playfully, “it was entertaining.”

He shook his head, not all that thrilled with the vision of himself he was getting. “I shouldn’t get that drunk around you.”

“If you can’t get that drunk around me, then who can you get that drunk around?”

“Kyle,” he answered, though he hadn’t done that for a long time. “Steve, the guys.”

“Relax, I got a good laugh out of it,” she assured him.

Well . . . no harm, no foul then. As long as she wasn’t mad and this damn hangover was better by tomorrow, then it was probably fine after all. “So you had a good time last night?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did.” She smiled fondly. “Maria gave me her number.”

“Check you out, scorin’ a chick’s number,” he teased, giving her a celebratory little fist bump.

“I know, I’m pretty much a stud.”

But if she now had Maria’s phone number, then that meant . . . Oh, fuck. “So this is gonna be, like, a continuous thing then,” he assumed. “You and Maria . . . hangin’ out.”

“I don’t know. We’ll see,” she responded casually. “We got along well. I like her. She seems really cool.”

“I think she liked you, too.”

“You think?”

He gave her a look. “Sarah, everybody likes you.”

She shook her head. “Not Annie McMullen from the fourth grade. I purposefully sabotaged her volcano project so she wouldn’t get a better grade than me. And she knew about it.”

“Wow, you’re a bitch,” he teased.

“I know.” She laughed. “Okay, no, seriously, though, if it’s too weird for you with me and Maria getting to know each other, it’s not something I have to do.”

He lay back down, figuring he’d do best to just stay the hell out of it as much as he could. “Just go for it.”

“Are you sure?”

He put his icepack back on his head. “It’s what you want.”

“What about what you want?”

He shrugged as best as he could in his horizontal position and told her, “I just wanna make you happy.”

She shifted positions and lay down on top of him, her chin pressing gently into his chest. “You do,” she reassured him. “You do make me happy.”

He moved his icepack over to the side of his head and said, “I’ll tell you what, though: If I have to play nice with Max again, I’m gonna need some more beer.” Didn’t even matter how bad the hangover was.

She laughed lightly and moved her arms around him so that she was pretty much hugging him. And like the amazing girlfriend she was, she didn’t launch into some lecture about how it would be good for him to bury the hatchet with Max and move forward. She just accepted that that would never happen and cuddled up with him instead.








TBC . . .

-April

[keepsmiling7]

just read this again........you really do write a great Michael in the hot seat.........
Of course it is well deserved.
Thanks,
Carolyn

[sarammlover]

Wow....i was thinking Kyle should come help Michael coach the peewee league....get him out of the house...involved in sports again...not a total waste of space...you know. I find this Max/Maria/Liz dynamic interesting...it will be fun to see where it goes! Great update as always April!

[April]

Carolyn:

just read this again........you really do write a great Michael in the hot seat.........
Of course it is well deserved.

Of course it is. Thanks for reading!

Sara:

Wow....i was thinking Kyle should come help Michael coach the peewee league....get him out of the house...involved in sports again...not a total waste of space...you know.

Ah, I agree. That would be a good idea, if Kyle would somehow agree to it.

I find this Max/Maria/Liz dynamic interesting...

It's been interesting to write. Max literally has children with both Liz and Maria. Yet the two girls are good friends with each other. And Max and Liz are good friends, too.


Thanks for continuing along with this story! I really appreciate it!








Part 23








Tuesday. Multiple choice & short answer. 200 points.

Michael stared at the board in horror. “What the hell is this?”

“A test,” Maria replied simply.

“Since when do we have tests in this class?”

“Since now, apparently.” She sounded completely unconcerned, naturally, because she knew stuff about music.

“This is bullshit,” he swore, halfway raising his hand in a feeble attempt to object to this injustice. But it was no use. The professor dismissed the class, and people started packing up. “We don’t even take notes. What am I supposed to study?”

“It’s a music class, Michael,” Maria reminded him. “He wants it all to be very auditory.”

“But I’m not an auditory learner. Some stuff just goes in one ear and right out the other. I’m visual.” He drew an exaggerated design in the air with his hands. “I need to see things. Or at least read ‘em. And I took notes, but I don’t even know where I put ‘em.”

She stared at him curiously for a few seconds, then bluntly asked, “How long have you been a nerd?”

“Couple years now,” he confessed, bending forward to unzip his backpack and put his computer inside. He probably shouldn’t have wasted so much class time playing Jetpack Joyride today. But he’d been under the assumption that he wouldn’t have to actually study for anything until finals.

“Well, apparently you’re still a pretty big jock, too,” she commented as people started to file out all around them. “Dylan told me about football practice.”

Michael cracked a smile. “He did, huh?”

“Yeah. He kept going on and on about how cool it was when you showed them how to catch a pass and how much everyone likes you now.”

As long as they respect me, he thought. His own experience as a very disrespectful student had taught him that it was way more important to be respected than liked.

“So are you gonna coach them now?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Their old coach—I think he was, like, that Melvin’s stepdad or something—he was an ass.”

Michael’s eyes once again drifted back to the board while she kept talking. Tuesday, he registered. Test on Tuesday. Shit, this sucked.

“Michael?” she broke into his thoughts. “Are you even listening?”

He jerked his head towards her. “What?”

She squinted her eyes at him, as if she were studying his body language or something. “You’re, like, really worked up about this test, aren’t you?” she concluded.

He tried to play it cool as he got to his feet. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re agonizing.”

“Hey, I’m not the same bottom-of-the-barrel student I was back in high school,” he pointed out, swinging his backpack up over his shoulders. “I’ve got a tradition of academic excellence to uphold here.”

“So I’ve heard.” She stood up, too, eyeballing him closely. “So how high is this GPA of yours anyway?”

Damn, it was so hard to be modest. “Pretty high.”

“What, like a 3.5?”

He snorted. “No.”

“3.4?”

“Wrong direction.”

Her eyes got a little wider. “3.6?”

He shook his head.

“Oh my god, you don’t seriously have a 4.0, do you?”

If only it weren’t for that chemistry class his freshman year, then he might have. “3.8,” he informed her.

Her eyebrows arched in astonishment. “Wow. That’s like . . . really good.”

“I know.”

“How’d that happen?”

He shrugged. “I just studied my ass off freshman year because I had nothing better to do.”

“But I thought you met Sarah that year.”

“I did, but by that point, I’d already developed . . . good habits.” He grinned like an idiot, because there had been a time—a time not really all that long ago—when he would have thought good habits were for pussies.

“You’re, like, the poster child for turning it all around,” she said.

Was he? Because she was the one who’d still made it to college after dropping out of high school. “Well, so are you.”

A subtle smile swept her face. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, looked down at the floor for a few seconds, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You know,” she said, hesitantly lifting her face to look back up at him, “I could probably help you study for this test.” A short pause later, she added, “If you want.”

He definitely needed help, though he wasn’t exactly proud to admit it. He’d dropped the ball with Music Appreciation and had neglected to take it seriously. “Yeah,” he replied, having flashbacks to his reluctant and sporadic participation in the Study Buddies tutoring program at West Roswell High.

“Do you have time today?” she asked him.

He was supposed to meet Fly for another rousing game of Frisbee. But that could wait. “Okay, sure.” For this particular test, he was in desperate need of a good study buddy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria shuffled up her flash cards, glad now that she’d taken the time to make them. Unlike Michael, she’d been in the class since the beginning, and she’d received the course syllabus and outline on day one. So she’d always known this test was coming, and she was prepared.

“What type of music was Louis Armstrong known for?” she quizzed him, covering up the answer on the back of the notecard.

“Uptown funk,” he replied jokingly. “I don’t know.”

“What kind of music have we been studying?” she hinted.

He grunted unappreciatively. “Not my kind of music.”

She moved her hand so he could see the answer on the back of the card. “So you don’t appreciate jazz then.”

“No, I appreciate grunge and metal and old school hip hop.”

“I think that’s in Music Appreciation 2,” she informed him. The courses were designed to be chronological.

“Well . . .” He stared straight at her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She shuffled through her flashcards some more, trying to locate another one that would be a knowable question. He kept watching her, though, and that in and of itself was distracting. But then he started laughing lightly to himself, trying to stifle it but not really succeeding. A couple other people sitting around the library started to shoot him annoyed looks, and one person even hissed, “Shh!”

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing. It’s just . . .” He trailed off.

“What?” she pressed.

“Well, I was just thinking about . . .” He trailed off again and started over. “When you offered to help me study, the first thing that came to mind was . . . phosphorous.” He grinned dopily.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, momentarily hiding her face with her hand. She knew instantly what he was referencing: their ridiculously unusual yet somehow effective method of studying the elements of the periodic table. For every one, he’d found some part of her body to kiss or touch that corresponded with it, started with the same letter. Phosphorous had been a highlight.

“We should not talk about that,” she decided, figuring it was inappropriate. “Ever. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, but he was still smirking. “Now you’re thinkin’ about it, too?”

“Shut up.” She tried not to smile, but . . . hell, it was a good memory. “Oh, I never thought we’d be studying for another test together.”

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he added, reaching over to take the flashcards from her.

“I never thought I’d go to college.”

He grunted, echoing, “I never thought I’d go to college, let alone do well at it.”

She wouldn’t say this to his face, but there had been a time when she’d doubted any of this was possible for him. He just hadn’t been motivated or disciplined enough. “Do you have any scholarships?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?” It was like his life was brand new or something.

“Oh, yeah. I turned down the football one, though.”

“Because of Kyle?” she guessed.

“Yeah. But I got some academic ones last year and this year.” He held up a card that said The Angry Man of Jazz on the front.

“Charles Mingus,” she responded. Even though jazz wasn’t her favorite genre, either, she knew her stuff. “It’s crazy how much has changed,” she remarked, her mind wandering from the topics they were supposed to be studying. “Crazy in a good way, though.”

He shuffled up the flashcards some more and snickered. “You should see me in my psych classes.”

“Why?”

“I’m, like, the star student.”

“Really?” Now he had to be exaggerating.

“Yeah. Everyone else hates me ‘cause I always answer all the questions.”

This coming from the guy who used to view most classes as an extended naptime? “Huh, I’d kind of like to see that.”

He thought about it for a moment, then said, “Well, you can. Come to class with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Social Psychology. It starts in twenty minutes.”

In twenty minutes, she was supposed to be going to the grocery store. And the post office. And all these other places to run all these other errands she should have run earlier. “I can’t just go sit in on some psychology class,” she said.

“Sure you can. You’ll blend right in with everyone else who has no idea what we’re talking about.”

She laughed sarcastically. “Oh, gee, thanks.”

He handed her flashcards back to her and started packing up his stuff. “Come on, it’s interesting,” he persisted, getting to his feet. “We’re talking about Bruce Jenner.”

Even though it was Maria’s full intention to decline and get on with her day, somehow, some way, she ended up in an unfamiliar lecture hall in an unfamiliar class with an unfamiliar professor. She sat with Michael and acted like she belonged there as the professor showed a quick video clip, did a brief mini-lecture, and then opened up discussion to the group.

“Based on the accumulated research we’ve read about and expert opinion we’ve heard, and based on the testimonials we’ve observed, how can we differentiate between sex and gender?”

Michael’s hand went up almost immediately.

The professor, as if he was accustomed to it, turned straight to him. “Michael.”

Michael sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “Alright, so the two terms are used interchangeably, even though they shouldn’t be. Sex is biological, it’s physiological. It has to do with chromosomal, hormonal, gonadal characteristics. But gender’s more of a societal construction of behaviors, roles, and expectations that typically adhere to the norm. But not always.”

Maria stared at him in disbelief. Who was this person? What we were these words coming out of his mouth? She’d never heard him speak so . . . intelligently.

“Typically,” the professor emphasized. “But clearly what the Jenner case is doing is shedding an incredibly bright, incredibly publicized spotlight on the atypical, the instances where sex and gender don’t quite align. Thoughts on that?”

Michael waited a few seconds this time, but when no one else raised their hand, his went up again.

“Yes, Michael,” the professor called on him.

“Well, I feel like I used to be pretty close-minded about it,” he said, “and maybe I still am. ‘cause sex is just a natural feature, so it’s really simple to use that as your one and only identifier of male or female. But if you buy into gender as its own separate concept and accept it as a—I don’t know, a culturally learned significance rather than something inherent, then you sort of have to take the full scope of masculine and feminine into account. And that’s more variable, so that makes it more complicated.”

“Complicated,” the professor echoed. “I think that’s exactly the right word to use for it.”

It all sounded complicated to Maria. Music was so much easier for her to understand.

“Thank you for sharing your opinion, Michael,” the professor said, though he was clearly looking to get more people involved. He scanned the room, asking, “Other thoughts, other ideas?”

Silence.

“Anyone else?”

Crickets.

“I suppose I could always call on people at random.” He pointed to someone a few rows back and said, “You in the blue sweatshirt. What do you think about this?”

“Hole or pole, man,” the kid replied. “That’s all it comes down to.”

Maria drifted out of the discussion, fixated on Michael instead. This was amazing. He was proving how smart he’d probably always been, living up to that potential people had always said he had.

“Star student,” she agreed. He definitely hadn’t been exaggerating.

He smirked. “Told you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Liz grimaced as she taste-tested her newest creation. It was a mixture of a couple things, and she hadn’t given a name to it . . . and now she wasn’t going to, because it tasted like crap. There, that was the name of it. Crap.

“Scarlet, Mommy screwed this one up,” she told her daughter, spitting what was in her mouth out into a napkin. Behind the counter, Scarlet looked up from the blocks she was playing with and giggled.

“It’s not funny,” Liz said. “I worked hard on this.” She winked playfully at her little girl, and that got another giggle.

The door chimed, and into the bakery walked Doug, dressed in his usual business attire.

“Hey, Doug,” she greeted, a little confused as to why he was there. She thought she’d made it pretty clear after their last date that she just didn’t see a relationship developing between the two of them, that the chemistry just wasn’t happening.

“Hey, Liz,” he returned, peeking over the counter and waving at Scarlet. “Hey, Scarlet.”

Scarlet was too busy chewing on a block now to pay him much attention.

“What’re you doing here?” Liz asked, maintaining a friendly tone. Doug was, after all, a friend. That was how they’d left it.

“I was just heading by on my way home from work,” he replied. “I just wanted to stop in so I could thank you.”

“Oh.” She frowned, confused. “For what?”

“Well, I know our dates didn’t amount to what we had hoped they would,” he acknowledged, “but it really got me thinking: You’re an amazing girl.”

Oh god, where is this going? she wondered worriedly. “Thank you.”

“I really mean it. You’re smart, talented, independent. Any man would be lucky to be with you.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she just said, “Thank you,” again.

“But if I couldn’t make it work with you, this amazing girl . . . if that chemistry just wasn’t there . . . then maybe I’m the problem.”

Her heart immediately went out to him, because she hadn’t meant for him to end up feeling bad about himself. “Oh, no, Doug, you’re great. Trust me. You’re a really great guy.”

“No, I know,” he said. “I’m just not . . . boyfriend material. That’s the problem.”

“You are, though,” she insisted. “For someone.”

“Right,” he agreed. “Just . . . not for a girl.”

She shook her head, taken aback by that. “What?” Had she really just heard that right?

“I’m gay,” he declared proudly. “That’s what I realized after my dates with you. I’m gay.”

Her mouth slowly dropped open, not because he was gay—no, with the metrosexual tendencies, that actually made sense—but because he’d only realized this after dating her. Had it really been that bad?

“So thank you,” he concluded, “for opening my eyes to myself. Now I can be who I am really am.”

“Yes.” She wasn’t quite sure how to react, but clearly he was trying to express his gratitude, so she said, “Well . . . you’re welcome.”

“I’ll stop in sometime and let you know how it’s goin’,” he told her. “Right now, I have to jet. I have my first gay date with a guy named Chester.”

“Well . . . good luck then.”

“Thanks.” He leaned in and gave her a completely platonic kiss on the cheek, then said, “Bye, Scarlet,” she left with a bounce in his step.

“Oh my god,” she managed, dumbfounded.

Seconds later, the door chimed again, and in came Alex. “Hey, do you know any good pastry shops in Carlsbad?” he teased. “I can’t seem to find one anywhere.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” She reached into the doughnut case and took out a bear claw, setting it out on the counter for him. Didn’t matter what time of day it was; Alex always loved his favorite sweet treat.

“Was that Doug walkin’ outta here?” he asked.

“Yes.” She pressed her lips together in a tight smile and revealed, “He’s gay.”

Alex made a face. “Wait, you dated a gay guy?”

“Well, I didn’t know he was gay at the time. He didn’t know, either, but apparently a couple of dates with me made him gay.”

Alex chuckled. “You didn’t make him gay. That’s not something that just kick-starts in your twenties.”

“But something about his date with me made him realize it,” she fretted. “Am I that repulsive? Are dates with me that bad?”

“Oh, don’t take it personally,” he said. “That’s not so bad. Try having a girl ask if you’re gay during the middle of a date.”

“Someone really asked you that?” How mortifying.

“Yeah. Because I wouldn’t feel her up.”

“Well, that’s just because you’re a gentlemen.” She sighed, still not entirely convinced that she hadn’t done something drastically wrong with Doug. There had to be a reason why she couldn’t make it work with anyone. She went out on dates all the time, but nothing ever stuck.

“Maybe this is a sign you’re supposed to be single for a while,” Alex suggested. “Or give it another shot with a guy like Sean.”

“Uh, no. I texted him the other day, thinking the same thing, and do you know what his response was?”

“Uh-oh.”

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through a half week’s worth of text messages to find his. “‘Sorry, can’t hook up with you now,’” she read. “‘Seeing someone else.’” As horrible as it was to admit, Sean had always sort of been her backup plan. If Doug and the other more mature guys hadn’t worked out, she figured she might as well give Sean another shot and see if he’d changed. But now it was too late for that. She was starting to feel really defeated.

“It’s okay,” Alex assured her. “Better to be on your own than with the wrong person, don’t you think?”

She stared at him intently, wondering if he was hearing himself, or if he was really thinking about the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Alex . . .”

He seemed to know that he was one to talk, because he muttered, “Yeah, I know,” and finally bit into his bear claw, as if to avoid talking about it any further.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even after the psychology class was done, Maria couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what she’d observed in there. Michael was . . . excited. Not about beer or sex or sports or any of the typical things. He was excited about his education, his future. It was really an incredible sight to see, and as proud as she’d felt of him a few days ago, she felt ten times prouder now.

“So are you impressed?” he knowingly asked as they walked down the sidewalk past the rec center.

“I am,” she openly admitted. “I really am.”

“Sometimes I feel like a different person,” he revealed.

He seemed that way sometimes, too, but other times, like today with the phosphorous mention . . . “Yeah, but you’re also still you.”

“Just the new and improved version,” he said. “Did you know I have a job now, too?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I work for housing. Not like cleanin’ toilets or anything. I’m one of the guys who sits behind the front desk.”

“Doing nothing?” she teased.

“Well, yeah, there is a lot of downtime,” he acknowledged, dissolving into a chuckle.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s just . . . last year was my first year working for housing, so I got the Outstanding New Employee award.”

“Shut up. Are you serious?”

“Yeah, so now one of my scholarships actually comes from the housing department.”

“Oh my god.” It was all just so head-spinning. “What alternate reality are we living in?”

“I don’t know, but I like it.”

Remembering one other special award he’d won, she couldn’t resist teasing, “So which was better, winning Outstanding New Employee or Snowball King?”

“Oh, Snowball King,” he answered without a moment’s hesitance. “Are you kidding?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, nothing beats Snowball King.” He hoisted his backpack higher up on his shoulders, and as he did so, the sleeves of his t-shirt moved higher upward. She couldn’t help but catch glimpse of his bare bicep . . . where her initials used to be.

“No, the employee award was pretty cool,” he went on. “Especially since I got money.”

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, wondering if she was confused? But she wasn’t. It was supposed to be on this arm.

But it wasn’t.

Although she wasn’t sure if she should say anything about it, curiosity got the best of her, and she quietly asked, “Where’s your tattoo?”

Even though there had been absolutely no segue there, he knew what she was talking about right away. “Oh, uh . . .” He slowed his pace and looked down at his bicep, then pulled his sleeve down. “I got it removed a couple summers ago.”

For some reason . . . that surprised her. “Oh.” But it really shouldn’t have. Why would he want to keep MD on his arm when they weren’t even together anymore? She pulled her shirt down further over the waistline of her jeans and asked, “Isn’t that painful?”

He shrugged. “Hurt a little, but it wasn’t bad.”

“But isn’t it expensive?”

“It was small tattoo, so . . . not really.”

“Right.” It had been small. Just a really small, really stupid thing that they’d done together.

“Maria . . .”

“Um, I have to go,” she told him abruptly, stepping in front of him. “I just remembered that I have to go to the grocery store before I go pick Dylan up today.”

“Oh. Okay.”

For some reason, she felt it necessary to add, “But I had a good time today.” It was nice to be . . . friends with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye.” She gave him a half-wave and turned, suddenly not able to get to the parking lot fast enough.

When she finally got home that night, she went in the bathroom and lifted up the back of her shirt. She had to tug down just slightly on the waistline of her jeans and twist around to see her own tattoo, the familiar MG that resided right there on the lowest part of her back. She remembered how her mom had chastised her for getting that done, because, in her words, it was “very, very permanent.”

But apparently it wasn’t. At least not for Michael.

Should I have gotten this removed? she wondered self-consciously. Should I have gotten it removed a long time ago?

Just then, the door opened, and in came Max. “Oh, sorry.” He apologized.

She quickly but nonchalantly pulled her shirt back down. Obviously Max knew that that tattoo was there, but he didn’t need to know she’d been looking at it.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just . . . have a bug bite,” she fibbed.

“Where, on your butt?”

“Yeah.” She pretended to laugh about it a little, then gave him a kiss on the cheek and slipped out of the bathroom, pulling down on her shirt further as she went.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though he heard the front door open and close, Kyle didn’t want to be disturbed. He lay still on the couch, keeping his eyes closed, hoping to just keep dozing. He heard Michael’s heavy footsteps, though, and a few seconds later, he sensed someone towering above him, casting a shadow. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

There indeed was his friend. “I need a favor.”

Do I look like I’m in any position to offer one? Kyle wondered.

Regardless of his desire to just stay right there on that couch, Kyle got up and headed out with Michael. Michael didn’t tell him where they were going, but he did take Kyle’s portable, foldable wheelchair out of the closet and load it into the trunk of his car. Kyle rode along with him without question, but the closer and closer they got to the school district, the worse feeling he got about what this favor might be. When Michael helped him into his wheelchair and pushed him through the parking lot and down a ramp onto the combined track and football field, his stomach knotted up.

“What’re we doin’ here?” he grumbled, surveying the scene. A bunch of really little kids were getting suited up for football practice.

“You’ll see.” Michael pushed his wheelchair up right to the edge of the grass and locked it into place there.

“What is this?” Kyle asked warily, though he had a feeling he already knew.

“This is the Pound Elementary youth football team,” Michael explained. “The kindergarten/first grade squad. They have a championship game in two weeks, and I’m coaching ‘em now.”

That was all good and well, but . . . “Why am I here?”

“I told you, I need a favor.” Michael pulled out a whistle from inside his shirt and blew it to get the boys attention. “Hey, guys, I wanna introduce you to someone,” he announced. “This is Kyle. He’s my best friend.”

Self-consciously, Kyle tried not to make eye contact with any single one of them. But he could feel their curious stares as they looked him over in silence. Some of them had probably never seen somebody in a wheelchair before.

At last, a familiar boy chirped, “You played with Micho.”

It didn’t take long for Kyle to recognize him, or to recognize the way he pronounced Michael’s name. That was Maria’s son. A little taller, a little older, with a little dirtier blonde hair.

“That’s right, Dylan, he did,” Michael said. “Kyle’s one of the most amazing quarterbacks you’ll ever see.”

He grunted inwardly. Not anymore.

“So I was thinkin’ maybe he could help us out,” Michael went on. “Are you guys down with that?”

More silence. Confused, thoughtful silence, because they were all probably trying to figure out how a handicapped guy could help any of them.

“Yeah!” Dylan exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. He was the only one who seemed to even buy into the possibility, probably just because he recognized him.

Michael turned back to Kyle and said, “They’re down.”

“I’m not.” Besides . . . those kids didn’t want this anyway.

“Come on, man,” Michael urged. But Kyle just glared at him, determined to take no part in this. He didn’t want to coach a bunch of kindergarteners how to play this game. He wanted to play it himself. But that would never happen, not ever again.

Disappointedly, Michael sighed. “Alright, let’s line up and run some of the plays we practiced Wednesday,” he said to the boys.

They forgot about the weird guy in the wheelchair and started to jabber amongst themselves as they shuffled into formation.

“Hey, focus,” Michael reminded them. “And amp it up, alright? I wanna see you guys play with some energy.”

Energy, Kyle thought, shifting his chair out of the locked position. Something I don’t have. He spun the wheels and turned, rolling off in the direction he had come.

“Set!” he heard Michael yell. “Hike!”

Curiosity got the best of him, and he stopped wheeling away just long enough to look back over his shoulder and watch the play unfold. It was . . . disastrous. The poor kid playing quarterback couldn’t find anyone to throw to, and he was too scared to run, so he ended up getting tackled instead. It was just a light tackle, of course, barely more than a touch. But he went down. Good for him, though, getting right back up.

“Okay,” Michael said, “Luke, I don’t want you to hold onto the ball so long. If you hold onto it that long, the defense is gonna get to you. You either gotta run or get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it?” Luke asked.

Kyle remembered what he had thought that meant back when he’d been learning. He’d assumed it was okay to throw it out of bounds, that that wouldn’t cost his team a down. His first ever game at quarterback had been a mess because of that misunderstanding.

“Michael,” he said, wheeling himself back towards the field. “I’ll work with him.”

Michael looked surprised that he had reconsidered so quickly, but glad. “Alright,” he said. “Listen, guys, Coach Kyle’s gonna take the offense and get you guys goin’, and I’m gonna work with the defense today. Okay?”

A few of the offensive kids still looked skeptical, but they nodded in understanding anyway.

“Okay,” Michael said, “we’re gonna teach you a lot.”

I’m gonna try, Kyle thought, hoping he didn’t suck at this. Not only was he disabled, but he was also out of practice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Normally, Maria wouldn’t have bothered to watch any of Dylan’s football practice. It wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, and she didn’t want to overcrowd or embarrass him by being there. But she had to admit, she was a bit intrigued to see what it would be like for him with Michael as the coach, so she got there early for once to observe how it was going.

She took a seat on the middle row of the few bleachers that were there, scanning the field for him. She saw Michael first, though—easy to spot since he was so tall and was surrounded by little kids. He was demonstrating how to tackle, and the kids around him were all listening and watching intently. He had more of their focus and attention than the old coach had ever had, even during games.

When she located Dylan, she was more than a little surprised to see him working with . . . who was that? Was that Kyle? She squinted and peered closer, barely able to believe her eyes. It was him. But he looked so different. Heavier and not so clean-shaven. And in a wheelchair. Not at all the same Kyle who used to run out on those fields and score all those touchdowns.

Oh my god, she thought, her heart going out to him. Sarah hadn’t been kidding when she said Kyle wasn’t doing better.

“Hey, Maria.”

And speaking of . . . there Sarah was. All of a sudden, she popped up right on the side of the bleachers and climbed up to sit next to Maria.

“Sarah, hi,” she returned unsurely. Oh god, did it look weird with her being here? Probably not, right? Her intentions were completely innocent; all she wanted to do was make sure Dylan was doing fine working in such close proximity with the guy he’d once thought of as his dad.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your cowgirl costume,” Sarah said.

“Yeah, same with you and Athena.” Somehow, even dressed in scrubs, though, Sarah still looked amazing. “Did you come from work?” Stupid question. Obviously she had.

“Yeah, I got off early, so I figured I’d swing by and see how Michael’s doing as a coach.”

Maria looked back out on the field at him. He was congratulating a very chubby boy on a tackle well done. “Looks like he’s doing pretty good,” she remarked. “Kyle’s here today.”

“Really?” Sarah eagerly glanced towards the other group of players, and she gasped excitedly when she saw him. “Oh my god, that’s great. This is huge,” she said. “Tess is gonna be so happy about this.”

So is he normally like a homebody now? Maria wondered. If so, that was really sad.

“Is that Dylan?” Sarah asked.

Maria watched as her son jumped as high as his stubby little legs would let him and caught a ball Kyle threw lightly. “Yeah.”

“He’s so cute!” Sarah cooed.

“Oh, and he uses that to his advantage.”

“I’ll bet.” Sarah laughed when he threw the ball back to Kyle, and Kyle reached to the right and caught it with one hand. “So cute,” she said again. “I think Michael’s really excited to get to coach him.”

“Well, Dylan’s excited to be coached by him,” Maria added. “They used to go out in the backyard all the time and just spend hours tossing the football around.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah.” She remembered sitting out there with them, just watching, worrying that maybe they were getting too attached to each other, yet adoring the fact that they were. “Dylan had no idea how to play until Michael taught him.”

“He’s a good teacher,” Sarah said.

“Yeah.” She smiled nervously, thinking back on all the dirty, naughty things Michael had taught her back in the day. But then she realized that he had probably taught Sarah all of those same things by now, and she relaxed.

Sarah watched the kids practice—or more precisely, watched her boyfriend coach—for a few more seconds, then turned directly to Maria and asked, “Hey, so, shot in the dark here, but do you and Dylan wanna come over for dinner this weekend?”

Even though she’d quickly become accustomed to this girl’s friendliness, Maria was still a little stunned by the invitation. “Oh, um . . . this—this weekend?” she stammered unsurely.

“Yeah. Oh, and Max is welcome to come, too, if he wants.”

“Over to your place. Your and Michael’s place.”

“Yeah.”

Something told her Michael was completely unaware that this conversation was even happening. He never would have been okay with that. “Oh, I don’t wanna . . . I don’t want you to have to cook some big meal,” she said, trying to politely decline.

“No, it’s no problem,” Sarah insisted. “I love cooking.”

Of course she did. Because she was the perfect girlfriend, and perfect girlfriends loved to cook. “Well, Dylan has a sleepover,” she said, “so . . .”

“Well, you and Max could still come,” Sarah pointed out.

True. They could.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah apologized suddenly. “I’m being pushy, aren’t I?”

“No. It—it’s just . . .” She didn’t want to say anything that would hurt Sarah’s feelings or make it seem like she wasn’t grateful for the dinner offer, so she settled for, “Most girls aren’t so nice to their boyfriend’s ex-girlfriends.”

“I have no reason not to be nice to you,” Sarah said simply.

And that’s all she’s trying to do, Maria reminded herself. No hidden agenda. She’s just a nice, easy-going, mature person. So maybe it was time for her to be one, too. “Okay, I’ll, uh . . . I’ll check with Max and let you know,” she said. But if Max wasn’t going, then she wasn’t going, either.

“Sounds good,” Sarah chirped, smiling that Miss America smile.

Out on the football field, Michael finally looked up and caught sight of the two of them sitting there. He stopped what he was doing and just stared at them as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

Maria just nervously smiled, but Sarah waved. Although he was clearly confused, he waved back.









TBC . . .

-April

[keepsmiling7]

Michael really did need help with his music appreciation.
Poor Liz.......what a surprise Doug delivered to her!
Now, wonder how Dylan will do with his football coach?
Thanks, Carolyn