Max was really disappointed that Dylan didn't take to basketball,
Then Dylan announces that he likes football better. I feel problems coming on here.
So Alex and Leanna are splitsville......
I thought it was a good sign that Kyle and Tess were going out.......but she can't drink and he can't dance. What fun is that??
So glad Liz made it out for a night out.
This is a most unusual group to hang out........just waiting for the explosion!
Thanks,
Carolyn
Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) COMPLETE, 07/23/17
Moderators: Anniepoo98, Rowedog, ISLANDGIRL5, Itzstacie, truelovepooh, FSU/MSW-94, Erina, Hunter, Forum Moderators
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keepsmiling7
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sarammlover
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 37, 08/28/16
Maybe just maybe Isabel can and will turn a new leaf?? And I appreciate Kyle's effort in taking Tess out but I see where she is coming from. Maybe dinner next time. Or bowling...you know, something that isn't a bar.
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April
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Part 38
Carolyn:
Sara:
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Today's update is a little lengthier, as I couldn't find a good place to end it.
Part 38
By the time they got home that night, Maria wasn’t walking so much as she was dragging. She slumped against Max, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other, and he kept one arm tightly wrapped around her waist just in case her limbs gave out on her.
“You hit it pretty hard tonight,” he remarked, feeling bad that he hadn’t paid closer attention.
“I know,” she groaned as he practically pulled her through the living room. “I’m gonna regret it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you are.” He smiled fondly, remember their teenage years together. Every night had been a party, usually a pretty wild one. Sure, it had been reckless as hell, but he wasn’t going to deny that he’d enjoyed it.
“I just wanted to be . . . twenty-two,” she whimpered. Then she started humming that annoying Taylor Swift song by the same title, mumbling afterward, “I hate that song.”
He got her into the bedroom and helped her lie down in the bed. He took her shoes off for her, and she curled up on her side, eyes closed, clutching at the pillow.
“You comfy?” he asked.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
“You just wanna sleep in your clothes?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Alright then.” He grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed and covered her up with it, promising her, “I’ll be in later.” He kissed the side of her head, then turned to leave the room.
“I’m sorry, Max,” she squeaked out suddenly.
He stopped and looked back at her. “It’s alright,” he assured her. So she’d gotten drunk. That was fine. Just because he didn’t drink anymore, that didn’t mean she couldn’t.
“I’m really sorry,” she repeated, her voice muffled against the pillow.
He frowned, unable to understand why she was apologizing so much when she hadn’t even done anything wrong.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elementary kids sure as hell enjoyed school. It was like they didn’t even know that Christmas break was coming—or rather winter break, as the politically correct term was. Or maybe they did know, and the promise of Santa giving them presents if they were good was enough to keep them in line. Whatever their motivation, Michael was impressed.
As the holiday break started to draw closer, he found his own energy level starting to drag. He loved his practicum, but he was ready for a change. Working with Jake next semester would be challenging, but it would keep him on his toes. And maybe next year it would work out for him to coach the football team again, from the start this time rather than just the last two games. He missed his team.
Perhaps it was because he missed them that he found a reason to drop in on basketball practice after school Monday. Many of the same boys who had played football were giving this less entertaining sport a shot, too. He knew Dylan was, because Maria had mentioned it. And she’d also mentioned that Max was coaching them, which was . . . interesting.
He found an inhaler in the hallway he was leaving and noticed that MM was written on a masking tape label. He knew right away that it belonged to Melvin, who, despite his absolute inability to do anything athletic, was playing basketball with Dylan and Luke and the other kids who actually would spend more time out on the court than on the bench. Knowing that Melvin was a spaz and might actually need his inhaler at some point during the practice, Michael took a detour to the gym.
He’d expected it to be loud, because basketball wasn’t exactly a quiet sport. There was the bouncing ball and the squeaking sound of the shoes on the floor, and . . . and Max as the coach. For some reason, he’d anticipated walking in there to find Max yelling at the kids the same where their old football coach had. But much to his surprise, and perhaps even to his disappointment, he had their full attention. They were all watching him, trying to mimic his movements as he demonstrated how to shoot a free throw.
“Now it’s all about the wrist,” Max said as he caught sight of Michael coming towards him. Momentarily, he looked distracted, but then he just continued on. “You don’t wanna chuck the ball forward or anything. You want your wrist to be like a spring.”
Michael rolled his eyes. Fucking basketball. This sport was such a load of crap. Football was brutal and intense, and that was why America loved it.
One of the kids spotted him and exclaimed, “Coach Michael!” and that was all it took to get everyone distracted. They stopped listening to Max and started waving at Michael and saying hi to him instead. He loved that, really.
“Melvin, lose something?” he asked, holding up the kid’s inhaler.
“Oh.” Melvin’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Michael tossed the inhaler to Max and said, “He might need that.”
“Thanks,” Max said, dribbling the ball with his free hand.
“Are you gonna coach us, too?” Luke asked, sounding hopeful.
If it was wrestling, he might have considered it, but no way could he coach basketball. And no way could he ever or would he ever coach with Max. “Afraid not,” he replied, and then, just to piss Max off, he added, “Sorry.”
A few of them groaned disappointedly, and he almost burst into laughter right on the spot. This was just perfect. Max was going to have some pretty big coaching shoes to fill. Jackass.
As if he were desperate to regain their attention, Max said, “Alright, we’re gonna practice some free throws. You get two shots. Who’s up first?”
Michael started to walk away, not surprised that Luke’s hand shot into the air and he was the first one to step up to the free throw line. The kid just had that Kyle Valenti natural athleticism. He was going to be good at each and every single sport he tried. He took his first shot, and even though it bounced off the rim, it was close to going in. Max told him what to fix, then encouraged the rest of the guys to cheer him on.
Before he left, Michael made eye contact with Dylan, just to see how he was doing, to see if he looked like he was having fun. And he did, but he wasn’t volunteering to go next, or even go at all. He didn’t look like he was enjoying this as much as football.
He smiled at Michael and waved, and Michael smiled and waved back at him. If he could have, he would have handed him a football jersey and told him to get back out there on the field where he belonged. And just for the heck of it, he probably would have gone out there and tossed the ball around with him. Just for old times’ sake.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So have you recovered?”
At first, Maria pretended not to know what Michael was referring to. “From what?” she asked.
He sat down next to her, grinning. “Saturday.”
“Oh, that.” She waved it off as if it were nothing. And it really was. “I’m fine. I wasn’t drunk or anything.”
“Are you sure?” he challenged. “Because Max practically carried you out of there.”
She only had fuzzy memories of leaving, so she didn’t doubt the truth of that. But still, she wanted to downplay it. “I was a little tipsy,” she acknowledged, “but Max said I didn’t do anything embarrassing, so that’s good.”
He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look.
“What?” she asked.
“No, he’s right. You didn’t do anything.”
Her heart started to pound anxiously. What the hell did that mean? “Oh my god, did I say something?” What if she’d been inappropriate? What if she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to say?
“At one point you might’ve . . . told me that I was way better looking than Max,” he revealed, “and way better in bed.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. And you said you don’t wanna marry him.”
Mortified, she covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god.” She had absolutely no memory of that. Had Max overheard? He must not have, because he hadn’t said anything.
He kept laughing, unable to contain himself, and that was enough to tip her off that he was lying. “Oh, shut up,” she snapped, instantly relieved. “I didn’t really say that.”
“No,” he admitted, “but I know you’re thinking it. It’s okay.”
“You don’t know anything. Don’t even joke about that.”
“You thought I was serious, didn’t you?” He smirked. “So that means you actually really do feel that way.”
“No, I knew you weren’t serious,” she lied.
“Oh, did you now?”
“Yes. You’re being annoying.”
He shrugged unabashedly, apparently much more at ease than she was when it came to joking about this sort of thing.
“I knew you weren’t serious,” she mumbled again, wishing that were true.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel wanted to talk to Alex after class, but she had to wait, because this annoying kid from the front row stuck around, too, asking for advice on the final portfolio of writing that was due next Thursday. Every time Alex suggested something or told him to do something, he overanalyzed it, and the conversation continued on for five more minutes. Isabel stayed at her desk, waiting as patiently as she could for her turn.
Finally, when it was just her and Alex, she got up and walked toward him, sitting down on the front table. He was slumped in his chair, looking as if that conversation with that guy had just exhausted him.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know what I’m doing with my portfolio. I think.” She’d tried to get started on it over the weekend, but she’d ended up getting . . . distracted.
“Then why are you still here?” he asked, rubbing his forehead.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” she said.
“How I’m doing?”
“Yeah, you know, with . . . everything.” It wasn’t necessary to say that bitch Leanna’s name, was it?
“I’m fine,” he said, but she wasn’t convinced.
“Are you guys getting a divorce?”
“That’s . . . none of your business.”
She frowned. “I was just wondering.”
“I’m your teacher, not your friend,” he said, reiterating what he always seemed to end up saying to her. “You have to understand that.”
“Well, the semester’s almost over,” she pointed out, “and then you won’t be my teacher anymore.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re gonna be friends.”
“Why not?” Was that really so much to ask? Before they’d ever gone out on that one ill-fated date of theirs, they had been friends. They had supported and respected each other the way friends did. Why couldn’t they just get back to that?
“Oh, come on, Isabel,” he grunted, gathering up his things. “How many conversations did we have before the start of this semester? None. We’re not friends.”
“But--”
“Isabel.” His expression was serious, his tone stern as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up. “Don’t try to weasel your way back into my life now that Leanna’s gone. There’s still no room for you.”
She lowered her head, falling silent as those words hit her. And they hit hard. She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodded unhappily, and tried to push down that all-too familiar feeling of regret. It seemed as if most of her conversations with people ended this way.
When she got home, no one was there. So she dropped her purse at the door, kicked off her shoes, and sulked into the bathroom. When she flipped on the light, it was almost hard to look at her reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t straightened her hair this morning, so it was all over the place. Her makeup was smeared, too, because she’d cried a little on the drive home.
She opened the medicine cabinet and found Courtney’s pills, the same ones she’d taken last time. There weren’t many left, maybe just five or six, but she dumped them out into the palm of her hand and stared at them for a while, debating whether or not to take them. Maybe she didn’t have to take all of them. Maybe just a few. Three. Or four.
Her lower lip trembled as she agonized over her decision. She knew that she shouldn’t do this, that she couldn’t do it every single time somebody said something to upset her. She might not be so lucky this time. But part of her just didn’t care.
But then she remembered Max’s invitation to spend Christmas Day at his house. Her mom was going to be there. Her mom and her brother, and the nephew she hardly knew . . . her family. Maybe they didn’t want her, but she still wanted them.
She put the pills back in the bottle, but even that was still too tempting. So she dumped them into the toilet and flushed them down instead, breathing a sigh of relief once they were gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Oh . . .” Infuriated, Michael squeezed his phone so hard, he thought he might crack it. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me”
Beside him, Monk was spinning in his seat, trying to keep a pencil balanced on his chin while their uneventful four-hour shift in the dorms dragged on. “What?”
“Every time I take a look at what my sister’s posting on Instagram, I get pissed off. Look.” He pulled Monk’s chair to a stop and showed him the image on the screen of his phone. First there was the sideways selfie Tina had taken to show off her growing belly. Then a picture she’d snapped while Nicholas was kissing her cheek. “And look at these comments,” he ranted, switching to a high-pitched voice to mimic a teenaged girl. “‘OMG, ur so cute pregnant!’” He rolled his eyes at the obliviousness of it all. “‘BTW, u and Nick r gunna be gr8888 parents.’” It made him want to puke just reading it. “No wonder she’s delusional about this pregnancy. Everyone her age fuckin’ glamorizes it.”
“Yeah,” Monk agreed, trying to get his pencil balanced on his chin again without spinning now. He stopped suddenly, though, and asked, “Hey, do you ever wonder what would happen if we were transported into an alternate universe where men have the babies?”
“No.” But just thinking about it was painful.
“Well, I do,” Monk said. “Those things exist, you know.”
“What?”
“Alternate universes.”
Michael laughed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Nope, just really smart.”
“Well, you go live in your alternate universe; I’ll stay in this one.” He leaned back, stretching, and checked the time on his phone. Only ten minutes later than when he’d last checked. “God, this sucks ass,” he grumbled. “I don’t feel like workin’ right now.”
“Me neither,” Monk agreed. “Luckily I won’t have to do this much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I got another job.”
“Where?”
“Best Buy. I start next week.”
Well, that retail giant was certainly the right fit for Monk. The guy was a whiz with computers and electronics of any kind. “Wait, so you’re not gonna be working here anymore?”
“No.”
Michael slumped, more than a little down in the dumps about that. “Dude, that sucks.”
“Not really. I’ll get paid more.”
“No, for me. It sucks for me.” Whenever he did these partner shifts, Monk was usually the guy he worked with. They got along so well and usually even managed to make the job fun. “Who am I gonna work with?”
Monk shrugged. “Brody will hire someone.”
“Probably someone boring. Not that you’re Mr. Excitement or anything.”
“Screw you, man. I’m a bundle of laughs.”
Michael laughed again, because the truth was, he’d grown to really appreciate Monk’s dull, dry sense of humor. He was going to miss him. “It’s not gonna be the same,” he said.
“No,” Monk agreed. “But if you ask Brody, I’m sure he’ll let you help interview people.”
Michael thought about that and nodded, making a mental note to do just that. If he was going to be stuck with a new co-worker, he wanted a say in who it turned out to be.
When his shift was over, he headed over to Vidorra and knocked on the door to Brody’s apartment. He came right out with wanting to help, and Brody was grateful for it. He told Michael to take a seat on the couch, disappeared into the other room for a minute, and then came back with a stack of applications. “These are the candidates I’ve narrowed it down to,” he said, setting the pile down on Michael’s lap.
Michael stared at it in horror. “This is narrowed down?”
“Hey, it’s a popular job. I get a lot of applications.”
“Anyone stand out?”
“A few. But if you look through ‘em and tell me what you think, we might be able to narrow it down further. I mean, we have to narrow it down further, obviously. We can’t interview all these people.”
Michael took one glance at the one on top and wasn’t impressed, so he set it aside. But the next one was more interesting. “Oh, this guy for sure,” he said, handing it over to Brody. “Look at his name.”
“Buster Cherry,” Brody read.
Michael waited for him to get how that sounded dirty, but apparently he didn’t. “Buster. Cherry,” he repeated slowly, emphasizing each word. “That’s awesome.”
“He’s got a high GPA, too,” Brody noted.
“Wait, not higher than mine, right?” Michael snatched the application back, relieved when he saw that Buster’s GPA was a 3.6. “Okay, we’re good. We can still interview him.” He made Buster the start of his yes pile and took a look at the next one. “Let’s see . . . Brooklyn Lockhart.” He nodded appreciatively. “She sounds hot. We’ll give her an interview.” He added her to the yes pile, cringing when he saw the name on the next application. “Nope, not this guy. I wrestled him when I was a sophomore in high school. He’s a chump.” Another one to the no pile. He quickly sorted through a few more after that, stopping when he got to one very notable application in the middle of the stack. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.
Brody leaned over, asking, “You recognize the name?”
He grinned, intrigued, his eyes locked on the name at the top of the paper, a name that wouldn’t allow him to look away. Maria DeLuca.
“You could say that,” he said, adding her to the yes pile for sure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If only the stereotype that New Mexico was always hot were true. Maria longed for some warm weather as she scraped her car off in the parking lot. The temperature had been cold all morning, but it seemed to have dropped even more because of the cloud cover that had rolled in while she’d been in class. Her windshield was literally frosted over, and before she could drive home, she had to thaw it out. She had her car running now, but the layer of frost was so thick that it was barely melting.
She was struggling to scrape away a particularly thick sheen of ice on the passenger’s side when she looked up and saw Michael coming her way. He wasn’t even wearing a coat, just sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt. Either he was trying to look macho and tough during this cold weather, or it really didn’t bother him. He did tend to run pretty . . . hot.
“Hey,” she said, trying to use her scraper like an ice pick now. “Did you sleep in today?” Class had been pretty boring without him.
“No, Sarah just isn’t feelin’ so well, so I stayed home to take care of her,” he explained.
“Oh.” How . . . thoughtful and sweet. “You’re a good boyfriend.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and asked, “Did I miss anything?”
“Yeah, actually. He pretty much just laid out everything we need to know for the final.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Are you serious?”
She laughed, amused that grades were such a serious thing to him now. “Relax, I took notes. We can study together.”
He sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She pushed forward with her scraper, finally loosening up the thick ice. Slowly but surely, it was chipping away.
“Want some help?” he offered.
“Uh, sure. Here, I have another one of these.” She opened up the passenger’s side door, reached into her glove compartment for a smaller scraper, and handed it over to him, grateful for the help.
“I got this,” he promised, jabbing the whole scraper into the ice layer with such strength that it cracked and started falling apart right away.
“So,” she said, halfheartedly continuing to scrape at her side of the windshield, “something tells me you didn’t walk out here just to help me scrape off my car.”
“No, I wanted to talk to you.”
Well, that sounded ominous. “About what?”
He cleared away enough ice so that she’d be able to see out her windshield and said, “Let’s . . .” as he motioned to get in the car.
Happy to get out of the cold for a minute, she climbed into the passenger’s seat and put her hands in front of the heater so they could warm up. He got in beside her, pulling his shirt sleeves down over his wrists.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, worried that whatever he needed to talk to her about was something bad.
“Nothing,” he said. “I just, uh . . . I wanted to give you a heads up that my boss Brody might be calling you today.”
His boss? She didn’t understand. “Why?”
“He wants to set up an interview.”
It actually took her a minute to remember that she had in fact dropped off an application to work for the housing department. It had been so long ago. “What?”
“Yeah, he liked your application.”
That was great, she supposed, but also . . . unexpected at this point. “I applied right after I moved here, like back in August,” she said.
“Well, you didn’t get the job then, but now . . . you’re in the running, so . . .” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d let you know. I mean, I don’t even know if you still want the job.”
“Well . . . from a financial standpoint, yes. I know, it’s just part-time, but I feel like, if I have a job, Max won’t have to work so hard.” The only reason why he painted people’s houses was so that they had enough money coming in to get by without much worry. “I mean, I didn’t plan to go without a job as long as I have, you know?” She’d filled out dozens of applications for dozens of different places right when she’d gotten to Carlsbad. But waitressing jobs were the only jobs that had wanted her, and she just . . . she just couldn’t do that again.
“But?” he said, obviously sensing her reluctance.
“But . . .” There was a lot to consider, and the biggest consideration of all was sitting right there next to her. “Obviously back when I applied, I had no idea you worked there.”
He made a face. “So you’re gonna turn down a job just ‘cause of me?”
“No, not necessarily.” She was definitely willing to keep her options open. “It’s just that . . . this complicates things for me.”
“Why? We already have class together. We see each other all the time.”
“Yeah, and if I get this job, we’ll see each other even more.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“No, not for me.” She immediately regretted saying that, because it made it sound like there was a problem. And so far, there wasn’t.
“For Max?” he assumed. “Are you worried about what he’s gonna think?”
Of course she was. She had asked Max to put up with so much these past few months, and he’d gone about it agreeably and willingly. But what if this just pushed him past his breaking point? “Well, aren’t you even the slightest bit concerned about Sarah?” she snapped.
“No, ‘cause I talked to her about it last night. She knows it’s just another . . . weird coincidence.”
Maria frowned. When did all these intersections of their lives stop being coincidence and start being . . . something else? It scared her that Michael was becoming such a big part of her life again, and it scared her even more that the thought of this job . . . excited her.
“I have to talk to Max,” she said. There were definitely good, logical reasons for her getting a job like they had originally intended. There were ways that it would benefit him. “But if it makes him uncomfortable . . .”
“He should suck it up and get over it,” Michael grumbled. “If you’re willing to get a job just to make things easier on him, he should be grateful.”
Maria shook her head, knowing it wasn’t that simple. It never was when Michael was involved.
“I’ll finish your car here,” he said, picking up the scraper again. He got out of the car and continued his work on her windshield.
She sat for a few more seconds inside, then got back out. But her mind was not focused on that frosted-over window anymore. “Michael,” she said.
He stopped what he was doing and looked across at her.
“Don’t pull any favors for me,” she told him. “If I do this interview and get this job, I want it to be based off of my own merit, not your recommendation.”
He stared at her incredulously and flapped his arms against his sides. “So what, I can’t even put in a good word for you?”
She shook her head decidedly. “No. I wanna earn it.”
He looked her right in the eye, and a slow, confident smile crept to his face. “You will,” he said, and then he continued scraping the ice away.
She picked up her scraper and resumed doing the same. It started to come off easily now, because at this point, it was melting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, wishing Maria had given him a little time to relax rather than just springing this on him right upon his return home from work. On the one hand, he was happy to hear that she might have a job in the works, but on the other hand . . .
“Max, say something,” she begged.
He wasn’t trying to be standoffish. He just needed a moment to contemplate everything. “What do you want me to say?” he said, turning around, forcing a smile. Even though he wasn’t upset, it did sort of seem like he was becoming fate’s ultimate punch line here.
“I just want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” she said softly. “And just be honest.”
“Honestly . . .” He shrugged. “It is kind of weird how all these things keep happening. He was Dylan’s coach, and he’s your classmate, and now he’s gonna be your coworker?”
“Potentially,” she reminded him. “I don’t even know if I’ll get the job.”
“No, you will.” He believed in Maria. If she did in fact score an interview, she’d make the most of it. And he’d be happy for her, because he didn’t want her to ever have to waitress again. He knew how much she hated doing that, and she’d done it for so long already. Too long.
“But I don’t have to take it,” she insisted. “If you don’t want me to . . .”
“No, it’s not . . .” He wasn’t about to forbid her from doing anything. In the end, it wasn’t his decision to make. “If this is what you want, then I support you. You know that.”
“I just . . .” She sighed. “I feel so bad. I feel like, these past few months, you’ve had to be so understanding of so much.”
He nodded, not about to dispute that. The whole semester had definitely tested him and maximized his patience. He’d had to trust her more than ever before. But then again, wasn’t that the least he could do? After all, despite the numerable horrible things he’d done, she’d still learned to trust him again.
“But I do think it would be good,” she said. “I mean, I wanna be able to help out with money, and it’s not like I’d be swimming in cash with this job, but at least it’d be something. Maybe you could spend more time at home and not have to work quite as much.”
“Yeah.” That would be nice. For the past couple months, he’d been putting in around fifty hours of work per week, and now that he was coaching basketball, too, he felt the strain.
“And it’s not like I’d be working with Michael all the time,” she went on quickly. “I mean, I know he works alone a lot, so it’s not like we’d always be--” She stopped abruptly when her phone rang, glancing down at the number. She didn’t say anything, so Max automatically knew that was either Michael himself or his boss.
Maria picked up the phone and answered it. “Hello?”
Max bent down and took off his construction boots. He hadn’t even had time to get out of his work clothes. All he really wanted to do was get in the shower, because today had been hard work.
“Yes, this is she,” Maria said cordially, so clearly it wasn’t Michael. The rest of her conversation was fairly standard, with her pretending not to have known in advance that she was going to be offered an interview. She set it up for the next day during the afternoon, and when that was done, she very politely said, “Okay, I look forward to it. Thank you,” and hung up.
Alright, so this is happening, Max registered. It was fine.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked him.
“Yeah.” It was a job, so in the end, it was a good thing.
“Are you sure?” she asked again. She really still sounded like she would back out on the whole thing if he asked her to. So in a way, it was tempting to do just that.
“Yes,” he insisted, refusing to be insecure. As weird as all of this was, he could deal. From the moment Michael had charged out of that office at school and started beating on him, the reality of Carlsbad had shifted gears. He’d known then that it wouldn’t be exactly what he had pictured, and he knew it now. But it didn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, he was the one Maria came home to. He was the guy who slept with her, in more ways than one, and the guy who was raising a child with her. So when it came right down to it, he had nothing to worry about.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael noticed Maria was wearing his sweatshirt again. Normally, he would have teased her about it a little bit, but he was too eager to find out if she was going to be one of the candidates he was helping interview today.
“So did he call?” he asked right as she sat down in her usual spot in the back row of the room.
“Who, Brody?”
“No, the pope.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, he called.”
“So are you doin’ the interview?” He really hoped so, because he was looking forward to it.
“Yeah,” she said. “I talked to Max about it, and he’s fine, so . . .”
So you got his permission, he thought bitterly, hating that she wouldn’t do it if he told her not to.
“I’m kinda nervous,” she admitted.
“Relax,” he told her. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t have the best track record with job interviews.”
“Hey, if I got hired, it can’t be too hard.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but you’re, like, this superstar of college. What’s your GPA again? 3.7?”
“3.8,” he corrected readily.
“See?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty fuckin’ awesome,” he boasted, stretching out, yawning. He started envisioning what it would be like to work with Maria then, her taking Monk’s place on the double shifts, and his yawn transformed into a grin.
“What?” she said.
“Ah, just . . .” He didn’t want to get her hopes up when she hadn’t yet gotten the job, but it was hard not to. “Don’t you think it’d be kinda fun to work together?”
“It’d be weird,” she mumbled.
“Weird but fun.” He smirked, wondering if he could convince her to do chair races with him like Monk used to.
“I just have to get the job first,” she said, squirming in her seat a bit. “I’m actually starting to get really nervous.”
“Relax. Brody’s a nice guy,” he assured her. “Not intimidating.”
“So I just have to impress him then?” she said. “He’s the only one who’s gonna interview me?”
“Yeah.” He kept his mischievous grin in check, just because he knew there was a possibility she’d freak out if she knew he got to interview her, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So, Maria, on your application, you listed responsibility as the most important workplace skill,” Brody recounted as he and Michael sat with Maria in the plush chairs outside the elevators at the Vidorra suites.
“Yes,” Maria said, nodding.
Michael gave her a prodding look. She had to say more, even though Brody technically hadn’t asked her a question.
She interpreted his look quickly and added on, “Because . . . you have to be responsible for everything, whether it’s showing up on time or making sure you do a good job while you’re on the clock, or even owning up to a mistake if you make one. Because that’s bound to happen.”
“Right,” Brody said, jotting down a few notes.
Michael pretended to write some stuff down, too, then asked the next question on the list Brody had printed off for him. “Give us an example of how you’ve demonstrated responsibility in your own life.”
“Um . . .” She hesitated momentarily.
Come on, Maria, he thought, hoping she didn’t get hung up. This should be easy for you.
“Well, obviously as a college student, I have to be responsible enough to study and get projects and papers done on time.”
Michael sighed inwardly, disappointed that she hadn’t mentioned Dylan, and how she’d worked two jobs at eighteen years old just so she could handle the responsibility of taking care of him. He wanted to mention it for her, but he’d promised Brody that he would treat Maria just like the other two candidates they’d decided to interview today.
The elevator doors opened, and out strolled Roxie, wearing just a man’s t-shirt and probably a whole lot of nothing underneath. She bypassed the three of them completely and dazedly approached the front desk.
“Oh, Michael, you’d better take care of that,” Brody told him.
He got up, laying his clipboard and interview sheet face down on the chair, and resumed his post at the desk, because even though he was interviewing, he was technically still on the clock. “Roxie,” he said.
“Hey, Michael,” she chirped, twisting her red hair around her finger flirtatiously. “You look so hot.”
“I know,” he agreed. “Don’t tell me it happened again.”
She pouted exaggeratedly and whimpered, “I don’t know why I always lock myself out.”
Because you’re dumb as a fence post, he thought. But he settled for, “It’s a head-scratcher,” instead, knowing that the sarcasm wouldn’t register with her. He gave her the skeleton key card and made a note on her room card that she was having to use it again. One more time this semester and she’d have to pay a fifty dollar fee, but if he was the one on duty when it happened again, he’d probably just let it slide on account of her being a total idiot.
“Hopefully I never lock myself in,” she said, taking the skeleton key from him.
“What? You can’t . . .” Oh, this girl. She was like Peter Griffin from Family Guy, only . . . thin and hot. “Yeah, don’t do that,” he said, figuring it would take more time to explain to her why locking herself in her room was impossible and that it was best to just go along with it. “Now you know the drill. Bring that one back to me after you’ve got your real key in your hand. Got it?”
“Okay!” she exclaimed, waving at him. “Thanks, Michael!” She skipped back to the elevator, lifting up her t-shirt to give him a quick flash of her ass before she got on.
“You see, that’s what makes Michael such a great employee, the charisma,” he heard Brody saying as he returned to the comfy chairs. “He’s able to get along with just about anyone.”
“Well, I’ve also slept with that girl,” Michael pointed out, “so that probably helps.”
“Michael!” Brody hissed.
“What?” He motioned to Maria and assured his boss, “She knows.”
“Yeah, I know,” Maria said. “It’s fine.”
Brody sighed and shook his head. “Right. Listen, Maria, Michael did tell me that the two of you have a history, so with that in mind, I hope you understand that I need to ask you a personal question.”
Immediately, she looked worried. “Sure,” she said, smiling shakily.
Just stay calm, Maria, Michael thought. You got this.
“If you were to get this job, the two of you would work together at times,” Brody said. “Do you foresee your personal relationship interfering at all with your professional one?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Maria answered quickly. “I know Michael prides himself on this job and takes it seriously, and I would do the same.”
Michael smiled. Good answer.
“And as for our relationship . . .” she said, casting a quick sideways glance at him. “It’s just a friendship nowadays. It wouldn’t be a distraction, because there’s really nothing else there.”
Brody smiled and jotted down a few notes, apparently satisfied with that answer, but the second part of it made Michael frown. Nothing else there? What the hell? He wondered if she really believed that, or if she was just saying it.
When the interview was over, Brody left to go take care of some business in one of the dorms, and Michael went back behind the front desk to finish the rest of his shift. Maria stayed for a bit, though, and he took the opportunity to confront her about what she’d said.
“Nothing?” he said dramatically. “Nothing?”
“What? I said we have a friendship,” she reminded him.
“And nothing else.”
“Well, there is nothing else,” she said. “Right?”
“I guess.”
“So why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad.” He supposed that maybe he had just hoped she would at least still feel attracted to him or something. Physically, at least. Because for him, that hadn’t gone away.
“I don’t get you sometimes,” she mumbled.
Yeah, sometimes he didn’t get himself.
In the midst of this whole interview, he’d nearly forgotten about Roxie, but she came back down to the front desk in the middle of their conversation. She had pants on now, which was . . . a shame.
“Oh, Roxie,” he said, “this has to be a new record-long for you. What happened?”
“I got confused,” she said, handing him the skeleton key card.
“Of course you did.”
When she noticed Maria standing there, her entire face took on this befuddled expression. “Wait a minute,” she said as she motioned back and forth between the two of them, “I didn’t know you guys were back together again.”
Maria tensed, and Michael said, “We’re not.”
“Oh.” Roxie’s whole brow furrowed up as her simple little mind tried to figure it out. “I’m confused again.”
“Just go have sex or something,” he suggested.
“Ooh, that sounds fun!” she exclaimed. She pranced back to the elevator and got back on, calling, “Bye, Michael!” as the doors shut.
“Well, I guess not everyone changes after high school,” Maria remarked.
Michael smirked. No, Roxie sure as hell hadn’t changed, even though most everyone else had.
“So how do you think I did?” Maria asked, sitting on the edge of the front desk. “Honestly.”
Honestly . . . he’d wanted her to do better. “You did alright,” he replied.
“Just alright?”
“Well, some of your answers were a little . . . generic.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like when you were talking about responsibility. I thought you could’ve mentioned Dylan and how you had to work so hard to be responsible for him.”
“I just didn’t know if I should,” she said. “Anytime I mention that I have a son, you can just see this shift in people’s eyes. It’s like they start to do the math and form opinions about me just because I had him so young.”
“But Brody’s not a judgmental guy, you know?” he said, wishing that he’d given her more advice before she’d gone into this. “He wouldn’t hold that against you. In fact, he’d probably respect it.”
She sighed heavily, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “So you don’t think I got the job?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see.” He knew she was his top choice, but not because of her interview.
“Don’t lobby for me,” she reminded him.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
He was already planning out what he was going to say to Brody . . . but she didn’t need to know that. “Promise.”
After his shift was over, he met up with Brody in Brody’s apartment and made his case. “I’m tellin’ you, Maria DeLuca will work her ass off,” he declared. “She’s used to it. And she is responsible, and she’s easy to get along with. Trust me, she’s the one.”
Brody gave him a skeptical look. “I bet you’ve said that before.”
Well, yeah, he had. In a different context, but . . . “Look, I know I said I’d be unbiased . . .”
“But you’re not,” Brody cut in.
“I tried to be,” he insisted. “But come on, Brooklyn was late, and Buster kind of seemed like a prick.”
“No, I thought he seemed very professional and mature,” Brody disagreed.
“And Maria didn’t?”
He shrugged. “She just seemed nervous.”
“Everyone’s nervous during a job interview,” Michael pointed out.
“Buster wasn’t.”
“No, ‘cause he was cocky.” There, that was the way to spin it. “He acted like he already knew everything. Did you notice that?”
Brody sighed, clearly conflicted. “You don’t think you’d work well with him, huh?” he deduced.
“No, it’d be a train wreck.” Honestly, it wouldn’t have been so bad; Buster hadn’t even really seemed all that horrible. But he was no Monk, and he was definitely no Maria. Working with him would be . . . work; working with Maria would be fun. “I’m telling you, Maria’s . . . she’s a really good person,” he pressed on, determined not to let up until he was pretty sure he’d managed to change Brody’s mind. “She deserves this.” He didn’t want this interview to be another in long line of failed interviews for Maria. He wanted her to get this job. Partly for himself, sure, but . . . mostly for her.
“I’ll think about it,” Brody decided, and Michael knew that was the best it was going to get.
That night, while they were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Sarah asked him about it. “So did she get the job?”
He wished he knew the answer, but it was obviously going to be Brody’s call, and it was still very much up in the air. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s between her and this guy . . .” He trailed off, chuckling. “This guy named—wait for it—Buster Cherry.” He laughed some more, because any time he said that name, it was just hilarious to him.
Sarah gave him a look, like she didn’t hear the same humor in it that he did.
He flapped his arms against his sides, groaning, “Am I the only one who thinks that’s funny?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria stood outside on her small porch the next morning, watching Max and Dylan play basketball in the driveway. It was warmer out today than it had been the past few days, so Max had been eager to get in some extra practice time with Dylan, but he was trying to go about it in a fun way.
“Dribble, dribble,” he instructed as Dylan tried to get the ball around him. “Shoot!”
Dylan jumped, pushing the ball up and forward, and much to Max’s delight, it went through the net.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Alright, look at that!” He gave Dylan a high five, and Dylan smiled proudly. He didn’t celebrate the way he had when he’d caught his first football, though. It was like his passion for this sport just wasn’t quite there yet. And yet was definitely the key word, because it was obvious that Max intended to get it there.
“Good job,” Max said as he retrieved the basketball. “Are you likin’ this a little better now?”
Dylan shrugged wordlessly.
“Oh come on,” Max urged. “You’re gettin’ good. Come on, let’s go again.” He passed the ball back to his son, and Dylan started dribbling it again.
Maria would have watched more, but her phone vibrated in the front pocket of her jeans. When she took it out, she recognized the number as Brody’s and went inside to take the call.
“Hello?” she said, trying not to sound nervous even though she was.
“Hi, Maria. It’s Brody Davis,” he said.
“Hey.” Oh god, what if this was the typical rejection phone call? She’d had so many of those over the years.
“I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to come in and interview yesterday,” he said.
She cringed inwardly, thinking this didn’t sound good. It seemed like he was about to tell her someone else had gotten the job.
“And . . . I was wondering if you could come in tomorrow, too,” he added, much to her surprise, “if you’d still like to work for the housing department, that is.”
For a second, she thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. She even had to say, “What?”
“I’d like to offer you the job,” he stated plainly. “Are you still interested?”
Her mouth dropped open, and she had to clasp her hand over it for a second to keep an excited squeal inside. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m very interested. Thank you so much.”
“Great, great,” Brody said. “Welcome to the team then. I think you’ll make a great addition.”
“Thank you,” she said again, bouncing up and down a little. “And yes, I can come in tomorrow. What time?”
“Does 2:00 work?”
Max would be home with Dylan, so anything worked. “Sure.”
“Alright, just plan on being there until about 5:00 then. I’ve got some paperwork I need you to fill out, and then we’ll get you workin’.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Um, I’m not gonna be alone, though, right?” She had no problem with solo shifts eventually, but as of right now, she didn’t really know what to do.
“No, Michael’s gonna be there,” he told her. “I’m gonna have him do your training.”
Because he’s the favorite employee, she thought. But she didn’t mind the thought of working with him at all. He would make it entertaining, and the time would probably just fly by.
“Does that sound like a plan?” Brody asked.
“It sounds great,” she confirmed, proud of herself for getting this job. It would be nice to be able to contribute something to her family so that Max wouldn’t have to pay for everything.
“Alright, see you tomorrow then,” Brody said. “Bye, Maria.”
“Bye.”
She ended the call and finally let out that squeal of delight. It was so nice to actually be offered a job rather than turned down. And this job wouldn’t require her to act happy all the time just for the sake of collecting tips.
She was excited to tell Max, but first, she called Michael. He answered after the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Guess what?”
TBC . . .
-April
I'm sure it's pretty obvious at this point that football symbolizes Michael, basketball symbolizes Max. So yes, problems could be on the horizon there.Max was really disappointed that Dylan didn't take to basketball,
Then Dylan announces that he likes football better. I feel problems coming on here.
I think I specialize in writing "unusual group hang-outs" at this point.This is a most unusual group to hang out........just waiting for the explosion!
Sara:
It's so frustrating with her, because it's clear that there is some part of her that would like to make some changes. But she never really makes them.Maybe just maybe Isabel can and will turn a new leaf??
Yeah, that kind of backfired on him. They weren't ready for a club/bar date.And I appreciate Kyle's effort in taking Tess out but I see where she is coming from. Maybe dinner next time. Or bowling...you know, something that isn't a bar.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Today's update is a little lengthier, as I couldn't find a good place to end it.
Part 38
By the time they got home that night, Maria wasn’t walking so much as she was dragging. She slumped against Max, barely managing to put one foot in front of the other, and he kept one arm tightly wrapped around her waist just in case her limbs gave out on her.
“You hit it pretty hard tonight,” he remarked, feeling bad that he hadn’t paid closer attention.
“I know,” she groaned as he practically pulled her through the living room. “I’m gonna regret it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you are.” He smiled fondly, remember their teenage years together. Every night had been a party, usually a pretty wild one. Sure, it had been reckless as hell, but he wasn’t going to deny that he’d enjoyed it.
“I just wanted to be . . . twenty-two,” she whimpered. Then she started humming that annoying Taylor Swift song by the same title, mumbling afterward, “I hate that song.”
He got her into the bedroom and helped her lie down in the bed. He took her shoes off for her, and she curled up on her side, eyes closed, clutching at the pillow.
“You comfy?” he asked.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
“You just wanna sleep in your clothes?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Alright then.” He grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed and covered her up with it, promising her, “I’ll be in later.” He kissed the side of her head, then turned to leave the room.
“I’m sorry, Max,” she squeaked out suddenly.
He stopped and looked back at her. “It’s alright,” he assured her. So she’d gotten drunk. That was fine. Just because he didn’t drink anymore, that didn’t mean she couldn’t.
“I’m really sorry,” she repeated, her voice muffled against the pillow.
He frowned, unable to understand why she was apologizing so much when she hadn’t even done anything wrong.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elementary kids sure as hell enjoyed school. It was like they didn’t even know that Christmas break was coming—or rather winter break, as the politically correct term was. Or maybe they did know, and the promise of Santa giving them presents if they were good was enough to keep them in line. Whatever their motivation, Michael was impressed.
As the holiday break started to draw closer, he found his own energy level starting to drag. He loved his practicum, but he was ready for a change. Working with Jake next semester would be challenging, but it would keep him on his toes. And maybe next year it would work out for him to coach the football team again, from the start this time rather than just the last two games. He missed his team.
Perhaps it was because he missed them that he found a reason to drop in on basketball practice after school Monday. Many of the same boys who had played football were giving this less entertaining sport a shot, too. He knew Dylan was, because Maria had mentioned it. And she’d also mentioned that Max was coaching them, which was . . . interesting.
He found an inhaler in the hallway he was leaving and noticed that MM was written on a masking tape label. He knew right away that it belonged to Melvin, who, despite his absolute inability to do anything athletic, was playing basketball with Dylan and Luke and the other kids who actually would spend more time out on the court than on the bench. Knowing that Melvin was a spaz and might actually need his inhaler at some point during the practice, Michael took a detour to the gym.
He’d expected it to be loud, because basketball wasn’t exactly a quiet sport. There was the bouncing ball and the squeaking sound of the shoes on the floor, and . . . and Max as the coach. For some reason, he’d anticipated walking in there to find Max yelling at the kids the same where their old football coach had. But much to his surprise, and perhaps even to his disappointment, he had their full attention. They were all watching him, trying to mimic his movements as he demonstrated how to shoot a free throw.
“Now it’s all about the wrist,” Max said as he caught sight of Michael coming towards him. Momentarily, he looked distracted, but then he just continued on. “You don’t wanna chuck the ball forward or anything. You want your wrist to be like a spring.”
Michael rolled his eyes. Fucking basketball. This sport was such a load of crap. Football was brutal and intense, and that was why America loved it.
One of the kids spotted him and exclaimed, “Coach Michael!” and that was all it took to get everyone distracted. They stopped listening to Max and started waving at Michael and saying hi to him instead. He loved that, really.
“Melvin, lose something?” he asked, holding up the kid’s inhaler.
“Oh.” Melvin’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Michael tossed the inhaler to Max and said, “He might need that.”
“Thanks,” Max said, dribbling the ball with his free hand.
“Are you gonna coach us, too?” Luke asked, sounding hopeful.
If it was wrestling, he might have considered it, but no way could he coach basketball. And no way could he ever or would he ever coach with Max. “Afraid not,” he replied, and then, just to piss Max off, he added, “Sorry.”
A few of them groaned disappointedly, and he almost burst into laughter right on the spot. This was just perfect. Max was going to have some pretty big coaching shoes to fill. Jackass.
As if he were desperate to regain their attention, Max said, “Alright, we’re gonna practice some free throws. You get two shots. Who’s up first?”
Michael started to walk away, not surprised that Luke’s hand shot into the air and he was the first one to step up to the free throw line. The kid just had that Kyle Valenti natural athleticism. He was going to be good at each and every single sport he tried. He took his first shot, and even though it bounced off the rim, it was close to going in. Max told him what to fix, then encouraged the rest of the guys to cheer him on.
Before he left, Michael made eye contact with Dylan, just to see how he was doing, to see if he looked like he was having fun. And he did, but he wasn’t volunteering to go next, or even go at all. He didn’t look like he was enjoying this as much as football.
He smiled at Michael and waved, and Michael smiled and waved back at him. If he could have, he would have handed him a football jersey and told him to get back out there on the field where he belonged. And just for the heck of it, he probably would have gone out there and tossed the ball around with him. Just for old times’ sake.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So have you recovered?”
At first, Maria pretended not to know what Michael was referring to. “From what?” she asked.
He sat down next to her, grinning. “Saturday.”
“Oh, that.” She waved it off as if it were nothing. And it really was. “I’m fine. I wasn’t drunk or anything.”
“Are you sure?” he challenged. “Because Max practically carried you out of there.”
She only had fuzzy memories of leaving, so she didn’t doubt the truth of that. But still, she wanted to downplay it. “I was a little tipsy,” she acknowledged, “but Max said I didn’t do anything embarrassing, so that’s good.”
He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look.
“What?” she asked.
“No, he’s right. You didn’t do anything.”
Her heart started to pound anxiously. What the hell did that mean? “Oh my god, did I say something?” What if she’d been inappropriate? What if she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to say?
“At one point you might’ve . . . told me that I was way better looking than Max,” he revealed, “and way better in bed.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. And you said you don’t wanna marry him.”
Mortified, she covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god.” She had absolutely no memory of that. Had Max overheard? He must not have, because he hadn’t said anything.
He kept laughing, unable to contain himself, and that was enough to tip her off that he was lying. “Oh, shut up,” she snapped, instantly relieved. “I didn’t really say that.”
“No,” he admitted, “but I know you’re thinking it. It’s okay.”
“You don’t know anything. Don’t even joke about that.”
“You thought I was serious, didn’t you?” He smirked. “So that means you actually really do feel that way.”
“No, I knew you weren’t serious,” she lied.
“Oh, did you now?”
“Yes. You’re being annoying.”
He shrugged unabashedly, apparently much more at ease than she was when it came to joking about this sort of thing.
“I knew you weren’t serious,” she mumbled again, wishing that were true.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel wanted to talk to Alex after class, but she had to wait, because this annoying kid from the front row stuck around, too, asking for advice on the final portfolio of writing that was due next Thursday. Every time Alex suggested something or told him to do something, he overanalyzed it, and the conversation continued on for five more minutes. Isabel stayed at her desk, waiting as patiently as she could for her turn.
Finally, when it was just her and Alex, she got up and walked toward him, sitting down on the front table. He was slumped in his chair, looking as if that conversation with that guy had just exhausted him.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know what I’m doing with my portfolio. I think.” She’d tried to get started on it over the weekend, but she’d ended up getting . . . distracted.
“Then why are you still here?” he asked, rubbing his forehead.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” she said.
“How I’m doing?”
“Yeah, you know, with . . . everything.” It wasn’t necessary to say that bitch Leanna’s name, was it?
“I’m fine,” he said, but she wasn’t convinced.
“Are you guys getting a divorce?”
“That’s . . . none of your business.”
She frowned. “I was just wondering.”
“I’m your teacher, not your friend,” he said, reiterating what he always seemed to end up saying to her. “You have to understand that.”
“Well, the semester’s almost over,” she pointed out, “and then you won’t be my teacher anymore.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re gonna be friends.”
“Why not?” Was that really so much to ask? Before they’d ever gone out on that one ill-fated date of theirs, they had been friends. They had supported and respected each other the way friends did. Why couldn’t they just get back to that?
“Oh, come on, Isabel,” he grunted, gathering up his things. “How many conversations did we have before the start of this semester? None. We’re not friends.”
“But--”
“Isabel.” His expression was serious, his tone stern as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up. “Don’t try to weasel your way back into my life now that Leanna’s gone. There’s still no room for you.”
She lowered her head, falling silent as those words hit her. And they hit hard. She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodded unhappily, and tried to push down that all-too familiar feeling of regret. It seemed as if most of her conversations with people ended this way.
When she got home, no one was there. So she dropped her purse at the door, kicked off her shoes, and sulked into the bathroom. When she flipped on the light, it was almost hard to look at her reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t straightened her hair this morning, so it was all over the place. Her makeup was smeared, too, because she’d cried a little on the drive home.
She opened the medicine cabinet and found Courtney’s pills, the same ones she’d taken last time. There weren’t many left, maybe just five or six, but she dumped them out into the palm of her hand and stared at them for a while, debating whether or not to take them. Maybe she didn’t have to take all of them. Maybe just a few. Three. Or four.
Her lower lip trembled as she agonized over her decision. She knew that she shouldn’t do this, that she couldn’t do it every single time somebody said something to upset her. She might not be so lucky this time. But part of her just didn’t care.
But then she remembered Max’s invitation to spend Christmas Day at his house. Her mom was going to be there. Her mom and her brother, and the nephew she hardly knew . . . her family. Maybe they didn’t want her, but she still wanted them.
She put the pills back in the bottle, but even that was still too tempting. So she dumped them into the toilet and flushed them down instead, breathing a sigh of relief once they were gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Oh . . .” Infuriated, Michael squeezed his phone so hard, he thought he might crack it. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me”
Beside him, Monk was spinning in his seat, trying to keep a pencil balanced on his chin while their uneventful four-hour shift in the dorms dragged on. “What?”
“Every time I take a look at what my sister’s posting on Instagram, I get pissed off. Look.” He pulled Monk’s chair to a stop and showed him the image on the screen of his phone. First there was the sideways selfie Tina had taken to show off her growing belly. Then a picture she’d snapped while Nicholas was kissing her cheek. “And look at these comments,” he ranted, switching to a high-pitched voice to mimic a teenaged girl. “‘OMG, ur so cute pregnant!’” He rolled his eyes at the obliviousness of it all. “‘BTW, u and Nick r gunna be gr8888 parents.’” It made him want to puke just reading it. “No wonder she’s delusional about this pregnancy. Everyone her age fuckin’ glamorizes it.”
“Yeah,” Monk agreed, trying to get his pencil balanced on his chin again without spinning now. He stopped suddenly, though, and asked, “Hey, do you ever wonder what would happen if we were transported into an alternate universe where men have the babies?”
“No.” But just thinking about it was painful.
“Well, I do,” Monk said. “Those things exist, you know.”
“What?”
“Alternate universes.”
Michael laughed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Nope, just really smart.”
“Well, you go live in your alternate universe; I’ll stay in this one.” He leaned back, stretching, and checked the time on his phone. Only ten minutes later than when he’d last checked. “God, this sucks ass,” he grumbled. “I don’t feel like workin’ right now.”
“Me neither,” Monk agreed. “Luckily I won’t have to do this much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I got another job.”
“Where?”
“Best Buy. I start next week.”
Well, that retail giant was certainly the right fit for Monk. The guy was a whiz with computers and electronics of any kind. “Wait, so you’re not gonna be working here anymore?”
“No.”
Michael slumped, more than a little down in the dumps about that. “Dude, that sucks.”
“Not really. I’ll get paid more.”
“No, for me. It sucks for me.” Whenever he did these partner shifts, Monk was usually the guy he worked with. They got along so well and usually even managed to make the job fun. “Who am I gonna work with?”
Monk shrugged. “Brody will hire someone.”
“Probably someone boring. Not that you’re Mr. Excitement or anything.”
“Screw you, man. I’m a bundle of laughs.”
Michael laughed again, because the truth was, he’d grown to really appreciate Monk’s dull, dry sense of humor. He was going to miss him. “It’s not gonna be the same,” he said.
“No,” Monk agreed. “But if you ask Brody, I’m sure he’ll let you help interview people.”
Michael thought about that and nodded, making a mental note to do just that. If he was going to be stuck with a new co-worker, he wanted a say in who it turned out to be.
When his shift was over, he headed over to Vidorra and knocked on the door to Brody’s apartment. He came right out with wanting to help, and Brody was grateful for it. He told Michael to take a seat on the couch, disappeared into the other room for a minute, and then came back with a stack of applications. “These are the candidates I’ve narrowed it down to,” he said, setting the pile down on Michael’s lap.
Michael stared at it in horror. “This is narrowed down?”
“Hey, it’s a popular job. I get a lot of applications.”
“Anyone stand out?”
“A few. But if you look through ‘em and tell me what you think, we might be able to narrow it down further. I mean, we have to narrow it down further, obviously. We can’t interview all these people.”
Michael took one glance at the one on top and wasn’t impressed, so he set it aside. But the next one was more interesting. “Oh, this guy for sure,” he said, handing it over to Brody. “Look at his name.”
“Buster Cherry,” Brody read.
Michael waited for him to get how that sounded dirty, but apparently he didn’t. “Buster. Cherry,” he repeated slowly, emphasizing each word. “That’s awesome.”
“He’s got a high GPA, too,” Brody noted.
“Wait, not higher than mine, right?” Michael snatched the application back, relieved when he saw that Buster’s GPA was a 3.6. “Okay, we’re good. We can still interview him.” He made Buster the start of his yes pile and took a look at the next one. “Let’s see . . . Brooklyn Lockhart.” He nodded appreciatively. “She sounds hot. We’ll give her an interview.” He added her to the yes pile, cringing when he saw the name on the next application. “Nope, not this guy. I wrestled him when I was a sophomore in high school. He’s a chump.” Another one to the no pile. He quickly sorted through a few more after that, stopping when he got to one very notable application in the middle of the stack. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.
Brody leaned over, asking, “You recognize the name?”
He grinned, intrigued, his eyes locked on the name at the top of the paper, a name that wouldn’t allow him to look away. Maria DeLuca.
“You could say that,” he said, adding her to the yes pile for sure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If only the stereotype that New Mexico was always hot were true. Maria longed for some warm weather as she scraped her car off in the parking lot. The temperature had been cold all morning, but it seemed to have dropped even more because of the cloud cover that had rolled in while she’d been in class. Her windshield was literally frosted over, and before she could drive home, she had to thaw it out. She had her car running now, but the layer of frost was so thick that it was barely melting.
She was struggling to scrape away a particularly thick sheen of ice on the passenger’s side when she looked up and saw Michael coming her way. He wasn’t even wearing a coat, just sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt. Either he was trying to look macho and tough during this cold weather, or it really didn’t bother him. He did tend to run pretty . . . hot.
“Hey,” she said, trying to use her scraper like an ice pick now. “Did you sleep in today?” Class had been pretty boring without him.
“No, Sarah just isn’t feelin’ so well, so I stayed home to take care of her,” he explained.
“Oh.” How . . . thoughtful and sweet. “You’re a good boyfriend.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and asked, “Did I miss anything?”
“Yeah, actually. He pretty much just laid out everything we need to know for the final.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Are you serious?”
She laughed, amused that grades were such a serious thing to him now. “Relax, I took notes. We can study together.”
He sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She pushed forward with her scraper, finally loosening up the thick ice. Slowly but surely, it was chipping away.
“Want some help?” he offered.
“Uh, sure. Here, I have another one of these.” She opened up the passenger’s side door, reached into her glove compartment for a smaller scraper, and handed it over to him, grateful for the help.
“I got this,” he promised, jabbing the whole scraper into the ice layer with such strength that it cracked and started falling apart right away.
“So,” she said, halfheartedly continuing to scrape at her side of the windshield, “something tells me you didn’t walk out here just to help me scrape off my car.”
“No, I wanted to talk to you.”
Well, that sounded ominous. “About what?”
He cleared away enough ice so that she’d be able to see out her windshield and said, “Let’s . . .” as he motioned to get in the car.
Happy to get out of the cold for a minute, she climbed into the passenger’s seat and put her hands in front of the heater so they could warm up. He got in beside her, pulling his shirt sleeves down over his wrists.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, worried that whatever he needed to talk to her about was something bad.
“Nothing,” he said. “I just, uh . . . I wanted to give you a heads up that my boss Brody might be calling you today.”
His boss? She didn’t understand. “Why?”
“He wants to set up an interview.”
It actually took her a minute to remember that she had in fact dropped off an application to work for the housing department. It had been so long ago. “What?”
“Yeah, he liked your application.”
That was great, she supposed, but also . . . unexpected at this point. “I applied right after I moved here, like back in August,” she said.
“Well, you didn’t get the job then, but now . . . you’re in the running, so . . .” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d let you know. I mean, I don’t even know if you still want the job.”
“Well . . . from a financial standpoint, yes. I know, it’s just part-time, but I feel like, if I have a job, Max won’t have to work so hard.” The only reason why he painted people’s houses was so that they had enough money coming in to get by without much worry. “I mean, I didn’t plan to go without a job as long as I have, you know?” She’d filled out dozens of applications for dozens of different places right when she’d gotten to Carlsbad. But waitressing jobs were the only jobs that had wanted her, and she just . . . she just couldn’t do that again.
“But?” he said, obviously sensing her reluctance.
“But . . .” There was a lot to consider, and the biggest consideration of all was sitting right there next to her. “Obviously back when I applied, I had no idea you worked there.”
He made a face. “So you’re gonna turn down a job just ‘cause of me?”
“No, not necessarily.” She was definitely willing to keep her options open. “It’s just that . . . this complicates things for me.”
“Why? We already have class together. We see each other all the time.”
“Yeah, and if I get this job, we’ll see each other even more.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“No, not for me.” She immediately regretted saying that, because it made it sound like there was a problem. And so far, there wasn’t.
“For Max?” he assumed. “Are you worried about what he’s gonna think?”
Of course she was. She had asked Max to put up with so much these past few months, and he’d gone about it agreeably and willingly. But what if this just pushed him past his breaking point? “Well, aren’t you even the slightest bit concerned about Sarah?” she snapped.
“No, ‘cause I talked to her about it last night. She knows it’s just another . . . weird coincidence.”
Maria frowned. When did all these intersections of their lives stop being coincidence and start being . . . something else? It scared her that Michael was becoming such a big part of her life again, and it scared her even more that the thought of this job . . . excited her.
“I have to talk to Max,” she said. There were definitely good, logical reasons for her getting a job like they had originally intended. There were ways that it would benefit him. “But if it makes him uncomfortable . . .”
“He should suck it up and get over it,” Michael grumbled. “If you’re willing to get a job just to make things easier on him, he should be grateful.”
Maria shook her head, knowing it wasn’t that simple. It never was when Michael was involved.
“I’ll finish your car here,” he said, picking up the scraper again. He got out of the car and continued his work on her windshield.
She sat for a few more seconds inside, then got back out. But her mind was not focused on that frosted-over window anymore. “Michael,” she said.
He stopped what he was doing and looked across at her.
“Don’t pull any favors for me,” she told him. “If I do this interview and get this job, I want it to be based off of my own merit, not your recommendation.”
He stared at her incredulously and flapped his arms against his sides. “So what, I can’t even put in a good word for you?”
She shook her head decidedly. “No. I wanna earn it.”
He looked her right in the eye, and a slow, confident smile crept to his face. “You will,” he said, and then he continued scraping the ice away.
She picked up her scraper and resumed doing the same. It started to come off easily now, because at this point, it was melting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, wishing Maria had given him a little time to relax rather than just springing this on him right upon his return home from work. On the one hand, he was happy to hear that she might have a job in the works, but on the other hand . . .
“Max, say something,” she begged.
He wasn’t trying to be standoffish. He just needed a moment to contemplate everything. “What do you want me to say?” he said, turning around, forcing a smile. Even though he wasn’t upset, it did sort of seem like he was becoming fate’s ultimate punch line here.
“I just want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” she said softly. “And just be honest.”
“Honestly . . .” He shrugged. “It is kind of weird how all these things keep happening. He was Dylan’s coach, and he’s your classmate, and now he’s gonna be your coworker?”
“Potentially,” she reminded him. “I don’t even know if I’ll get the job.”
“No, you will.” He believed in Maria. If she did in fact score an interview, she’d make the most of it. And he’d be happy for her, because he didn’t want her to ever have to waitress again. He knew how much she hated doing that, and she’d done it for so long already. Too long.
“But I don’t have to take it,” she insisted. “If you don’t want me to . . .”
“No, it’s not . . .” He wasn’t about to forbid her from doing anything. In the end, it wasn’t his decision to make. “If this is what you want, then I support you. You know that.”
“I just . . .” She sighed. “I feel so bad. I feel like, these past few months, you’ve had to be so understanding of so much.”
He nodded, not about to dispute that. The whole semester had definitely tested him and maximized his patience. He’d had to trust her more than ever before. But then again, wasn’t that the least he could do? After all, despite the numerable horrible things he’d done, she’d still learned to trust him again.
“But I do think it would be good,” she said. “I mean, I wanna be able to help out with money, and it’s not like I’d be swimming in cash with this job, but at least it’d be something. Maybe you could spend more time at home and not have to work quite as much.”
“Yeah.” That would be nice. For the past couple months, he’d been putting in around fifty hours of work per week, and now that he was coaching basketball, too, he felt the strain.
“And it’s not like I’d be working with Michael all the time,” she went on quickly. “I mean, I know he works alone a lot, so it’s not like we’d always be--” She stopped abruptly when her phone rang, glancing down at the number. She didn’t say anything, so Max automatically knew that was either Michael himself or his boss.
Maria picked up the phone and answered it. “Hello?”
Max bent down and took off his construction boots. He hadn’t even had time to get out of his work clothes. All he really wanted to do was get in the shower, because today had been hard work.
“Yes, this is she,” Maria said cordially, so clearly it wasn’t Michael. The rest of her conversation was fairly standard, with her pretending not to have known in advance that she was going to be offered an interview. She set it up for the next day during the afternoon, and when that was done, she very politely said, “Okay, I look forward to it. Thank you,” and hung up.
Alright, so this is happening, Max registered. It was fine.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked him.
“Yeah.” It was a job, so in the end, it was a good thing.
“Are you sure?” she asked again. She really still sounded like she would back out on the whole thing if he asked her to. So in a way, it was tempting to do just that.
“Yes,” he insisted, refusing to be insecure. As weird as all of this was, he could deal. From the moment Michael had charged out of that office at school and started beating on him, the reality of Carlsbad had shifted gears. He’d known then that it wouldn’t be exactly what he had pictured, and he knew it now. But it didn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, he was the one Maria came home to. He was the guy who slept with her, in more ways than one, and the guy who was raising a child with her. So when it came right down to it, he had nothing to worry about.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael noticed Maria was wearing his sweatshirt again. Normally, he would have teased her about it a little bit, but he was too eager to find out if she was going to be one of the candidates he was helping interview today.
“So did he call?” he asked right as she sat down in her usual spot in the back row of the room.
“Who, Brody?”
“No, the pope.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, he called.”
“So are you doin’ the interview?” He really hoped so, because he was looking forward to it.
“Yeah,” she said. “I talked to Max about it, and he’s fine, so . . .”
So you got his permission, he thought bitterly, hating that she wouldn’t do it if he told her not to.
“I’m kinda nervous,” she admitted.
“Relax,” he told her. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t have the best track record with job interviews.”
“Hey, if I got hired, it can’t be too hard.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but you’re, like, this superstar of college. What’s your GPA again? 3.7?”
“3.8,” he corrected readily.
“See?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty fuckin’ awesome,” he boasted, stretching out, yawning. He started envisioning what it would be like to work with Maria then, her taking Monk’s place on the double shifts, and his yawn transformed into a grin.
“What?” she said.
“Ah, just . . .” He didn’t want to get her hopes up when she hadn’t yet gotten the job, but it was hard not to. “Don’t you think it’d be kinda fun to work together?”
“It’d be weird,” she mumbled.
“Weird but fun.” He smirked, wondering if he could convince her to do chair races with him like Monk used to.
“I just have to get the job first,” she said, squirming in her seat a bit. “I’m actually starting to get really nervous.”
“Relax. Brody’s a nice guy,” he assured her. “Not intimidating.”
“So I just have to impress him then?” she said. “He’s the only one who’s gonna interview me?”
“Yeah.” He kept his mischievous grin in check, just because he knew there was a possibility she’d freak out if she knew he got to interview her, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So, Maria, on your application, you listed responsibility as the most important workplace skill,” Brody recounted as he and Michael sat with Maria in the plush chairs outside the elevators at the Vidorra suites.
“Yes,” Maria said, nodding.
Michael gave her a prodding look. She had to say more, even though Brody technically hadn’t asked her a question.
She interpreted his look quickly and added on, “Because . . . you have to be responsible for everything, whether it’s showing up on time or making sure you do a good job while you’re on the clock, or even owning up to a mistake if you make one. Because that’s bound to happen.”
“Right,” Brody said, jotting down a few notes.
Michael pretended to write some stuff down, too, then asked the next question on the list Brody had printed off for him. “Give us an example of how you’ve demonstrated responsibility in your own life.”
“Um . . .” She hesitated momentarily.
Come on, Maria, he thought, hoping she didn’t get hung up. This should be easy for you.
“Well, obviously as a college student, I have to be responsible enough to study and get projects and papers done on time.”
Michael sighed inwardly, disappointed that she hadn’t mentioned Dylan, and how she’d worked two jobs at eighteen years old just so she could handle the responsibility of taking care of him. He wanted to mention it for her, but he’d promised Brody that he would treat Maria just like the other two candidates they’d decided to interview today.
The elevator doors opened, and out strolled Roxie, wearing just a man’s t-shirt and probably a whole lot of nothing underneath. She bypassed the three of them completely and dazedly approached the front desk.
“Oh, Michael, you’d better take care of that,” Brody told him.
He got up, laying his clipboard and interview sheet face down on the chair, and resumed his post at the desk, because even though he was interviewing, he was technically still on the clock. “Roxie,” he said.
“Hey, Michael,” she chirped, twisting her red hair around her finger flirtatiously. “You look so hot.”
“I know,” he agreed. “Don’t tell me it happened again.”
She pouted exaggeratedly and whimpered, “I don’t know why I always lock myself out.”
Because you’re dumb as a fence post, he thought. But he settled for, “It’s a head-scratcher,” instead, knowing that the sarcasm wouldn’t register with her. He gave her the skeleton key card and made a note on her room card that she was having to use it again. One more time this semester and she’d have to pay a fifty dollar fee, but if he was the one on duty when it happened again, he’d probably just let it slide on account of her being a total idiot.
“Hopefully I never lock myself in,” she said, taking the skeleton key from him.
“What? You can’t . . .” Oh, this girl. She was like Peter Griffin from Family Guy, only . . . thin and hot. “Yeah, don’t do that,” he said, figuring it would take more time to explain to her why locking herself in her room was impossible and that it was best to just go along with it. “Now you know the drill. Bring that one back to me after you’ve got your real key in your hand. Got it?”
“Okay!” she exclaimed, waving at him. “Thanks, Michael!” She skipped back to the elevator, lifting up her t-shirt to give him a quick flash of her ass before she got on.
“You see, that’s what makes Michael such a great employee, the charisma,” he heard Brody saying as he returned to the comfy chairs. “He’s able to get along with just about anyone.”
“Well, I’ve also slept with that girl,” Michael pointed out, “so that probably helps.”
“Michael!” Brody hissed.
“What?” He motioned to Maria and assured his boss, “She knows.”
“Yeah, I know,” Maria said. “It’s fine.”
Brody sighed and shook his head. “Right. Listen, Maria, Michael did tell me that the two of you have a history, so with that in mind, I hope you understand that I need to ask you a personal question.”
Immediately, she looked worried. “Sure,” she said, smiling shakily.
Just stay calm, Maria, Michael thought. You got this.
“If you were to get this job, the two of you would work together at times,” Brody said. “Do you foresee your personal relationship interfering at all with your professional one?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Maria answered quickly. “I know Michael prides himself on this job and takes it seriously, and I would do the same.”
Michael smiled. Good answer.
“And as for our relationship . . .” she said, casting a quick sideways glance at him. “It’s just a friendship nowadays. It wouldn’t be a distraction, because there’s really nothing else there.”
Brody smiled and jotted down a few notes, apparently satisfied with that answer, but the second part of it made Michael frown. Nothing else there? What the hell? He wondered if she really believed that, or if she was just saying it.
When the interview was over, Brody left to go take care of some business in one of the dorms, and Michael went back behind the front desk to finish the rest of his shift. Maria stayed for a bit, though, and he took the opportunity to confront her about what she’d said.
“Nothing?” he said dramatically. “Nothing?”
“What? I said we have a friendship,” she reminded him.
“And nothing else.”
“Well, there is nothing else,” she said. “Right?”
“I guess.”
“So why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad.” He supposed that maybe he had just hoped she would at least still feel attracted to him or something. Physically, at least. Because for him, that hadn’t gone away.
“I don’t get you sometimes,” she mumbled.
Yeah, sometimes he didn’t get himself.
In the midst of this whole interview, he’d nearly forgotten about Roxie, but she came back down to the front desk in the middle of their conversation. She had pants on now, which was . . . a shame.
“Oh, Roxie,” he said, “this has to be a new record-long for you. What happened?”
“I got confused,” she said, handing him the skeleton key card.
“Of course you did.”
When she noticed Maria standing there, her entire face took on this befuddled expression. “Wait a minute,” she said as she motioned back and forth between the two of them, “I didn’t know you guys were back together again.”
Maria tensed, and Michael said, “We’re not.”
“Oh.” Roxie’s whole brow furrowed up as her simple little mind tried to figure it out. “I’m confused again.”
“Just go have sex or something,” he suggested.
“Ooh, that sounds fun!” she exclaimed. She pranced back to the elevator and got back on, calling, “Bye, Michael!” as the doors shut.
“Well, I guess not everyone changes after high school,” Maria remarked.
Michael smirked. No, Roxie sure as hell hadn’t changed, even though most everyone else had.
“So how do you think I did?” Maria asked, sitting on the edge of the front desk. “Honestly.”
Honestly . . . he’d wanted her to do better. “You did alright,” he replied.
“Just alright?”
“Well, some of your answers were a little . . . generic.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like when you were talking about responsibility. I thought you could’ve mentioned Dylan and how you had to work so hard to be responsible for him.”
“I just didn’t know if I should,” she said. “Anytime I mention that I have a son, you can just see this shift in people’s eyes. It’s like they start to do the math and form opinions about me just because I had him so young.”
“But Brody’s not a judgmental guy, you know?” he said, wishing that he’d given her more advice before she’d gone into this. “He wouldn’t hold that against you. In fact, he’d probably respect it.”
She sighed heavily, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “So you don’t think I got the job?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see.” He knew she was his top choice, but not because of her interview.
“Don’t lobby for me,” she reminded him.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
He was already planning out what he was going to say to Brody . . . but she didn’t need to know that. “Promise.”
After his shift was over, he met up with Brody in Brody’s apartment and made his case. “I’m tellin’ you, Maria DeLuca will work her ass off,” he declared. “She’s used to it. And she is responsible, and she’s easy to get along with. Trust me, she’s the one.”
Brody gave him a skeptical look. “I bet you’ve said that before.”
Well, yeah, he had. In a different context, but . . . “Look, I know I said I’d be unbiased . . .”
“But you’re not,” Brody cut in.
“I tried to be,” he insisted. “But come on, Brooklyn was late, and Buster kind of seemed like a prick.”
“No, I thought he seemed very professional and mature,” Brody disagreed.
“And Maria didn’t?”
He shrugged. “She just seemed nervous.”
“Everyone’s nervous during a job interview,” Michael pointed out.
“Buster wasn’t.”
“No, ‘cause he was cocky.” There, that was the way to spin it. “He acted like he already knew everything. Did you notice that?”
Brody sighed, clearly conflicted. “You don’t think you’d work well with him, huh?” he deduced.
“No, it’d be a train wreck.” Honestly, it wouldn’t have been so bad; Buster hadn’t even really seemed all that horrible. But he was no Monk, and he was definitely no Maria. Working with him would be . . . work; working with Maria would be fun. “I’m telling you, Maria’s . . . she’s a really good person,” he pressed on, determined not to let up until he was pretty sure he’d managed to change Brody’s mind. “She deserves this.” He didn’t want this interview to be another in long line of failed interviews for Maria. He wanted her to get this job. Partly for himself, sure, but . . . mostly for her.
“I’ll think about it,” Brody decided, and Michael knew that was the best it was going to get.
That night, while they were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Sarah asked him about it. “So did she get the job?”
He wished he knew the answer, but it was obviously going to be Brody’s call, and it was still very much up in the air. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s between her and this guy . . .” He trailed off, chuckling. “This guy named—wait for it—Buster Cherry.” He laughed some more, because any time he said that name, it was just hilarious to him.
Sarah gave him a look, like she didn’t hear the same humor in it that he did.
He flapped his arms against his sides, groaning, “Am I the only one who thinks that’s funny?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria stood outside on her small porch the next morning, watching Max and Dylan play basketball in the driveway. It was warmer out today than it had been the past few days, so Max had been eager to get in some extra practice time with Dylan, but he was trying to go about it in a fun way.
“Dribble, dribble,” he instructed as Dylan tried to get the ball around him. “Shoot!”
Dylan jumped, pushing the ball up and forward, and much to Max’s delight, it went through the net.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Alright, look at that!” He gave Dylan a high five, and Dylan smiled proudly. He didn’t celebrate the way he had when he’d caught his first football, though. It was like his passion for this sport just wasn’t quite there yet. And yet was definitely the key word, because it was obvious that Max intended to get it there.
“Good job,” Max said as he retrieved the basketball. “Are you likin’ this a little better now?”
Dylan shrugged wordlessly.
“Oh come on,” Max urged. “You’re gettin’ good. Come on, let’s go again.” He passed the ball back to his son, and Dylan started dribbling it again.
Maria would have watched more, but her phone vibrated in the front pocket of her jeans. When she took it out, she recognized the number as Brody’s and went inside to take the call.
“Hello?” she said, trying not to sound nervous even though she was.
“Hi, Maria. It’s Brody Davis,” he said.
“Hey.” Oh god, what if this was the typical rejection phone call? She’d had so many of those over the years.
“I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to come in and interview yesterday,” he said.
She cringed inwardly, thinking this didn’t sound good. It seemed like he was about to tell her someone else had gotten the job.
“And . . . I was wondering if you could come in tomorrow, too,” he added, much to her surprise, “if you’d still like to work for the housing department, that is.”
For a second, she thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. She even had to say, “What?”
“I’d like to offer you the job,” he stated plainly. “Are you still interested?”
Her mouth dropped open, and she had to clasp her hand over it for a second to keep an excited squeal inside. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m very interested. Thank you so much.”
“Great, great,” Brody said. “Welcome to the team then. I think you’ll make a great addition.”
“Thank you,” she said again, bouncing up and down a little. “And yes, I can come in tomorrow. What time?”
“Does 2:00 work?”
Max would be home with Dylan, so anything worked. “Sure.”
“Alright, just plan on being there until about 5:00 then. I’ve got some paperwork I need you to fill out, and then we’ll get you workin’.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Um, I’m not gonna be alone, though, right?” She had no problem with solo shifts eventually, but as of right now, she didn’t really know what to do.
“No, Michael’s gonna be there,” he told her. “I’m gonna have him do your training.”
Because he’s the favorite employee, she thought. But she didn’t mind the thought of working with him at all. He would make it entertaining, and the time would probably just fly by.
“Does that sound like a plan?” Brody asked.
“It sounds great,” she confirmed, proud of herself for getting this job. It would be nice to be able to contribute something to her family so that Max wouldn’t have to pay for everything.
“Alright, see you tomorrow then,” Brody said. “Bye, Maria.”
“Bye.”
She ended the call and finally let out that squeal of delight. It was so nice to actually be offered a job rather than turned down. And this job wouldn’t require her to act happy all the time just for the sake of collecting tips.
She was excited to tell Max, but first, she called Michael. He answered after the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Guess what?”
TBC . . .
-April
LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
-
keepsmiling7
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 2649
- Joined: Thu Jun 28, 2007 9:34 pm
Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 38, 09/04/16
Awesome part!
You had me pulled in, I really did think Maria made that drunken confession to Max.
Then when Michael told her she was just thinking that...........(and I think she really was)
More weird coincidences.......just how blind are Max and Sarah. Or does Max just want Maria to have a job and bring in some money?
Can't wait to see how this co=worker deal works out.
Thanks,
Carolyn
You had me pulled in, I really did think Maria made that drunken confession to Max.
Then when Michael told her she was just thinking that...........(and I think she really was)
More weird coincidences.......just how blind are Max and Sarah. Or does Max just want Maria to have a job and bring in some money?
Can't wait to see how this co=worker deal works out.
Thanks,
Carolyn
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sarammlover
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 321
- Joined: Mon Feb 04, 2008 5:03 pm
Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 38, 09/04/16
Oh April.....you are letting Michael and Maria walk a very FINE line here.....I don't even know where to begin....or what to say. Well first, I am SO glad Isabel flushed those pills. Good for her. First smart move she has made in a LONG time. Second...as much as I love Michael and Maria together, I don't love them together in this story. They have great chemistry but ultimately they aren't good for each other's growth. I hate saying that but I feel like it seems true. So intriguing every week!!!!!!
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April
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1557
- Joined: Tue Sep 28, 2004 9:32 am
- Location: Somewhere. Anywhere.
- Contact:
Part 39
Carolyn:
Sara:
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Part 39
“Faster.”
Maria ignored Michael and kept up her steady pace as she sorted the mail into piles for each floor of the Vidorra suites. But when he said it again, it annoyed her.
“Faster.”
She shot him an angry look. “I’m going as fast as I can. I don’t know your system here.”
“That’s why I’m trying to teach you the system,” he said.
“Well, maybe you’re a bad teacher.”
“No, I’m a good teacher,” he said, grinning. “You know that.”
She paused briefly, knowing that he was referencing . . . all the things he’d taught her. About sex. About what she liked to do sexually.
Oh god, she couldn’t think about that.
She resumed sorting the envelopes into piles, but he quickly spotted one that wasn’t right and picked it back up again. “Hold up. This is room 217. You put it in the three-hundreds pile.”
“Oh my god, shame on me. It’s the end of the world,” she said overdramatically, snatching the envelope back from him, putting it in the correct pile.
“It could be,” he said. “What if there was something vitally important in this envelope and the person didn’t get it because you put it in the wrong pile and in the wrong mailbox? You ever think of that?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“Watch it now,” he cautioned. “I’m your boss.”
“No, Brody’s my boss. You’re my coworker.”
“No, technically today I am your boss,” he persisted. That mischievous grin of his reappeared, and he added, “ ‘cause I’m more experienced.”
She shuddered internally as the double meaning of that claim resonated with her. She couldn’t even formulate a response, even though she knew he wasn’t really trying to flirt with her. It was just something that came naturally to him, like breathing. He’d mastered the art form of it and probably didn’t even realize he was doing it right now.
“I get to boss you around,” he declared, obviously loving every second of this. “You gotta do what I say.”
“No, I don’t,” she disagreed.
“Ooh, insubordination. Job strike number one,” he teased.
“Shut up, Michael.”
“Back-talking. That’s number two.”
She swung her hand out and whacked his shoulder playfully.
“Physical harassment!” he yelped, pretending like that had hurt. “Number three right there!”
Despite how much she was acting like she was annoyed . . . she couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. Michael was . . . fun. He always had been.
“So did you know I was gonna get the job?” she asked him as she tried to finish up the mail sorting. It really was taking her longer than it should have, but that was because he was distracting.
“I knew it was between you and one other person,” he said. “Named Buster Cherry.”
“Buster Cherry?” she echoed, her mind immediately misconstruing the sound of it. “That’s hilarious.”
“I know!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I keep saying.”
“Who would name their kid that?”
“Yeah, really. Oh, and look at this guy.” He picked up the top envelope from the first floor pile and read the name of the person it was addressed to. “Miles Long.”
“Oh!” She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s really bad.”
“Actually, I think it’s kinda cool,” he said. “I’d name my kid that.”
“Parents should really think twice,” she said, suddenly wondering if there was any way her own son’s name could be misinterpreted. “There’s nothing that can go wrong with Dylan DeLuca, right? Dylan DeLuca.” It sounded fine to her.
“No, I think he’s safe,” Michael said.
“Good.” She sorted out the last few envelopes, then declared, “There. It’s done.”
“Finally,” he groaned exaggeratedly. “Now you gotta put ‘em in their mailboxes. Fast.”
“Fine.” She grabbed the first floor pile and slipped through a door that led to what Michael called ‘the mailroom.’ It was basically just the small, dimly-lit, cramped space behind the mailboxes. There was barely room for her alone back there, but he came back, too, just so he could supervise and tease her some more.
“Faster,” he urged as she went about her work. “Faster.”
She shot him a quasi-annoyed look, barely managing to keep her smile subdued.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael was in a good mood when he got off work, but he decided to downplay it a little. Even though Sarah was as understanding and secure as a girlfriend could be, he still didn’t see any point in letting her know how much fun he’d had bossing Maria around today.
“Hey,” she said, only briefly glancing up from her laptop. “How was work?”
“It was good,” he replied, kicking off his shoes.
“How’d Maria do?”
“Pretty well.” He leaned over the back of the couch and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Cramming?” he noted.
“No, not at all. In fact, I’m totally prepared,” she proclaimed, closing the laptop.
“Oh, are you now?”
“Yes.” She set the computer aside on the coffee table and stood up. Stretching, she inquired, “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m gonna ace ‘em all,” he predicted.
“Even your music one?”
“Uh-huh.” He still had to do a little studying for that one, but luckily it wasn’t until Thursday. He had time.
“What about your psychology paper?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “about that . . . I was kinda hopin’ you might--”
“Proofread it?” she cut in knowingly.
“Yeah.”
She stepped up onto the couch, about eye level with him now, and said, “I suppose,” as she fell against him.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “You’re the best.” His hands, out of habit, started creeping up underneath her shirt, but she pulled back slightly as they did so.
“Uh-uh, don’t get too carried away,” she said.
“Why not?” He wanted to.
Just as he said that, there was a knock at the door.
“Because our friends are here,” she said, hopping down off the couch.
Right, he thought. They were having a movie night or something; Sarah had wanted a night to take the edge off of finals week. A night full of sex would have been just fine with him, but this would be alright, too.
When she opened the door, it was only Tess standing there, and she didn’t look happy.
“Hey,” Sarah greeted. “Where’s Kyle?”
“He’s coming,” Tess mumbled, slipping inside. She went straight to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator. Michael thought about making some kind of pregnancy joke about food cravings, but then he figured it was probably in his best interest not to.
Sarah waited at the door, and Kyle came in a few seconds later. He was walking slowly, but he didn’t even have his cane. And he actually looked clean-shaven and not so much like he’d been laying on the couch all day.
“Kyle, you look nice,” Sarah remarked.
“Thanks,” he said, patting his stomach. “Trying to lose some weight.”
Even though he still looked heavier than he ought to have been, Michael did feel like he looked a little more like his old self. And that was refreshing.
Apparently Tess wasn’t impressed, though, because, with an unopened pudding cup in hand, she grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her into the bathroom without a word.
“Whoa,” Michael said, kicking the front door shut. “If we hear that shower start up, we’re goin’ in there. That could be hot.”
“Ah, she’s mad at me,” Kyle said. “We got in an argument on the way here.”
“About what?”
“I don’t even know. It’s so hard to follow her train of thought right now,” Kyle lamented. “She’s all over the place.”
“Well, she’s pregnant,” Michael pointed out. Pregnant women generally weren’t known for rational thinking.
“I wasn’t even mad at her,” Kyle said, “so I don’t know why we argued.”
“What set her off?” There had to be something, even if it wasn’t something big. Girls did that; they took one small little issue or little word and blew it up into this whole big thing.
“I told her I think we should go ahead and get married,” Kyle revealed.
Michael grunted. “About time.”
“No, but she just freaked out. She started cryin’ and yellin’ at me.”
“What?” Michael didn’t get it. He knew Kyle had gotten into the habit of saying some pretty dumbass shit over these past few years, but what the hell was wrong with this?
“She said it pissed her off that I would even mention it right now, ‘cause she thinks the only reason I wanna marry her is ‘cause she’s pregnant.”
“Well . . .” In a way, Michael could kind of understand where she was going with that.
“No, but that’s not the only reason,” Kyle clarified. “I mean, did finding out that I’m gonna be a father light a fire under my butt? Yeah, it spurs me on. But we’ve been engaged for a while. I know I should’ve married her a long time ago. This pregnancy just, you know, gets us back on track with that.”
Michael didn’t want to deflate his best friend too much, but it seemed to him that he and Tess were about as off track as they’d ever been. And maybe they needed to reconnect before marriage was a feasible possibility.
“Well, it’ll all work out,” Michael assured him. Even if their relationship was hanging by a thread . . . at least that thread hadn’t snapped completely.
“I don’t know,” Kyle muttered skeptically. “I’m really trying; I really am. But I feel like I’m fucked either way. And honestly, at this point, bro, I’d be shocked if she even lets this kid have my last name.”
Michael frowned, because hearing that made him think of Dylan, and the circumstance that had led to his last name being DeLuca rather than Evans. Tess and Kyle were going through a rough patch, sure, but Kyle wasn’t like Max. He wasn’t abandoning Tess, leaving her to raise this child on her own. If Tess didn’t start to understand that, Michael was going to start to get pissed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sarah didn’t know what to do to calm Tess down. The girl was just a hysterical wreck. She’d barely made it in the bathroom before she sat down on the floor, leaning back against the door, and started sobbing. And she hadn’t let up.
Sarah reached up on top of the back of the toilet and grabbed another handful of tissues out of the box, handing them to her friend. “Tess, I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I could say something to make you feel better.”
Tess shrugged hopelessly, wiping off her cheeks. “That’s just it: Nothing makes me feel better,” she cried. “Being pregnant is so crazy, Sarah. It’s like I wake up every day feeling one way, and then I go to bed feeling completely different. And I’m so hormonal, anything can set me off.”
“Like Kyle?” Sarah guessed.
“Yes! And I mean, I know he was just trying to do the right thing when he said we should get married, and I didn’t mean to bite his head off about it, and part of me still really does wanna marry him, but the other part of me just worries that he doesn’t really love me anymore, and I’m so freaking out here!”
“Okay, okay,” Sarah said softly, trying to interject a calming tone into her best friend’s emotional rant. “So you’re freaking out. That’s okay. That’s normal. But look at Kyle. I’ve never seen him seen him try so hard to be . . .” She trailed off, looking for the right word. “Better.”
Tess sniffled, nodding sadly. “He is doing better,” Tess acknowledged. “I think this baby’s really giving him motivation.”
“See? That’s great.”
More tears fell from Tess’s eyes, and she didn’t wipe them away this time. “I just worry,” she said. “What if it’s just temporary? What if we never really recapture what we used to have?”
“Well . . .” Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll never know unless you try.”
Tess exhaled shakily, nodding, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the tissues. She still didn’t look completely calm to Sarah, but maybe she would be if they just sat in there for a little while longer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Finals week started for Sarah right away on Monday, but Michael didn’t have an exam that day. So he studied with Maria at work, purposefully answering questions wrong at first while she quizzed him, just so he’d be able to see that stunned look on her face when he started answering them right. The fact that he was a good student now seemed to infuriate her just as much as it made her proud.
When Tuesday rolled around, it was time to turn in the paper Sarah had proofread for him and take his final exam for Social Psychology on top of it. He knew all the answers like the back of his hand. Self-efficacy. Empathy. Superego. Id.
He had an exam for his other psychology class, too, but instead of being multiple choice, it was a persuasive essay. There were three questions, and he only had to choose one to answer. He chose Does exposure to adult sexual behavior harm children? Because all he had to do was think about Tina, and the paragraphs just flowed onto the page.
On Wednesday, he completed the last day of his practicum at Pound. Vanessa signed off on all his paperwork and wished him a happy holiday, but there was really no need to say goodbye. Even though he wouldn’t be her student next semester, he’d still be there, and if this Jake kid was as high-maintenance as everyone said he was, he’d be working with her a lot.
After managing to squeeze in one more study session with Maria, it was time for his last final of the semester in Music Appreciation. Once he was done with that test, he’d be done with everything, officially on Christmas break.
He had to move one seat down so that there was an empty space in between him and Maria during the final. But he was still close enough that he could look at her and smile when the TA set their exam booklets down in front of them. He wanted her to do well, and he knew she would if she didn’t second-guess herself.
He finished the test quickly and glanced over at her to gauge her progress. She definitely wasn’t zipping through it like him, but she didn’t seem frazzled by any of the questions. She darkened the ovals on her answer sheet slowly and deliberately, and he really had no choice but to get up and hand in his test. He couldn’t very well wait in the lecture hall for her after that, so he waited right outside the door instead.
When she emerged, she looked confident. “Hey, you didn’t have to wait,” she said.
He shrugged. No big deal. He didn’t have anything going on today. “So how do you think you did?” he asked her.
“I think I did really well,” she said. “Let me guess: You aced it.”
He smirked. “Always do.”
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being such a good student.”
“I know, it’s weird,” he agreed. At least he was still a back-of-the-class kid. In this class, at least. They both were.
Together, they walked down the hallway, her questioning, “So are you heading home tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow or Saturday,” he said. It really depended on when Sarah finished her last final. “What about you?”
“My mom and Max’s mom are both coming to our house this year,” she replied.
“Oh.” He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Maria’s mom . . . she was a real pill. And Diane Evans wasn’t exactly a huge fan of his, either.
“And Max invited Isabel, too.”
Michael snorted. “Good.”
“Good?” she echoed incredulously.
“Yeah, it’s about time he steps up and actually does something for his sister.”
Just like she always did, she immediately jumped to his defense. “He just distances himself from her because he doesn’t wanna get caught up in any of the shady stuff she’s involved in.”
“But I thought he was such a changed guy, remember?”
“Michael . . .” She shot him a warning look, and he knew he had to shut up.
“Fine.” He could get in some more jabs at Max after Christmas break. “So what else you got planned?”
“Uh, nothing much,” she said as they walked outside. Then she groaned. “Ugh, next Saturday we this holiday basketball tournament.”
“Fuck basketball,” he grumbled. “It’s a lame sport.”
“Well, Dylan’s getting pretty good at it,” she said. “He must’ve gotten all his athleticism from Max, ‘cause he sure as hell didn’t get any from me.”
Even though it was stupid, and even though it didn’t really matter, Michael just had to ask, “He still likes football better, right?”
She looked up at him and quietly said, “Yeah. It’s his favorite.”
Michael’s chest swelled with pride for a moment, and he smiled inwardly. Because it was nice to know that Dylan hadn’t gotten everything from Max.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It ended up being Saturday before Michael and Sarah hit the road for Roswell, just two days before Christmas. They were among the last students to leave, except for the international students, who all had to be relocated to one dorm over break.
From the moment they walked in the front door, they were basically ignored by Tina, because all her attention was on the dog. “Shango!” she exclaimed, struggling to bend down with her ever-rounded stomach in the way. He was still light enough for her to pick up, though, and when she did, he immediately went crazy trying to lick her face.
“Watch out for him,” Michael cautioned. “He’s goin’ through a horny phase.”
“Ew,” Tina said. “What?”
“Yeah, he humps everything in sight.” Truth be told, it kind of made Michael proud, though, to know that his dog had a healthy libido.
“I keep saying we should get him neutered,” Sarah said.
“No, I’m not gonna do that to my dog,” Michael protested. “Strip away his masculinity? Forget about it. Listen, Tina, if he starts, it’s best to just let him finish.”
Making a face, she set Shango back down again.
“We need to discipline him more then,” Sarah decided.
“He’s fine,” Michael insisted.
“No, he’s not. Remember the other night? I thought Tess’s leg was gonna come right off.”
Michael chuckled at the memory of that horrified look on Tess’s face. “That was funny.”
“Not to her.”
“Fine, we’ll get him one of those big teddy bears then,” Michael proposed. “And any time he feels like it, he can just get that bear and . . . you know . . . do this thing.” There. That was a simple enough solution.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Tina said. “Cats have scratching posts. Shango can have a hump bear.”
“See?” It was a genius solution, and Michael was proud of himself for coming up with it.
“Whatever,” Sarah mumbled. “Where’s your mom at?”
“Oh, she just had to run out to get a few last-minute gifts,” Tina replied. “She’ll be back soon, though.”
“Good,” Michael said. He didn’t like the thought of Tina being here alone, because who the hell knew what kind of shit she could get into when she was unsupervised.
“Michael!” Sarah yelped suddenly, pointing into the living room. “Look.” Shango was sniffing around the Christmas tree, poised as if he were about to lift his leg and pee on the tree skirt.
“Dammit,” he swore, rushing to his dog. He scooped him up and hurried him outside.
Once they were out there, of course, Shango miraculously didn’t have to pee anymore. He just wandered around the front lawn, sniffing aimlessly. Michael stayed out there with him, though, because he didn’t want him to run off.
Tina stepped outside wearing a big, oversized black jacket that he recognized as his dad’s. It had the name of his construction company up by the left shoulder, and it was more than a little well-worn.
“So are we gonna have a good Christmas?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “You tell me.” He was going to try to get along with her as well as she could, but if she channeled her teenage-bitch mode and said something to set him off . . . well, he’d never been one to bite his tongue.
“No, you tell me,” she said. “I wanna have a good Christmas.”
“So do I.” This was the last one that would be normal for her. Next year at this time, she’d have a kid, and her life would be a lot harder than it was now. But she still didn’t know that yet.
She sighed, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, looking down at her feet. She mumbled something that sounded like, “Mom invited Nicholas over,” but . . . no. There was no way that could possibly be right.
“What?” he said.
She lifted her head and said it louder. “Mom invited Nicholas over. He’s coming tonight.”
Michael bristled, wondering if there was some sort of punch line coming. Because this had to be a joke. It had to be. “Are you kidding me?” he spat.
Her serious facial expression didn’t change one bit. “No.”
He stared at her in disbelief, about to lose his cool. Because apparently his mom had lost her mind.
When she got home, he wasted no time pulling her into the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Tina in the living room to play with Shango and try to keep him away from that tree. He confronted her about this ridiculous, insane idea right away, because he wanted to put an end to it.
“Why the hell would you invite him over?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice down.
“It wasn’t a decision I made in two seconds, okay?” she assured him. “But Michael . . . he comes from a rough home.”
Like ours, he thought bitterly.
“He lives in a trailer park,” she went on, “with his dad, who’s an unemployed, abusive alcoholic.”
“Hmm, sounds familiar,” he grumbled.
“But he’s physically abusive, Michael. He came over to see Tina the other day, and he had a huge black eye. I felt horrible.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” Michael agreed. His dad hadn’t been abusive, but they’d gotten into a fist fight a time or two. He didn’t wish that on anyone. “But that doesn’t mean you should invite him to spend Christmas with us.”
“Michael, as much as we may hate to accept this, Tina is having a child with this boy. In a couple months, they are gonna be parents, and I think trying to keep them apart might do more harm than good.”
Michael groaned, shaking his head. “He’s not part of this family.”
“Well, whether we like it or not, he’s starting a family with her,” she said. “So maybe we need to make room for him.”
Michael clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to kick a chair or punch a wall or something. “Where’s he gonna sleep?”
“On the couch.”
“Then where am I gonna sleep?”
“In your room, with Sarah. I figured you wouldn’t mind that.”
In his room? He hadn’t slept in there for years. Whenever he came to Roswell, Sarah was with him, and she took the room and he took the couch. But now they had to make room for fucking Nicholas.
“This is bullshit,” he swore. “I don’t like this, Mom.”
“I know you don’t,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “but please try to stay calm about it. I want us to have a nice Christmas. And Sarah’s here. You don’t wanna make her feel uncomfortable, do you?”
“No, Sarah knows how I feel about Nicholas,” he mumbled.
“Just tone down the hostility,” she requested. “It’s Christmas.”
Yeah, a time for miracles, he thought grumpily. He was going to need a miracle to survive these next few days at home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel was halfway asleep on the couch when she felt a presence near her. She opened her tired eyes and saw Jesse standing over her, holding a mistletoe above her head.
“Hey, baby,” he said, bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Mmm,” she moaned, moving around a bit. She stretched out her limbs, then curled her legs up to make room for him to sit down. “Where’d you go tonight?” she asked.
“Just out with Eric and Courtney,” he answered. “They’re still out.”
“Where’d they go?” she asked, draping her legs over his lap.
He chuckled. “You don’t wanna know.”
“What, like an orgy or something?”
“Yeah.”
She frowned. “And you went with them?” Jesse went out without her sometimes—that wasn’t unusual. But sometimes she worried that he’d hook up with someone when she wasn’t there.
“I didn’t do anything,” he promised. “A couple girls there recognized me from the site, but . . . nothing happened.”
“Good.” Maybe their relationship was unconventional, but at least she knew she could trust him.
“So . . .” he said, massaging her calves. “My mom’s gonna come visit tomorrow.”
“Is she?” She hadn’t been aware of that. Jesse’s mom lived in Miami, so usually they just talked on the phone for the holidays.
“I’m flyin’ her out,” he said. “We haven’t spent Christmas together in years.”
“That’ll be nice,” she said. Jesse and his mom had a good, solid relationship. She knew about the website and all the videos, but she didn’t judge him for it. She just loved him unconditionally.
“I told Courtney and Eric they gotta be on their best behavior,” he said. “And you, too.”
“I’m always on my best behavior.” She grinned.
He laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“I won’t be here on Christmas Day, though,” she reminded him. “I’m going to Max’s.”
“To Max’s?” he echoed.
“Yeah. Remember?” She’d told him over a week ago, mentioned it multiple times.
“I forgot about that,” he said. “Hmm. You sure you don’t wanna just stay here?”
Oh, she was sure. She was very sure. She had nothing against Jesse’s mom, even though she’d never met her. They’d spoken over the phone a couple times, and she seemed like a nice woman. But spending Christmas with her just wasn’t a substitute for spending it with her own mom. “I have to go,” she said.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“But I want to,” she clarified. “I miss Max, and I miss my mom.”
“But you and your mom don’t even talk anymore,” he said.
“Exactly.” This was going to be their chance to do just that. “I’ll be here tomorrow night,” she promised. “So I’ll see your mom then.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Well, listen . . .” He maneuvered so that he was practically lying on top of her, his body warm and heavy against hers. “If things don’t go the way you hope with your brother and your mom, you just come home to the people who really love you, okay?”
She frowned. What was he insinuating, that her mom didn’t love her anymore? Maybe they didn’t speak, but that didn’t mean . . . that didn’t mean the love was gone. It had to still be in there somewhere.
“Jesse . . .” She wanted to tell him that that had kind of hurt her feelings, but before she could, he held up that mistletoe again and silenced her with a kiss.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sleep wasn’t coming easy that night. Not to Michael, at least. Beside him, Sarah was out. It was almost instantaneous from the moment her head hit the pillow.
He knew he should have been able to fall asleep easily. It was his bedroom, after all, the one he’d slept in for eighteen years. Same bed, same pillows, same blankets, same everything. And the same girl he fell asleep with every single night. But it felt weird because of the fact that he used to share that bed with Maria. Sarah knew that, but it didn’t bother her. It didn’t necessarily bother him, either; it was just . . . it was just weird.
As he lay there restlessly, he thought he heard movement out in the hallway. Immediately on alert, he got out of bed and walked to the door, pressing his ear against it to see if he could hear anything. He couldn’t. It was more of a feeling than anything else.
He swung the door open, and lo and behold, there was Nicholas, trying to quietly open the door to Tina’s room.
“Don’t even think about it,” Michael growled, shooting him a threatening glare.
Nicholas quickly closed the door and skittered back towards the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet on the way down. “Sorry,” he apologized frantically. “Sorry.”
Michael rolled his eyes, not fucking amused. As long as this little twerp was spending the night here, he was going to have to play guard dog and keep him out of Tina’s room.
He told his mom about the incident, and she asked Tina about it at breakfast the next morning. Nicholas was still asleep—big fucking surprise—and Sarah was in the shower, so while it was just the three of them, it was the right time to talk about it.
“That can’t happen, Tina,” Krista said. “If you want him to be able to spend the holiday with us, he can’t be doing that.”
“But it’s not fair,” Tina complained. “Michael and Maria used to share a room.”
Michael snorted. “Michael and Maria were eighteen.”
“Yeah, well, Michael and Maria weren’t having a baby together,” she snapped back.
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “My point is, I’m already pregnant. What other trouble can I get into?”
Michael slammed his fist down on the table, growing more and more pissed off with each passing second. “Tina, I’m not even fucking kidding, I will deck that kid if he tries to get in your room again.”
“You just have to follow the rules,” his mom put in, much calmer about the whole thing than he was. “He sleeps on the couch, and that’s that. If at any point Michael or I find out he’s not on the couch, then he has to go home.”
Tina pouted, but reluctantly, she agreed to that condition. “Fine,” she mumbled, scooping up a spoonful of soggy cereal.
Michael shook his head, not convinced that they wouldn’t try it again. Hell, if he was still a fifteen year old boy, that’s what he would have done.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So have you been a good boy this year?” Maria asked her son as she tucked him into bed that night.
“Um . . . I think so,” he answered unsurely.
“You think so?” She got a kick out of that. Dylan was the best son she ever could have hoped for. Although she did dread the day when she could no longer use presents from Santa as a motivation for good behavior. Hopefully he would believe for a long, long time.
“I’m nice at school,” he told her.
“Just at school?” She tickled his sides.
He giggled and added, “Home, too.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty nice,” she agreed. Next semester he’d be a part of that Circle of Friends for the new student in his grade, too. Hopefully he’d be nice to him. “I think you’re gonna get lots of presents.”
“Lots?” His whole eyes lit up with excitement.
“Yeah.” She and Max had definitely gone a little overboard this year. “But you know, you have to be asleep if you wanna get any of them. Santa won’t drop them off if you’re still awake when he comes.”
“Okay, I’m sleepin’,” he declared, shutting his eyes. “Night, Mom.”
“Goodnight,” she said, kissing his cheek. “When you wake up, it’ll be Christmas morning.”
He smiled eagerly, and she knew he was going to have a hard time falling asleep tonight. He always did. Last year, she and Max hadn’t even been able to set out presents until 3:00 in the morning, because that was how long it had taken him to nod off.
When she left Dylan’s room, she nearly ran into Diane as she was coming out of the bathroom. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized.
“No, you’re okay,” Diane said. “I was just brushing my teeth, and I thought I’d call it in early tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Maria said, feeling tired, too. “Thanks for coming.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Diane said. “It’s so nice that you and Max live close now.”
“It is,” she agreed, although being this close to her own mom was . . . sometimes trying.
“Goodnight,” Diane said, giving her a quick hug. “See you in the morning.”
“See you,” Maria said, watching as she slipped into the guest bedroom. In the days leading up to Diane’s arrival this morning, she’d tried to make it look as nice in there as she could by hanging a few cheap paintings on the walls and buying a new bedspread. But the room was pretty small, and pretty sparse. The only other person who had ever slept in it was Liz.
When she went back out to the living room, Max was pulling out the roll-out couch bed for Amy, who was munching away on the sugar cookies Dylan had set out for Santa.
“Maria, I think these needed more sugar,” she remarked. “They’re a little bland.”
“I’m sure Santa doesn’t care,” she said, snatching one up. The moment she bit into it, though, she realized her mom was right. It wasn’t good. She swallowed what was in her mouth and set what remained back down on the plate. “Max, do you wanna take these outside and dump ‘em out?” she asked.
“That bad, huh?” He finished fluffing up the pillows, then came and got the plate and took it outside.
“You know, I don’t understand why Diane gets the guest room and I get the couch bed,” Maria’s mother griped.
“Oh my god,” Maria groaned exasperatedly. “Is it really that big of a deal?”
“I’m just saying . . .”
“Fine, you know what? Max and I can sleep on the couch bed. You can sleep in our room,” Maria offered.
“No, I’m fine out here,” Amy declared.
“But you just said--”
“Maria, I’m fine.”
Maria rolled her eyes, completely annoyed. Sometimes, honestly, she swore her mom would complain about stuff just for the heck of it. It was like a bad habit that she just couldn’t break.
Amy lay down on the bed, and against her better judgment, Maria lay down beside her. She didn’t want a long mother/daughter talk or anything like that. She just wanted . . . maybe some insight, someone else’s opinion. “So what do you think Max got me for Christmas?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” her mother replied, right as Max came back inside. He headed straight down the hall, though, probably to change into his pajamas.
“What do you think he got you?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know.” She’d spotted a couple of wrapped presents in the closet, but they were just regular boxes and bags. Nothing . . . meaningful.
“Do you think maybe he . . .” Amy trailed off, tapping her own ring-less ring finger.
“No,” Maria said quickly, although truthfully, she still wondered if maybe he had. “We haven’t even talked about that yet.”
Her mom sounded almost accusatory when she said, “Well, why not?”
“I don’t know. We just . . . haven’t.” Her cell phone vibrated, interrupting the conversation, and she it out of her pocket and tilted it towards her face to see that she had a new text message. From Michael. It said, tell dylan i said merry xmas.
She smiled, immediately thinking back to the one and only Christmas they’d all spent together. Even though they weren’t spending this one together, it meant a lot that Michael still thought of Dylan.
“Interesting,” her mom said tersely.
Maria covered the screen of her phone a second too late. She knew her mom had looked. “What?” she said innocently. “It’s just a text.”
“Why is he texting you?”
“Because . . .” We’re friends, she wanted to say. But her mom wouldn’t understand that. “He still cares about Dylan.”
“Is that all he cares about?” Amy questioned.
“Okay, just relax, Mom,” Maria said, typing out a quick i will in response to Michael. “Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” She pressed the send button and quickly got up off the couch bed, figuring she wouldn’t have to endure a lecture if she just walked away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael put his phone down on the dusty desk next to his bed and crawled under the covers with Sarah. She snuggled up to him right away and moaned contentedly. “Mmm. You’re so warm.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty hot,” he agreed boastfully, putting his arm around her.
“I can’t believe tomorrow’s Christmas morning,” she said. “I used to have such a hard time falling asleep on Christmas Eve, ‘cause I was just so excited about what Santa was gonna bring me.”
“Oh, I always slept like a rock,” Michael said. “But that’s ‘cause I knew Santa wasn’t real.”
“When did you figure it out?” she asked.
“Like, first grade.”
“What?”
“Yeah, my dad just came right out and said, ‘Santa’s fake. Suck it up.’”
“Oh.” She made a face. “That’s not nice.”
“Yeah, he told Tina the same thing when she was that age.” What a bastard. Most dads were willing to let their kids believe for a while. “What about you?” he asked his girlfriend. “When did you find out?”
“I think I was in fourth grade,” she remembered. “All of a sudden it just dawned on me that Santa wrapped things in the same wrapping paper my mom did, and his handwriting on all the gift tags looked just like hers.”
“So a logical deduction. That’s very you.”
“Yeah, I figured it out. But Victor believed until he was, like, eleven, so I had to keep it a secret for a long time.”
“Yeah.” It didn’t surprise him that Victor hadn’t figured it out sooner. He was sort of sheltered, but there wasn’t necessarily anything wrong with that.
“Mmm,” she purred again, nuzzling her face against his chest. “This is nice.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed, though he’d gladly go down and sleep on that couch if that meant Nicholas went home.
“I kinda like having you up here,” she said. “Even though we can’t do anything with Tina down at one end of the hall and your mom down at the other.”
The minute she said that, he thought back to being in that bed with Maria. Being on top of her, behind her, underneath her, all over her. He remembered the feel of her fingers digging into his shoulders and the sight of her digging her head back into the pillow as she moaned. The location of this bedroom had never stopped them.
Oh god, he thought, sitting up suddenly. He had to get out of that bed.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, standing up. “I’m just kinda hungry. You want anything?”
“No, I’m good,” she said.
“Alright, I’m gonna go get somethin’.” He started for the door.
“I’ll probably be asleep when you come back up,” she told him, her voice quiet.
He stopped at the door, walked back to her, bent down, and kissed her forehead, whispering “Goodnight.” And then he got out of there as fast as he could without looking suspicious.
Trundling downstairs, he tried to shake the memories from his mind, but they were just . . . they were just back. Like full force. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to think of something else, because he always kept coming back to the memories.
Crap, he thought, pacing around the dark kitchen. This was why he’d felt strange about sleeping in that room again. He didn’t want to lie next to Sarah and be thinking about Maria. That wasn’t fair to her.
It’s fine, he told himself. He was hardly the first guy to have thought about an ex-girlfriend, and this was definitely not the first time memories of sex with Maria had invaded his mind. He just had to stay down here for a while until they were all out of his head again. Then he could go back upstairs.
Suddenly, the light turned on, and Michael squinted against its brightness. Nicholas stood next to the switch in a t-shirt and sweatpants that were too big for him. He was a scrawny little son of a bitch, that was for sure.
“What do you want?” Michael growled.
“Nothin’,” Nicholas said. “I just heard you get up and . . . I don’t know, I was kinda hopin’ I could talk to you.”
“No,” Michael grumbled, opening up the refrigerator. No beer in there anymore. Just wine coolers now. Oh, well, better than nothing. He popped one open with the help of a bottle opener and took a swig, hoping Nicholas would get the hint to go away. But the damn kid just kept standing there.
“Please?” Nicholas begged. “Look, I know, you don’t like me . . .”
Michael snorted, nearly laughing. “Right about that.”
“But I really like Tina. I love her.”
Michael shook his head and took another drink. God, this tasted like shit.
“I know I’m young,” Nicholas went on, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter, “but I know what love is. It’s what I feel for Tina.”
“Yeah, you think that now,” Michael muttered skeptically.
“I don’t have a lot of love in my life, you know?” Nicholas lamented. “My dad hates me. My mom likes drugs more than she likes me. But Tina loves me, and I love her.”
Wine cooler in hand, Michael pulled out the stool on the other side of the counter and reluctantly sat down, face to face with this kid whom he constantly wanted to throttle. “Well, let’s hope you still love her after your kid’s born,” he said. “ ‘cause that’s when it’s gonna get harder.”
“I know that,” Nicholas said. “And Tina knows, too. We—we know we made a mistake. She won’t ever say that, but she knows.”
Michael had to admit . . . that was news to him. “Really?” Tina had never really expressed those doubts to him.
“Oh, yeah.” Nicholas sighed, slumping forward over the counter, his head in his hands. “I feel like I really screwed up.”
“Well, you did.” There was no sugarcoating it. Michael wasn’t even going to try.
“And I know . . . you used to screw up a lot,” Nicholas said slowly, quietly, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should mention it.
“What’s your point?”
“Well . . . look at you now. You’re in college, you’re really smart. Your girlfriend’s really pretty. I mean, really pretty.”
“Yeah, easy there, Crawford,” Michael cautioned him.
“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “Sorry. I was just—I was just tryin’ to say, even though you don’t like me, I actually kinda think I’m a lot like you.”
At first, Michael resented the comparison. But when he thought about it . . . fuck, it was pretty accurate.
Nicholas surprised the hell out of him, though, when he averted his eyes and mumbled, “I hope I’m a lot like you.”
Michael narrowed his eyes, studying this kid curiously. Was he just saying this stuff to try to get on his good side? It didn’t seem like it. It actually seemed like he really meant it.
He could have taken another drink, but he slid the wine cooler aside instead. “Look, you just gotta tone it down with my sister,” he said. “Don’t go tryin’ to sneak up into her room at night. Don’t try to make out with her in front of me. I don’t wanna see it.”
“Okay,” Nicholas said, nodding. “Yeah, I get that.”
“And just . . . don’t tell her you’re gonna be there for her and this baby if you really don’t plan on it.” That was the most important thing to Michael. He didn’t want Nicholas getting Tina’s hopes up if was just going to bail on her. Like Max had bailed on Maria.
“No, I am gonna be there,” Nicholas insisted. “I promise. I’m gonna be a good dad.”
“I hope you are,” Michael told him sincerely. Probably the only way he would ever like Nicholas was if he really stepped up to the parental plate.
“I’m gonna be,” Nicholas said again. He sounded confident, but . . . of course he did right now. That baby wasn’t born yet.
“It’s not easy,” Michael told him, thinking back to the bridge. “Trust me.”
Nicholas swallowed hard and nodded. And finally, at long last . . . he just fell quiet.
Michael sat with him, similarly silent. But it was loud inside his head. Loud with the memory of watching Dylan fall backward into that water. Loud with the disappointment of failing to take care of him that night.
Great. Now he had more memories to clear out of his mind.
TBC . . .
-April
And the fact that it was believable really says something.You had me pulled in, I really did think Maria made that drunken confession to Max.
I don't know if it's "blind" so much as it is . . . "trusting." But at what point do these things stop being weird coincidences and start being intentional?More weird coincidences.......just how blind are Max and Sarah
Sara:
And that fine line just seems to be getting even finer.Oh April.....you are letting Michael and Maria walk a very FINE line here.....
I actually agree. I love writing their scenes because they just . . . they just have that spark, and they bring out that spark in each other. They really come alive together, and every conversation kind of has this lingering intensity and passion behind it. But really, they do bring out some not so good qualities in each other, too, which can make it seem like they're regressing rather than progressing sometimes.as much as I love Michael and Maria together, I don't love them together in this story. They have great chemistry but ultimately they aren't good for each other's growth. I hate saying that but I feel like it seems true.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Part 39
“Faster.”
Maria ignored Michael and kept up her steady pace as she sorted the mail into piles for each floor of the Vidorra suites. But when he said it again, it annoyed her.
“Faster.”
She shot him an angry look. “I’m going as fast as I can. I don’t know your system here.”
“That’s why I’m trying to teach you the system,” he said.
“Well, maybe you’re a bad teacher.”
“No, I’m a good teacher,” he said, grinning. “You know that.”
She paused briefly, knowing that he was referencing . . . all the things he’d taught her. About sex. About what she liked to do sexually.
Oh god, she couldn’t think about that.
She resumed sorting the envelopes into piles, but he quickly spotted one that wasn’t right and picked it back up again. “Hold up. This is room 217. You put it in the three-hundreds pile.”
“Oh my god, shame on me. It’s the end of the world,” she said overdramatically, snatching the envelope back from him, putting it in the correct pile.
“It could be,” he said. “What if there was something vitally important in this envelope and the person didn’t get it because you put it in the wrong pile and in the wrong mailbox? You ever think of that?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“Watch it now,” he cautioned. “I’m your boss.”
“No, Brody’s my boss. You’re my coworker.”
“No, technically today I am your boss,” he persisted. That mischievous grin of his reappeared, and he added, “ ‘cause I’m more experienced.”
She shuddered internally as the double meaning of that claim resonated with her. She couldn’t even formulate a response, even though she knew he wasn’t really trying to flirt with her. It was just something that came naturally to him, like breathing. He’d mastered the art form of it and probably didn’t even realize he was doing it right now.
“I get to boss you around,” he declared, obviously loving every second of this. “You gotta do what I say.”
“No, I don’t,” she disagreed.
“Ooh, insubordination. Job strike number one,” he teased.
“Shut up, Michael.”
“Back-talking. That’s number two.”
She swung her hand out and whacked his shoulder playfully.
“Physical harassment!” he yelped, pretending like that had hurt. “Number three right there!”
Despite how much she was acting like she was annoyed . . . she couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. Michael was . . . fun. He always had been.
“So did you know I was gonna get the job?” she asked him as she tried to finish up the mail sorting. It really was taking her longer than it should have, but that was because he was distracting.
“I knew it was between you and one other person,” he said. “Named Buster Cherry.”
“Buster Cherry?” she echoed, her mind immediately misconstruing the sound of it. “That’s hilarious.”
“I know!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I keep saying.”
“Who would name their kid that?”
“Yeah, really. Oh, and look at this guy.” He picked up the top envelope from the first floor pile and read the name of the person it was addressed to. “Miles Long.”
“Oh!” She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s really bad.”
“Actually, I think it’s kinda cool,” he said. “I’d name my kid that.”
“Parents should really think twice,” she said, suddenly wondering if there was any way her own son’s name could be misinterpreted. “There’s nothing that can go wrong with Dylan DeLuca, right? Dylan DeLuca.” It sounded fine to her.
“No, I think he’s safe,” Michael said.
“Good.” She sorted out the last few envelopes, then declared, “There. It’s done.”
“Finally,” he groaned exaggeratedly. “Now you gotta put ‘em in their mailboxes. Fast.”
“Fine.” She grabbed the first floor pile and slipped through a door that led to what Michael called ‘the mailroom.’ It was basically just the small, dimly-lit, cramped space behind the mailboxes. There was barely room for her alone back there, but he came back, too, just so he could supervise and tease her some more.
“Faster,” he urged as she went about her work. “Faster.”
She shot him a quasi-annoyed look, barely managing to keep her smile subdued.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael was in a good mood when he got off work, but he decided to downplay it a little. Even though Sarah was as understanding and secure as a girlfriend could be, he still didn’t see any point in letting her know how much fun he’d had bossing Maria around today.
“Hey,” she said, only briefly glancing up from her laptop. “How was work?”
“It was good,” he replied, kicking off his shoes.
“How’d Maria do?”
“Pretty well.” He leaned over the back of the couch and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Cramming?” he noted.
“No, not at all. In fact, I’m totally prepared,” she proclaimed, closing the laptop.
“Oh, are you now?”
“Yes.” She set the computer aside on the coffee table and stood up. Stretching, she inquired, “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m gonna ace ‘em all,” he predicted.
“Even your music one?”
“Uh-huh.” He still had to do a little studying for that one, but luckily it wasn’t until Thursday. He had time.
“What about your psychology paper?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “about that . . . I was kinda hopin’ you might--”
“Proofread it?” she cut in knowingly.
“Yeah.”
She stepped up onto the couch, about eye level with him now, and said, “I suppose,” as she fell against him.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “You’re the best.” His hands, out of habit, started creeping up underneath her shirt, but she pulled back slightly as they did so.
“Uh-uh, don’t get too carried away,” she said.
“Why not?” He wanted to.
Just as he said that, there was a knock at the door.
“Because our friends are here,” she said, hopping down off the couch.
Right, he thought. They were having a movie night or something; Sarah had wanted a night to take the edge off of finals week. A night full of sex would have been just fine with him, but this would be alright, too.
When she opened the door, it was only Tess standing there, and she didn’t look happy.
“Hey,” Sarah greeted. “Where’s Kyle?”
“He’s coming,” Tess mumbled, slipping inside. She went straight to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator. Michael thought about making some kind of pregnancy joke about food cravings, but then he figured it was probably in his best interest not to.
Sarah waited at the door, and Kyle came in a few seconds later. He was walking slowly, but he didn’t even have his cane. And he actually looked clean-shaven and not so much like he’d been laying on the couch all day.
“Kyle, you look nice,” Sarah remarked.
“Thanks,” he said, patting his stomach. “Trying to lose some weight.”
Even though he still looked heavier than he ought to have been, Michael did feel like he looked a little more like his old self. And that was refreshing.
Apparently Tess wasn’t impressed, though, because, with an unopened pudding cup in hand, she grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her into the bathroom without a word.
“Whoa,” Michael said, kicking the front door shut. “If we hear that shower start up, we’re goin’ in there. That could be hot.”
“Ah, she’s mad at me,” Kyle said. “We got in an argument on the way here.”
“About what?”
“I don’t even know. It’s so hard to follow her train of thought right now,” Kyle lamented. “She’s all over the place.”
“Well, she’s pregnant,” Michael pointed out. Pregnant women generally weren’t known for rational thinking.
“I wasn’t even mad at her,” Kyle said, “so I don’t know why we argued.”
“What set her off?” There had to be something, even if it wasn’t something big. Girls did that; they took one small little issue or little word and blew it up into this whole big thing.
“I told her I think we should go ahead and get married,” Kyle revealed.
Michael grunted. “About time.”
“No, but she just freaked out. She started cryin’ and yellin’ at me.”
“What?” Michael didn’t get it. He knew Kyle had gotten into the habit of saying some pretty dumbass shit over these past few years, but what the hell was wrong with this?
“She said it pissed her off that I would even mention it right now, ‘cause she thinks the only reason I wanna marry her is ‘cause she’s pregnant.”
“Well . . .” In a way, Michael could kind of understand where she was going with that.
“No, but that’s not the only reason,” Kyle clarified. “I mean, did finding out that I’m gonna be a father light a fire under my butt? Yeah, it spurs me on. But we’ve been engaged for a while. I know I should’ve married her a long time ago. This pregnancy just, you know, gets us back on track with that.”
Michael didn’t want to deflate his best friend too much, but it seemed to him that he and Tess were about as off track as they’d ever been. And maybe they needed to reconnect before marriage was a feasible possibility.
“Well, it’ll all work out,” Michael assured him. Even if their relationship was hanging by a thread . . . at least that thread hadn’t snapped completely.
“I don’t know,” Kyle muttered skeptically. “I’m really trying; I really am. But I feel like I’m fucked either way. And honestly, at this point, bro, I’d be shocked if she even lets this kid have my last name.”
Michael frowned, because hearing that made him think of Dylan, and the circumstance that had led to his last name being DeLuca rather than Evans. Tess and Kyle were going through a rough patch, sure, but Kyle wasn’t like Max. He wasn’t abandoning Tess, leaving her to raise this child on her own. If Tess didn’t start to understand that, Michael was going to start to get pissed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sarah didn’t know what to do to calm Tess down. The girl was just a hysterical wreck. She’d barely made it in the bathroom before she sat down on the floor, leaning back against the door, and started sobbing. And she hadn’t let up.
Sarah reached up on top of the back of the toilet and grabbed another handful of tissues out of the box, handing them to her friend. “Tess, I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I could say something to make you feel better.”
Tess shrugged hopelessly, wiping off her cheeks. “That’s just it: Nothing makes me feel better,” she cried. “Being pregnant is so crazy, Sarah. It’s like I wake up every day feeling one way, and then I go to bed feeling completely different. And I’m so hormonal, anything can set me off.”
“Like Kyle?” Sarah guessed.
“Yes! And I mean, I know he was just trying to do the right thing when he said we should get married, and I didn’t mean to bite his head off about it, and part of me still really does wanna marry him, but the other part of me just worries that he doesn’t really love me anymore, and I’m so freaking out here!”
“Okay, okay,” Sarah said softly, trying to interject a calming tone into her best friend’s emotional rant. “So you’re freaking out. That’s okay. That’s normal. But look at Kyle. I’ve never seen him seen him try so hard to be . . .” She trailed off, looking for the right word. “Better.”
Tess sniffled, nodding sadly. “He is doing better,” Tess acknowledged. “I think this baby’s really giving him motivation.”
“See? That’s great.”
More tears fell from Tess’s eyes, and she didn’t wipe them away this time. “I just worry,” she said. “What if it’s just temporary? What if we never really recapture what we used to have?”
“Well . . .” Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll never know unless you try.”
Tess exhaled shakily, nodding, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the tissues. She still didn’t look completely calm to Sarah, but maybe she would be if they just sat in there for a little while longer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Finals week started for Sarah right away on Monday, but Michael didn’t have an exam that day. So he studied with Maria at work, purposefully answering questions wrong at first while she quizzed him, just so he’d be able to see that stunned look on her face when he started answering them right. The fact that he was a good student now seemed to infuriate her just as much as it made her proud.
When Tuesday rolled around, it was time to turn in the paper Sarah had proofread for him and take his final exam for Social Psychology on top of it. He knew all the answers like the back of his hand. Self-efficacy. Empathy. Superego. Id.
He had an exam for his other psychology class, too, but instead of being multiple choice, it was a persuasive essay. There were three questions, and he only had to choose one to answer. He chose Does exposure to adult sexual behavior harm children? Because all he had to do was think about Tina, and the paragraphs just flowed onto the page.
On Wednesday, he completed the last day of his practicum at Pound. Vanessa signed off on all his paperwork and wished him a happy holiday, but there was really no need to say goodbye. Even though he wouldn’t be her student next semester, he’d still be there, and if this Jake kid was as high-maintenance as everyone said he was, he’d be working with her a lot.
After managing to squeeze in one more study session with Maria, it was time for his last final of the semester in Music Appreciation. Once he was done with that test, he’d be done with everything, officially on Christmas break.
He had to move one seat down so that there was an empty space in between him and Maria during the final. But he was still close enough that he could look at her and smile when the TA set their exam booklets down in front of them. He wanted her to do well, and he knew she would if she didn’t second-guess herself.
He finished the test quickly and glanced over at her to gauge her progress. She definitely wasn’t zipping through it like him, but she didn’t seem frazzled by any of the questions. She darkened the ovals on her answer sheet slowly and deliberately, and he really had no choice but to get up and hand in his test. He couldn’t very well wait in the lecture hall for her after that, so he waited right outside the door instead.
When she emerged, she looked confident. “Hey, you didn’t have to wait,” she said.
He shrugged. No big deal. He didn’t have anything going on today. “So how do you think you did?” he asked her.
“I think I did really well,” she said. “Let me guess: You aced it.”
He smirked. “Always do.”
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being such a good student.”
“I know, it’s weird,” he agreed. At least he was still a back-of-the-class kid. In this class, at least. They both were.
Together, they walked down the hallway, her questioning, “So are you heading home tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow or Saturday,” he said. It really depended on when Sarah finished her last final. “What about you?”
“My mom and Max’s mom are both coming to our house this year,” she replied.
“Oh.” He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Maria’s mom . . . she was a real pill. And Diane Evans wasn’t exactly a huge fan of his, either.
“And Max invited Isabel, too.”
Michael snorted. “Good.”
“Good?” she echoed incredulously.
“Yeah, it’s about time he steps up and actually does something for his sister.”
Just like she always did, she immediately jumped to his defense. “He just distances himself from her because he doesn’t wanna get caught up in any of the shady stuff she’s involved in.”
“But I thought he was such a changed guy, remember?”
“Michael . . .” She shot him a warning look, and he knew he had to shut up.
“Fine.” He could get in some more jabs at Max after Christmas break. “So what else you got planned?”
“Uh, nothing much,” she said as they walked outside. Then she groaned. “Ugh, next Saturday we this holiday basketball tournament.”
“Fuck basketball,” he grumbled. “It’s a lame sport.”
“Well, Dylan’s getting pretty good at it,” she said. “He must’ve gotten all his athleticism from Max, ‘cause he sure as hell didn’t get any from me.”
Even though it was stupid, and even though it didn’t really matter, Michael just had to ask, “He still likes football better, right?”
She looked up at him and quietly said, “Yeah. It’s his favorite.”
Michael’s chest swelled with pride for a moment, and he smiled inwardly. Because it was nice to know that Dylan hadn’t gotten everything from Max.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It ended up being Saturday before Michael and Sarah hit the road for Roswell, just two days before Christmas. They were among the last students to leave, except for the international students, who all had to be relocated to one dorm over break.
From the moment they walked in the front door, they were basically ignored by Tina, because all her attention was on the dog. “Shango!” she exclaimed, struggling to bend down with her ever-rounded stomach in the way. He was still light enough for her to pick up, though, and when she did, he immediately went crazy trying to lick her face.
“Watch out for him,” Michael cautioned. “He’s goin’ through a horny phase.”
“Ew,” Tina said. “What?”
“Yeah, he humps everything in sight.” Truth be told, it kind of made Michael proud, though, to know that his dog had a healthy libido.
“I keep saying we should get him neutered,” Sarah said.
“No, I’m not gonna do that to my dog,” Michael protested. “Strip away his masculinity? Forget about it. Listen, Tina, if he starts, it’s best to just let him finish.”
Making a face, she set Shango back down again.
“We need to discipline him more then,” Sarah decided.
“He’s fine,” Michael insisted.
“No, he’s not. Remember the other night? I thought Tess’s leg was gonna come right off.”
Michael chuckled at the memory of that horrified look on Tess’s face. “That was funny.”
“Not to her.”
“Fine, we’ll get him one of those big teddy bears then,” Michael proposed. “And any time he feels like it, he can just get that bear and . . . you know . . . do this thing.” There. That was a simple enough solution.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Tina said. “Cats have scratching posts. Shango can have a hump bear.”
“See?” It was a genius solution, and Michael was proud of himself for coming up with it.
“Whatever,” Sarah mumbled. “Where’s your mom at?”
“Oh, she just had to run out to get a few last-minute gifts,” Tina replied. “She’ll be back soon, though.”
“Good,” Michael said. He didn’t like the thought of Tina being here alone, because who the hell knew what kind of shit she could get into when she was unsupervised.
“Michael!” Sarah yelped suddenly, pointing into the living room. “Look.” Shango was sniffing around the Christmas tree, poised as if he were about to lift his leg and pee on the tree skirt.
“Dammit,” he swore, rushing to his dog. He scooped him up and hurried him outside.
Once they were out there, of course, Shango miraculously didn’t have to pee anymore. He just wandered around the front lawn, sniffing aimlessly. Michael stayed out there with him, though, because he didn’t want him to run off.
Tina stepped outside wearing a big, oversized black jacket that he recognized as his dad’s. It had the name of his construction company up by the left shoulder, and it was more than a little well-worn.
“So are we gonna have a good Christmas?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “You tell me.” He was going to try to get along with her as well as she could, but if she channeled her teenage-bitch mode and said something to set him off . . . well, he’d never been one to bite his tongue.
“No, you tell me,” she said. “I wanna have a good Christmas.”
“So do I.” This was the last one that would be normal for her. Next year at this time, she’d have a kid, and her life would be a lot harder than it was now. But she still didn’t know that yet.
She sighed, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, looking down at her feet. She mumbled something that sounded like, “Mom invited Nicholas over,” but . . . no. There was no way that could possibly be right.
“What?” he said.
She lifted her head and said it louder. “Mom invited Nicholas over. He’s coming tonight.”
Michael bristled, wondering if there was some sort of punch line coming. Because this had to be a joke. It had to be. “Are you kidding me?” he spat.
Her serious facial expression didn’t change one bit. “No.”
He stared at her in disbelief, about to lose his cool. Because apparently his mom had lost her mind.
When she got home, he wasted no time pulling her into the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Tina in the living room to play with Shango and try to keep him away from that tree. He confronted her about this ridiculous, insane idea right away, because he wanted to put an end to it.
“Why the hell would you invite him over?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice down.
“It wasn’t a decision I made in two seconds, okay?” she assured him. “But Michael . . . he comes from a rough home.”
Like ours, he thought bitterly.
“He lives in a trailer park,” she went on, “with his dad, who’s an unemployed, abusive alcoholic.”
“Hmm, sounds familiar,” he grumbled.
“But he’s physically abusive, Michael. He came over to see Tina the other day, and he had a huge black eye. I felt horrible.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” Michael agreed. His dad hadn’t been abusive, but they’d gotten into a fist fight a time or two. He didn’t wish that on anyone. “But that doesn’t mean you should invite him to spend Christmas with us.”
“Michael, as much as we may hate to accept this, Tina is having a child with this boy. In a couple months, they are gonna be parents, and I think trying to keep them apart might do more harm than good.”
Michael groaned, shaking his head. “He’s not part of this family.”
“Well, whether we like it or not, he’s starting a family with her,” she said. “So maybe we need to make room for him.”
Michael clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to kick a chair or punch a wall or something. “Where’s he gonna sleep?”
“On the couch.”
“Then where am I gonna sleep?”
“In your room, with Sarah. I figured you wouldn’t mind that.”
In his room? He hadn’t slept in there for years. Whenever he came to Roswell, Sarah was with him, and she took the room and he took the couch. But now they had to make room for fucking Nicholas.
“This is bullshit,” he swore. “I don’t like this, Mom.”
“I know you don’t,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “but please try to stay calm about it. I want us to have a nice Christmas. And Sarah’s here. You don’t wanna make her feel uncomfortable, do you?”
“No, Sarah knows how I feel about Nicholas,” he mumbled.
“Just tone down the hostility,” she requested. “It’s Christmas.”
Yeah, a time for miracles, he thought grumpily. He was going to need a miracle to survive these next few days at home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel was halfway asleep on the couch when she felt a presence near her. She opened her tired eyes and saw Jesse standing over her, holding a mistletoe above her head.
“Hey, baby,” he said, bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Mmm,” she moaned, moving around a bit. She stretched out her limbs, then curled her legs up to make room for him to sit down. “Where’d you go tonight?” she asked.
“Just out with Eric and Courtney,” he answered. “They’re still out.”
“Where’d they go?” she asked, draping her legs over his lap.
He chuckled. “You don’t wanna know.”
“What, like an orgy or something?”
“Yeah.”
She frowned. “And you went with them?” Jesse went out without her sometimes—that wasn’t unusual. But sometimes she worried that he’d hook up with someone when she wasn’t there.
“I didn’t do anything,” he promised. “A couple girls there recognized me from the site, but . . . nothing happened.”
“Good.” Maybe their relationship was unconventional, but at least she knew she could trust him.
“So . . .” he said, massaging her calves. “My mom’s gonna come visit tomorrow.”
“Is she?” She hadn’t been aware of that. Jesse’s mom lived in Miami, so usually they just talked on the phone for the holidays.
“I’m flyin’ her out,” he said. “We haven’t spent Christmas together in years.”
“That’ll be nice,” she said. Jesse and his mom had a good, solid relationship. She knew about the website and all the videos, but she didn’t judge him for it. She just loved him unconditionally.
“I told Courtney and Eric they gotta be on their best behavior,” he said. “And you, too.”
“I’m always on my best behavior.” She grinned.
He laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“I won’t be here on Christmas Day, though,” she reminded him. “I’m going to Max’s.”
“To Max’s?” he echoed.
“Yeah. Remember?” She’d told him over a week ago, mentioned it multiple times.
“I forgot about that,” he said. “Hmm. You sure you don’t wanna just stay here?”
Oh, she was sure. She was very sure. She had nothing against Jesse’s mom, even though she’d never met her. They’d spoken over the phone a couple times, and she seemed like a nice woman. But spending Christmas with her just wasn’t a substitute for spending it with her own mom. “I have to go,” she said.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“But I want to,” she clarified. “I miss Max, and I miss my mom.”
“But you and your mom don’t even talk anymore,” he said.
“Exactly.” This was going to be their chance to do just that. “I’ll be here tomorrow night,” she promised. “So I’ll see your mom then.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Well, listen . . .” He maneuvered so that he was practically lying on top of her, his body warm and heavy against hers. “If things don’t go the way you hope with your brother and your mom, you just come home to the people who really love you, okay?”
She frowned. What was he insinuating, that her mom didn’t love her anymore? Maybe they didn’t speak, but that didn’t mean . . . that didn’t mean the love was gone. It had to still be in there somewhere.
“Jesse . . .” She wanted to tell him that that had kind of hurt her feelings, but before she could, he held up that mistletoe again and silenced her with a kiss.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sleep wasn’t coming easy that night. Not to Michael, at least. Beside him, Sarah was out. It was almost instantaneous from the moment her head hit the pillow.
He knew he should have been able to fall asleep easily. It was his bedroom, after all, the one he’d slept in for eighteen years. Same bed, same pillows, same blankets, same everything. And the same girl he fell asleep with every single night. But it felt weird because of the fact that he used to share that bed with Maria. Sarah knew that, but it didn’t bother her. It didn’t necessarily bother him, either; it was just . . . it was just weird.
As he lay there restlessly, he thought he heard movement out in the hallway. Immediately on alert, he got out of bed and walked to the door, pressing his ear against it to see if he could hear anything. He couldn’t. It was more of a feeling than anything else.
He swung the door open, and lo and behold, there was Nicholas, trying to quietly open the door to Tina’s room.
“Don’t even think about it,” Michael growled, shooting him a threatening glare.
Nicholas quickly closed the door and skittered back towards the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet on the way down. “Sorry,” he apologized frantically. “Sorry.”
Michael rolled his eyes, not fucking amused. As long as this little twerp was spending the night here, he was going to have to play guard dog and keep him out of Tina’s room.
He told his mom about the incident, and she asked Tina about it at breakfast the next morning. Nicholas was still asleep—big fucking surprise—and Sarah was in the shower, so while it was just the three of them, it was the right time to talk about it.
“That can’t happen, Tina,” Krista said. “If you want him to be able to spend the holiday with us, he can’t be doing that.”
“But it’s not fair,” Tina complained. “Michael and Maria used to share a room.”
Michael snorted. “Michael and Maria were eighteen.”
“Yeah, well, Michael and Maria weren’t having a baby together,” she snapped back.
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “My point is, I’m already pregnant. What other trouble can I get into?”
Michael slammed his fist down on the table, growing more and more pissed off with each passing second. “Tina, I’m not even fucking kidding, I will deck that kid if he tries to get in your room again.”
“You just have to follow the rules,” his mom put in, much calmer about the whole thing than he was. “He sleeps on the couch, and that’s that. If at any point Michael or I find out he’s not on the couch, then he has to go home.”
Tina pouted, but reluctantly, she agreed to that condition. “Fine,” she mumbled, scooping up a spoonful of soggy cereal.
Michael shook his head, not convinced that they wouldn’t try it again. Hell, if he was still a fifteen year old boy, that’s what he would have done.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So have you been a good boy this year?” Maria asked her son as she tucked him into bed that night.
“Um . . . I think so,” he answered unsurely.
“You think so?” She got a kick out of that. Dylan was the best son she ever could have hoped for. Although she did dread the day when she could no longer use presents from Santa as a motivation for good behavior. Hopefully he would believe for a long, long time.
“I’m nice at school,” he told her.
“Just at school?” She tickled his sides.
He giggled and added, “Home, too.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty nice,” she agreed. Next semester he’d be a part of that Circle of Friends for the new student in his grade, too. Hopefully he’d be nice to him. “I think you’re gonna get lots of presents.”
“Lots?” His whole eyes lit up with excitement.
“Yeah.” She and Max had definitely gone a little overboard this year. “But you know, you have to be asleep if you wanna get any of them. Santa won’t drop them off if you’re still awake when he comes.”
“Okay, I’m sleepin’,” he declared, shutting his eyes. “Night, Mom.”
“Goodnight,” she said, kissing his cheek. “When you wake up, it’ll be Christmas morning.”
He smiled eagerly, and she knew he was going to have a hard time falling asleep tonight. He always did. Last year, she and Max hadn’t even been able to set out presents until 3:00 in the morning, because that was how long it had taken him to nod off.
When she left Dylan’s room, she nearly ran into Diane as she was coming out of the bathroom. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized.
“No, you’re okay,” Diane said. “I was just brushing my teeth, and I thought I’d call it in early tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Maria said, feeling tired, too. “Thanks for coming.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Diane said. “It’s so nice that you and Max live close now.”
“It is,” she agreed, although being this close to her own mom was . . . sometimes trying.
“Goodnight,” Diane said, giving her a quick hug. “See you in the morning.”
“See you,” Maria said, watching as she slipped into the guest bedroom. In the days leading up to Diane’s arrival this morning, she’d tried to make it look as nice in there as she could by hanging a few cheap paintings on the walls and buying a new bedspread. But the room was pretty small, and pretty sparse. The only other person who had ever slept in it was Liz.
When she went back out to the living room, Max was pulling out the roll-out couch bed for Amy, who was munching away on the sugar cookies Dylan had set out for Santa.
“Maria, I think these needed more sugar,” she remarked. “They’re a little bland.”
“I’m sure Santa doesn’t care,” she said, snatching one up. The moment she bit into it, though, she realized her mom was right. It wasn’t good. She swallowed what was in her mouth and set what remained back down on the plate. “Max, do you wanna take these outside and dump ‘em out?” she asked.
“That bad, huh?” He finished fluffing up the pillows, then came and got the plate and took it outside.
“You know, I don’t understand why Diane gets the guest room and I get the couch bed,” Maria’s mother griped.
“Oh my god,” Maria groaned exasperatedly. “Is it really that big of a deal?”
“I’m just saying . . .”
“Fine, you know what? Max and I can sleep on the couch bed. You can sleep in our room,” Maria offered.
“No, I’m fine out here,” Amy declared.
“But you just said--”
“Maria, I’m fine.”
Maria rolled her eyes, completely annoyed. Sometimes, honestly, she swore her mom would complain about stuff just for the heck of it. It was like a bad habit that she just couldn’t break.
Amy lay down on the bed, and against her better judgment, Maria lay down beside her. She didn’t want a long mother/daughter talk or anything like that. She just wanted . . . maybe some insight, someone else’s opinion. “So what do you think Max got me for Christmas?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” her mother replied, right as Max came back inside. He headed straight down the hall, though, probably to change into his pajamas.
“What do you think he got you?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know.” She’d spotted a couple of wrapped presents in the closet, but they were just regular boxes and bags. Nothing . . . meaningful.
“Do you think maybe he . . .” Amy trailed off, tapping her own ring-less ring finger.
“No,” Maria said quickly, although truthfully, she still wondered if maybe he had. “We haven’t even talked about that yet.”
Her mom sounded almost accusatory when she said, “Well, why not?”
“I don’t know. We just . . . haven’t.” Her cell phone vibrated, interrupting the conversation, and she it out of her pocket and tilted it towards her face to see that she had a new text message. From Michael. It said, tell dylan i said merry xmas.
She smiled, immediately thinking back to the one and only Christmas they’d all spent together. Even though they weren’t spending this one together, it meant a lot that Michael still thought of Dylan.
“Interesting,” her mom said tersely.
Maria covered the screen of her phone a second too late. She knew her mom had looked. “What?” she said innocently. “It’s just a text.”
“Why is he texting you?”
“Because . . .” We’re friends, she wanted to say. But her mom wouldn’t understand that. “He still cares about Dylan.”
“Is that all he cares about?” Amy questioned.
“Okay, just relax, Mom,” Maria said, typing out a quick i will in response to Michael. “Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” She pressed the send button and quickly got up off the couch bed, figuring she wouldn’t have to endure a lecture if she just walked away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael put his phone down on the dusty desk next to his bed and crawled under the covers with Sarah. She snuggled up to him right away and moaned contentedly. “Mmm. You’re so warm.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty hot,” he agreed boastfully, putting his arm around her.
“I can’t believe tomorrow’s Christmas morning,” she said. “I used to have such a hard time falling asleep on Christmas Eve, ‘cause I was just so excited about what Santa was gonna bring me.”
“Oh, I always slept like a rock,” Michael said. “But that’s ‘cause I knew Santa wasn’t real.”
“When did you figure it out?” she asked.
“Like, first grade.”
“What?”
“Yeah, my dad just came right out and said, ‘Santa’s fake. Suck it up.’”
“Oh.” She made a face. “That’s not nice.”
“Yeah, he told Tina the same thing when she was that age.” What a bastard. Most dads were willing to let their kids believe for a while. “What about you?” he asked his girlfriend. “When did you find out?”
“I think I was in fourth grade,” she remembered. “All of a sudden it just dawned on me that Santa wrapped things in the same wrapping paper my mom did, and his handwriting on all the gift tags looked just like hers.”
“So a logical deduction. That’s very you.”
“Yeah, I figured it out. But Victor believed until he was, like, eleven, so I had to keep it a secret for a long time.”
“Yeah.” It didn’t surprise him that Victor hadn’t figured it out sooner. He was sort of sheltered, but there wasn’t necessarily anything wrong with that.
“Mmm,” she purred again, nuzzling her face against his chest. “This is nice.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed, though he’d gladly go down and sleep on that couch if that meant Nicholas went home.
“I kinda like having you up here,” she said. “Even though we can’t do anything with Tina down at one end of the hall and your mom down at the other.”
The minute she said that, he thought back to being in that bed with Maria. Being on top of her, behind her, underneath her, all over her. He remembered the feel of her fingers digging into his shoulders and the sight of her digging her head back into the pillow as she moaned. The location of this bedroom had never stopped them.
Oh god, he thought, sitting up suddenly. He had to get out of that bed.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, standing up. “I’m just kinda hungry. You want anything?”
“No, I’m good,” she said.
“Alright, I’m gonna go get somethin’.” He started for the door.
“I’ll probably be asleep when you come back up,” she told him, her voice quiet.
He stopped at the door, walked back to her, bent down, and kissed her forehead, whispering “Goodnight.” And then he got out of there as fast as he could without looking suspicious.
Trundling downstairs, he tried to shake the memories from his mind, but they were just . . . they were just back. Like full force. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to think of something else, because he always kept coming back to the memories.
Crap, he thought, pacing around the dark kitchen. This was why he’d felt strange about sleeping in that room again. He didn’t want to lie next to Sarah and be thinking about Maria. That wasn’t fair to her.
It’s fine, he told himself. He was hardly the first guy to have thought about an ex-girlfriend, and this was definitely not the first time memories of sex with Maria had invaded his mind. He just had to stay down here for a while until they were all out of his head again. Then he could go back upstairs.
Suddenly, the light turned on, and Michael squinted against its brightness. Nicholas stood next to the switch in a t-shirt and sweatpants that were too big for him. He was a scrawny little son of a bitch, that was for sure.
“What do you want?” Michael growled.
“Nothin’,” Nicholas said. “I just heard you get up and . . . I don’t know, I was kinda hopin’ I could talk to you.”
“No,” Michael grumbled, opening up the refrigerator. No beer in there anymore. Just wine coolers now. Oh, well, better than nothing. He popped one open with the help of a bottle opener and took a swig, hoping Nicholas would get the hint to go away. But the damn kid just kept standing there.
“Please?” Nicholas begged. “Look, I know, you don’t like me . . .”
Michael snorted, nearly laughing. “Right about that.”
“But I really like Tina. I love her.”
Michael shook his head and took another drink. God, this tasted like shit.
“I know I’m young,” Nicholas went on, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter, “but I know what love is. It’s what I feel for Tina.”
“Yeah, you think that now,” Michael muttered skeptically.
“I don’t have a lot of love in my life, you know?” Nicholas lamented. “My dad hates me. My mom likes drugs more than she likes me. But Tina loves me, and I love her.”
Wine cooler in hand, Michael pulled out the stool on the other side of the counter and reluctantly sat down, face to face with this kid whom he constantly wanted to throttle. “Well, let’s hope you still love her after your kid’s born,” he said. “ ‘cause that’s when it’s gonna get harder.”
“I know that,” Nicholas said. “And Tina knows, too. We—we know we made a mistake. She won’t ever say that, but she knows.”
Michael had to admit . . . that was news to him. “Really?” Tina had never really expressed those doubts to him.
“Oh, yeah.” Nicholas sighed, slumping forward over the counter, his head in his hands. “I feel like I really screwed up.”
“Well, you did.” There was no sugarcoating it. Michael wasn’t even going to try.
“And I know . . . you used to screw up a lot,” Nicholas said slowly, quietly, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should mention it.
“What’s your point?”
“Well . . . look at you now. You’re in college, you’re really smart. Your girlfriend’s really pretty. I mean, really pretty.”
“Yeah, easy there, Crawford,” Michael cautioned him.
“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “Sorry. I was just—I was just tryin’ to say, even though you don’t like me, I actually kinda think I’m a lot like you.”
At first, Michael resented the comparison. But when he thought about it . . . fuck, it was pretty accurate.
Nicholas surprised the hell out of him, though, when he averted his eyes and mumbled, “I hope I’m a lot like you.”
Michael narrowed his eyes, studying this kid curiously. Was he just saying this stuff to try to get on his good side? It didn’t seem like it. It actually seemed like he really meant it.
He could have taken another drink, but he slid the wine cooler aside instead. “Look, you just gotta tone it down with my sister,” he said. “Don’t go tryin’ to sneak up into her room at night. Don’t try to make out with her in front of me. I don’t wanna see it.”
“Okay,” Nicholas said, nodding. “Yeah, I get that.”
“And just . . . don’t tell her you’re gonna be there for her and this baby if you really don’t plan on it.” That was the most important thing to Michael. He didn’t want Nicholas getting Tina’s hopes up if was just going to bail on her. Like Max had bailed on Maria.
“No, I am gonna be there,” Nicholas insisted. “I promise. I’m gonna be a good dad.”
“I hope you are,” Michael told him sincerely. Probably the only way he would ever like Nicholas was if he really stepped up to the parental plate.
“I’m gonna be,” Nicholas said again. He sounded confident, but . . . of course he did right now. That baby wasn’t born yet.
“It’s not easy,” Michael told him, thinking back to the bridge. “Trust me.”
Nicholas swallowed hard and nodded. And finally, at long last . . . he just fell quiet.
Michael sat with him, similarly silent. But it was loud inside his head. Loud with the memory of watching Dylan fall backward into that water. Loud with the disappointment of failing to take care of him that night.
Great. Now he had more memories to clear out of his mind.
TBC . . .
-April
LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
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sarammlover
- Addicted Roswellian
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 39, 09/11/16
I do think Nicholas will end up being ok. And maybe once the baby is born, he can move in with Tina and Krista and raise the baby in a healthy HAPPY non-abusive home. And I have a feeling you are going to break this Sara's and that Sarah's hearts......so sad. My heart still aches for Tess and Kyle but hopefully they are on a healthier path now....hopefully. Great update!!!!!
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keepsmiling7
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 39, 09/11/16
good part,
but it wasn't the happiest of Christmas's for many concerned.
Thanks,
Carolyn
but it wasn't the happiest of Christmas's for many concerned.
Thanks,
Carolyn
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April
- Roswell Fanatic
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- Contact:
Part 40
Sara:
Carolyn:
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Part 40
“Merry Christmas!” Liz exclaimed when Maria opened the door.
Maria’s focus was immediately on Scarlet, who was wearing the cutest velvet red dress with white tights and black shoes. Liz had put a red flower headband in her hair, too, so she looked like one of those beauty pageant babies. “Oh my god, look at her. She’s so cute,” Maria raved.
“I know, I love dressing her up,” Liz said as she came inside. “It’s like dressing up a little doll.”
“Aw.” Maria squeezed Scarlet’s soft little hands and said, “Hi, Scarlet.”
The little girl gurgled out something that sounded like ‘hi’ in response.
“Oh, look who’s here!” Diane called excitedly from the living room.
“Hi, Diane,” Liz said, waving at her. She set Scarlet down and said, “Go see Grandma,” and though Scarlet did waddle forward, she went straight to her daddy instead. Max picked her up and hugged her, surveyed what she was wearing, and immediately took off her headband.
“Put that back on,” Liz told him. “It’s festive.”
Max didn’t need to be told twice.
“Well, perfect timing,” Maria told Liz as she took her coat from her. “We just started opening presents.”
“Shoot, mine are out in the car,” Liz said. “I’ll go get ‘em.” She turned to head back out, but then she quickly swiveled back and said, “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Alex to swing by today, too.”
“Oh.” With all these guests, their kitchen table was going to be pretty crowded, but she figured they could squeeze in one more. “Yeah, that’s fine. I think we’ll have plenty of food.” Both her mom and Diane had brought plenty to eat, which was great for Maria, because it meant she’d hardly have to cook anything.
“He’s just been so down in the dumps these past couple weeks,” Liz said. “I think he was planning on spending today with Leanna and her family, but . . . obviously that got shot to hell.”
“Obviously.”
“And his parents moved to Vermont last year, so it’s not like he can just drive home. I felt so bad for him, ‘cause when I asked him what he was gonna do today, he was like, ‘Oh, I don’t know, I’ll probably just watch Rudolph on repeat.’”
“Yeah, he needs to be around people,” Maria agreed. Rudolph was fine to watch once a year, but no more than that. “Oh . . .” She cringed, remembering that there was one other guest who hadn’t shown up yet. “Does he know that Isabel’s gonna be here?”
“No,” Liz said, biting her bottom lip nervously.
Maria sighed. “Oh, well. Let’s just hope it goes off without a hitch then.”
Liz crossed her fingers hopefully.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel listened to Christmas music on the drive from her place to Max’s. She was totally in the holiday spirit, because Jesse’s mom had given her a hand-knitted red and white sweater dress as a present. It wasn’t ugly, though; it was actually well-made and cute, especially with the black leggings and boots she’d paired it with. Yes, she certainly looked Christmas-y, and she felt Christmas-y, too, so hopefully today would be Christmas-y. The way it used to be.
There were four cars in the driveway and parked along the street in front of Max’s house when she got there, and getting out of one of them was, much to her surprise, Alex. She parked quickly and got out as well. “Alex!” she called.
He spun to face her, looking similarly surprised. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked.
She smiled, happy to see a semi-friendly face. “I was invited.”
“So was I,” he said.
Her heart started to speed up, because this day had just gotten a whole lot better. Her mom and Alex on Christmas day? What an amazing opportunity to work on patching things up with two people she’d mistakenly alienated over the years.
She was about to just follow Alex inside when she remembered to get the gifts for Dylan, Max, and her mom out of the passenger’s seat, as well as the cookies she’d made. They were just plain sugar cookies, but she’d spent hours decorating all of them, and they actually looked really professionally made.
When she went inside, the first thing she saw was that Liz was there. Which was sort of a bummer, because she and Alex were already hugging, and Scarlet was hugging his leg, and they all looked sort of . . . cozy. But when she turned her attention away from that, there was her mom, sitting next to Maria’s mom on the couch. She had this stunned look on her face, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
She set the gift bags down on the floor and said, “Hi, everyone,” smiling and waving. They all just sat there and stared, though. It was like they didn’t know what to say to her. Of all people to speak up, it was finally Dylan who said, “Hi,” and waved back before tearing the wrapping paper off of a box that was nearly his size. That at least got Max off his ass, and he approached her to give her a tentative hug.
“Thanks for coming,” he said as quiet conversation resumed in the living room.
“Thanks for having me,” she responded politely, although now that she was here . . . she felt sort of uncomfortable. “I made cookies.”
He took the plate from her and said, “That’s great. The ones we made turned out awful, so . . .”
“And these are for you and mom and Dylan,” she said, picking up the gifts she’d brought.
He took them from her and said, “Nothing for Maria, huh?”
“No.” She was in the Christmas spirit, sure, but she wasn’t that spirited.
“Well, thanks,” he said. “I’ll go put them under the tree.”
She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “Max,” she said. “Why does Mom look so surprised to see me?”
“Because I didn’t tell her you were coming,” he said simply.
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
Why? she wondered, fearing she already knew. Her mom probably wouldn’t have come if she’d known Isabel was going to be there. But whatever. She was there, surrounded by family—and a former friend and a lifelong enemy—and whether anyone truly wanted her there or not, she was going to make the most of it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael sat in a sea of wrapping paper that afternoon, trying to clean up the living room. They’d completely destroyed it in the midst of their unwrapping. There were bags, paper, ribbons, and bows everywhere. His mom had asked Tina and him to clean it up while she and Sarah went in the kitchen and did the cooking, but Tina wasn’t helping him at all. She was lying on the couch, digging through her stocking for piece after piece of candy.
“A little help would be nice,” he hinted, feeling as though he were making no progress.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“Not disabled.”
She rolled her eyes, set her stocking aside, and got down on the floor with him to help.
Michael glanced into the kitchen curiously, surprised that Nicholas seemed to be taking a big interest in this meal. He wasn’t just standing around; he was actually helping Sarah make something.
“Does Nicholas cook?” he asked Tina.
“Not really,” she said, balling up a pile of red wrapping paper, “but he’s trying to learn before the baby comes.” She tried to shoot the wrapping paper like a basketball into the trash bag, but she missed.
“You think he’ll poison my food?” Michael joked.
“No. He doesn’t hate you like you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Michael denied. “I just don’t like him very much.”
“Big difference,” she muttered.
There was, though. Hate was something he reserved for a guy like Max, but his conversation with Nicholas last night had pushed him out of that same category.
“Oh my god,” Tina gasped suddenly, holding one hand to her stomach.
“Are you okay?” he questioned.
She smiled. “Yeah, the baby’s just kicking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, do you wanna feel?”
Did he? He wasn’t sure, but he reached out his hand and placed it on her stomach anyway. It was subtle, but it was surreal. “Whoa,” he said. It sort reminded him of popcorn.
“Isn’t it crazy?” she said, awed. “He started kicking last week.”
Michael slowly withdrew his hand and echoed, “He?” That was the first time he’d heard her refer to it with that pronoun.
“Yeah,” she said softly, holding her stomach some more. “We went to the doctor last week, and they told us it was a boy.”
A boy, Michael thought. A son. His little sister was having a son. Cheryl and Steve had a son. At this rate, Tess and Kyle were probably going to have a son, too.
“Wow,” he said, picturing it. Next Christmas, there would be a little boy in that house who got the majority of the presents. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. That seemed like kind of big news.
She lowered her head and lowered her voice, mumbling, “I didn’t think you’d wanna know.”
He frowned, feeling of pang of guilt when she said that. Even though he wasn’t thrilled about this pregnancy, he didn’t want her to think that he’d bear any grudge against her child. His nephew. “I wanna know,” he told her. When that baby was born, he wanted to be there. When he was baptized, had his first birthday . . . he wanted to be there for that stuff, too. He didn’t want Tina to feel like she couldn’t tell him about this stuff or let him be a part of it.
Instantly, it was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. “Good,” she whispered, almost as if she were grateful.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For the majority of the day, not many people really talked to Isabel, except for Max. He was like her safe spot. When her conversations with Liz or Alex started to lull, she could just go find her brother, and even if he didn’t want to spend time with her, he did. But their mother was another story. She barely said two words to Isabel, and she made it a point not to sit next to her at the table. Her attention, it seemed, was fixated on her grandkids and her son. But she spent plenty of time gabbing with Amy and Liz and Maria, too.
Finally, Isabel was able to get her alone when she went into the kitchen to grab some fudge. Isabel followed her, making sure to stand so that she was sort of blocking her from going back out to the living room. “Are we even gonna talk?” she asked outright.
“We’ve talked,” her mom said, eyes focused on her plate as she arranged three pieces of fudge on it.
“You’ve barely even said hello to me,” Isabel accused. “Look, I know Liz and Maria are like your new daughters now, but please try to remember that I’m your actual daughter. And I’m here, Mom.”
Her mother sighed, setting her plate down on the counter. “I am glad to see you,” she said. “But it’s hard for me to even be in the same room as you knowing that you’re still . . .” She trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.
“Max got high and kidnapped his own kid,” Isabel reminded her. “Yet you forgave him.”
“Because he’s changed himself for the better.”
Isabel grunted, frustrated with the way this conversation was going. “Mom, I know you don’t like me very much anymore,” she whimpered, “but can you at least still love me?”
“Oh, honey, I love you,” her mother assured her. “I just don’t respect you.”
Isabel winced. That hurt. It wasn’t surprising . . . but it hurt.
“I’m sorry,” her mom apologized, picking her plate up again. She slipped past Isabel and returned to the living room with a big smile on her face and sat down next to Liz on the couch. The two of them started talking and laughing about something right away.
Isabel stood in the kitchen alone, wishing that Max would notice and call her over, or maybe come talk to her, or just do something to make her feel like less of an outsider. But he and Maria’s mom were watching Dylan and Scarlet play together.
She wasn’t alone in the kitchen for long, though, because Maria slipped away from the rest of the family and came to join her. “That sucks,” she said sympathetically.
“What?”
“Knowing that your mom’s disappointed in you. I get that.”
Isabel groaned, seeing right through this little façade of friendliness. Maria was probably only being nice to make herself look better it front of both the grandmothers there today. “I’m not looking to bond with you, Maria,” she said coldly.
“I was just trying to say that I understand.”
“Well, I don’t want your pity or your empathy or . . . anything,” Isabel snapped.
“Sorry,” Maria said. “I won’t try to be nice to you then.”
“Yeah, don’t.” They’d tried being nice once, back when she’d first moved in with Michael. And look where that had gotten them.
“You know, you don’t have to be such a bitch,” Maria told her.
“Me? I’m the bitch?” Isabel huffed, trying to keep her voice down. “I’m the bitch, Maria? Take a look in the mirror. You are not a good person.”
“I may have made some mistakes . . .” Maria began to acknowledge.
“Mistakes? You’ve made mountains of mistakes, and the funny thing is, you never learn from them.”
Maria’s brow furrowed with hostility. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know you’re working with Michael again. And taking another class with him next semester. Max told me,” Isabel blurted out. “And if he’s really okay with it, then he’s an idiot, because you two are doing the exact same thing you did three years ago.”
“No, we’re not,” Maria vehemently. “We’re--”
“Friends?” Isabel laughed at the absurdity of that claim. “Yeah. Right.”
“You know what, Isabel?” Maria’s voice was growing louder and louder, but no one in the living room was paying attention yet. “Max may have invited you here today, but I have no problem making you leave.”
“Fine, then make me,” Isabel challenged. It wasn’t like anyone was interacting with her anyway. “But do me a favor: When you do inevitably cheat on my brother, look back on this moment and picture me saying I told you so.”
“I’m not gonna cheat on him,” Maria vowed. “I love him.”
Isabel cocked her head to the side. “Is he the love of your life?”
And at that . . . Maria instantly fell silent. And silence said it all.
Isabel smirked. “Didn’t think so.” She grabbed what remained of the cookies she’d brought over, literally pushed past Maria, and stomped out the front door, fuming. What a merry Christmas this had been.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Whether it was by accident or on purpose, Michael found himself slouched on the living room couch that evening after Sarah had already gone to bed. The thought kept crossing his mind that he should take a shower and go get in bed with her, but it was like he just couldn’t move. So he sat on the couch with Shango, petting him while he slept.
Three years ago, he’d sat in this same spot with Maria, shamelessly flirting with her even though he hadn’t been completely aware of his feelings at time the time. He still remembered the moment like it was yesterday: setting that guitar down in her lap, seeing that look of wonder on her face when she realized it was the gift he was giving her for Christmas. He remembered the way her fingers had trembled the second before she’d strummed the chords, but from the moment she’d started singing, they’d stopped shaking.
He turned his head to the side, picturing her sitting there next to him, and he remembered hearing her sing for him the first time.
“You take me in
No questions asked
You strip away the ugliness that surrounds me.”
“Michael?”
He jerked forward, unaware that he’d even fallen asleep. Just like that, it had happened.
Nicholas stood in front of him in his pajamas, a blanket in his hand, curious expression on his face. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep now,” he said.
“Oh.” Michael sat up straighter, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, getting up. He patted his leg, and Shango obediently jumped down off the couch, too.
“I didn’t even try to go into Tina’s room,” Nicholas told him. “Not even once.”
“Well, that’s progress, I guess.” Michael stretched, yawned, and slowly made his way to the stairs. Shango went up a few steps, then stopped and looked back at Michael when he realized he wasn’t following.
He could see his bedroom door from here, open just slightly but dark inside. Sarah had been so tired tonight. For almost an hour now, she’d been in there by herself. Maybe she was waiting for him.
Go, his mind said. Go up there. But his feet did otherwise.
He went outside with his dog and sat down on the front porch steps. This was where he and Maria had been sitting the first time he’d ever told her he loved her.
God, it didn’t matter where he went. The whole house was just soaked in memories.
He took out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts quickly until he found her name. His thumb hovered over the touchscreen uncertainly, hesitantly. But eventually he gave in and called her, not even sure what he wanted to say.
It rang. And it rang again. And again. By the fourth ring, he figured she wouldn’t pick up, and he was about to end the whole damn call when he heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Hey.” It felt good to hear her voice, and he wondered if it made her feel good to hear his.
“Hey,” she returned. “Merry Christmas.”
He smiled a bit. “Yeah.” As far as Christmases went . . . he’d had worse. “How’d your day go?”
“Oh . . . it went,” she said. “Isabel’s gone now. But my mom and Max’s mom are both staying another night.”
Amy DeLuca and Diane Evans? He shuddered at the thought. “They both hate me.”
She laughed lightly. “Yeah, I think they do.” She paused for a moment then, before asking, “So what’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I just . . .” Even now that he was on the phone, he still wasn’t sure why he’d even called in the first place. “I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He switched his phone from hand to hand and reached down to scratch Shango behind the ears. “It’s just . . . Roswell, you know. Same old, same old.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I bet it’s weird to be back there.”
Weird wasn’t even the right word for it. He wasn’t sure what the right word was. “I just feel like I’m a different person when I’m in Carlsbad,” he said. “There, it’s like, I got a job, and I’m in college. I’m good at college. And I have all these opportunities, and I’m actually makin’ the most of them. ‘cause I’m not so busy makin’ mistakes.” He sighed, feeling like he was just rambling on. But maybe he was making some sort of sense. “I don’t know, I guess I just feel like I’m a better person there than I am here.”
“I think you’re the same person,” she said softly.
He smiled appreciatively, but he really felt like he was split in half sometimes. And half of him was in Carlsbad, and half of him had never left Roswell. “This place . . .” he said. “It just brings back the past, you know?” There were a lot of painful, dark memories—his dad played a prominent role in those ones. But the memories of her . . . most of those were better.
“I know,” she practically whispered. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to. He had a feeling that, regardless of where she was and where he was right now, they were both thinking about the same thing, both remembering that exactly three years ago tonight, she’d sung for him for the first time. And he’d fallen in love with her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Just as she finished her phone call with Michael, Max came into the bedroom. “Hey,” Maria said, setting her phone aside.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask who she’d been talking to. “Hey,” he returned, shutting the door.
“Well, we survived.”
“Yeah. It actually went better than I thought it would.” He took a seat next to her on the side of the bed and rubbed her shoulder. “I wish Isabel hadn’t left like that, though.”
She tensed momentarily, trying very hard to forget about the conversation that had led up to her departure. “I think she was just jealous that no one was really paying attention to her,” she said, “so storming out was her way of getting attention.”
“Well . . .” Max lowered his hand and shrugged. “At least she came, I guess.”
Maria nodded, though truthfully, selfishly . . . she wouldn’t have minded if Isabel hadn’t been there at all. She’d been a dark cloud in an otherwise sunny day.
“So did you like the gifts I got you?” he asked suddenly.
“Yeah, I loved them.” She’d asked for practical things, like a new jacket, and a new lamp. And a cookbook.
“Good,” he said, “because sometimes I’m not so great when it comes to shopping.”
“No, you did a good job,” she assured him. “I loved everything.”
“Good,” he said again. Then he just stared at her for a few seconds, awkwardly, as though he were trying to say something else. When he finally did, he stuttered. “I-I actually have one more—one more gift to give you.”
“Oh?” Oh god.
“Yeah. I’m kinda nervous about it.”
Oh god, oh god. She was nervous, too. This sounded like . . .
And it looked like that, too, when he got up and crossed the room to the dresser. He opened the top drawer, which was his sock and underwear drawer, dug around for a moment, and then took out a small grey box.
Her heart started to pound with trepidation. This was it. The something meaningful. Michael had predicted it all along.
She must have looked panicked, because he said, “Don’t freak out, okay?” and set the box down on her lap. “It’s not what you think it is.”
She gave him a confused look as he sat down next to her again. The box was small. There were only so many things it could be. Earrings? she wondered. Maybe it was just earrings.
Trying to keep her fingers from shaking, she slowly opened the box, and what she saw inside literally made her gasp in astonishment.
It was a ring. But it wasn’t just any ring. It was the same small, circular ring she’d worn on her finger years ago. The one that had fallen down the sink. She recognized it instantly.
“This is . . .” She lifted the ring out of the box, struggling to form words. “This is just like the engagement ring Michael gave me.”
“It’s not like that ring, Maria,” Max corrected. “It is that ring.”
Her hand shook so much, she nearly dropped it. “What?” she choked out. How could that be? “But I lost it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She frowned, turning the ring around in her hands. It did look like the exact same fit, but she didn’t want to put it on. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How did you find this?” It wasn’t as if she’d just misplaced it; the thing had fallen down a drain. Lost for all time. Or so she’d thought.
“Do you remember the night you lost it?” he asked. “I came over, and we argued. You told me I’d never be a part of Dylan’s life, and I was pissed.”
What did that have to do with anything? She still didn’t understand.
Swallowing hard, he looked down at his lap and revealed, “I took your ring.”
She stared at him sharply, trying to process all of this. “What?”
“You were in the shower,” he recalled, his head still hanging shamefully, “and you thought I left. But I didn’t. I swiped your ring right off the counter of the sink, and I didn’t even think twice about it.”
She ran her thumb over the small diamond, stunned by what she was hearing. “So you’ve had this the whole time?”
“No.” He hesitated a moment, then finally lifted his head to look her in the eye. “I sold it, and I used the money I made off of it to buy drugs. The same drugs I used the night I drove Dylan out to that bridge.”
She shuddered, wanting to cry. Never in a million years had she imagined that it was her ring that had funded Max’s relapse. If he hadn’t taken it, then maybe that whole night never would have happened. Maybe everything would have been different.
“I never told you because I was so ashamed,” he said, sounding on the verge of tears. “And I wanted to make it right, or at least try to, so I tracked the ring down, and I bought it back for you.”
Gazing down at the diamond, a few tears fell over onto her cheeks. This whole thing . . . it was such a blast from the past, and it shocked the hell out of her. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. Part of her was horrified that he’d done such a thing. Part of her was proud of him for owning up to it. And another part of her couldn’t stop thinking about when Michael had given her that ring in the first place.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he told her. “I know it’s sort of an unusual Christmas present.”
Unusual? That didn’t even begin to describe it.
“I just . . . I’ve had a lot of guilt about this for a long time now,” he said, “and I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
She knew he was sorry, that he really, truly felt bad about what he’d done. The Max Evans who had stolen this ring from her and the Max Evans sitting beside her right now were two very different people. It was like he was . . .
. . . split in half.
Unable to say anything, she put the ring back in the box and kept staring at it through tear-filled eyes. He seemed to sense that she might need a moment alone, because he got up and left the room. And when it was just her and that diamond, she let herself cry a little harder. Not because she was mad at him. But because it made her remember.
TBC . . .
-April
Nicholas is sort of like . . . like Michael's shadow self, in a way? He's what Michael could have been had he ended up becoming a father in high school. Hopefully he'll be okay. He's not a bad kid. He's just messed up some things in his life, and there have been plenty of things beyond his control.I do think Nicholas will end up being ok. And maybe once the baby is born, he can move in with Tina and Krista and raise the baby in a healthy HAPPY non-abusive home.
We shall see.And I have a feeling you are going to break this Sara's and that Sarah's hearts......so sad.
Carolyn:
Well, Christmas is continuing in this part, and there's still going to be some tension.but it wasn't the happiest of Christmas's for many concerned.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Part 40
“Merry Christmas!” Liz exclaimed when Maria opened the door.
Maria’s focus was immediately on Scarlet, who was wearing the cutest velvet red dress with white tights and black shoes. Liz had put a red flower headband in her hair, too, so she looked like one of those beauty pageant babies. “Oh my god, look at her. She’s so cute,” Maria raved.
“I know, I love dressing her up,” Liz said as she came inside. “It’s like dressing up a little doll.”
“Aw.” Maria squeezed Scarlet’s soft little hands and said, “Hi, Scarlet.”
The little girl gurgled out something that sounded like ‘hi’ in response.
“Oh, look who’s here!” Diane called excitedly from the living room.
“Hi, Diane,” Liz said, waving at her. She set Scarlet down and said, “Go see Grandma,” and though Scarlet did waddle forward, she went straight to her daddy instead. Max picked her up and hugged her, surveyed what she was wearing, and immediately took off her headband.
“Put that back on,” Liz told him. “It’s festive.”
Max didn’t need to be told twice.
“Well, perfect timing,” Maria told Liz as she took her coat from her. “We just started opening presents.”
“Shoot, mine are out in the car,” Liz said. “I’ll go get ‘em.” She turned to head back out, but then she quickly swiveled back and said, “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Alex to swing by today, too.”
“Oh.” With all these guests, their kitchen table was going to be pretty crowded, but she figured they could squeeze in one more. “Yeah, that’s fine. I think we’ll have plenty of food.” Both her mom and Diane had brought plenty to eat, which was great for Maria, because it meant she’d hardly have to cook anything.
“He’s just been so down in the dumps these past couple weeks,” Liz said. “I think he was planning on spending today with Leanna and her family, but . . . obviously that got shot to hell.”
“Obviously.”
“And his parents moved to Vermont last year, so it’s not like he can just drive home. I felt so bad for him, ‘cause when I asked him what he was gonna do today, he was like, ‘Oh, I don’t know, I’ll probably just watch Rudolph on repeat.’”
“Yeah, he needs to be around people,” Maria agreed. Rudolph was fine to watch once a year, but no more than that. “Oh . . .” She cringed, remembering that there was one other guest who hadn’t shown up yet. “Does he know that Isabel’s gonna be here?”
“No,” Liz said, biting her bottom lip nervously.
Maria sighed. “Oh, well. Let’s just hope it goes off without a hitch then.”
Liz crossed her fingers hopefully.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel listened to Christmas music on the drive from her place to Max’s. She was totally in the holiday spirit, because Jesse’s mom had given her a hand-knitted red and white sweater dress as a present. It wasn’t ugly, though; it was actually well-made and cute, especially with the black leggings and boots she’d paired it with. Yes, she certainly looked Christmas-y, and she felt Christmas-y, too, so hopefully today would be Christmas-y. The way it used to be.
There were four cars in the driveway and parked along the street in front of Max’s house when she got there, and getting out of one of them was, much to her surprise, Alex. She parked quickly and got out as well. “Alex!” she called.
He spun to face her, looking similarly surprised. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked.
She smiled, happy to see a semi-friendly face. “I was invited.”
“So was I,” he said.
Her heart started to speed up, because this day had just gotten a whole lot better. Her mom and Alex on Christmas day? What an amazing opportunity to work on patching things up with two people she’d mistakenly alienated over the years.
She was about to just follow Alex inside when she remembered to get the gifts for Dylan, Max, and her mom out of the passenger’s seat, as well as the cookies she’d made. They were just plain sugar cookies, but she’d spent hours decorating all of them, and they actually looked really professionally made.
When she went inside, the first thing she saw was that Liz was there. Which was sort of a bummer, because she and Alex were already hugging, and Scarlet was hugging his leg, and they all looked sort of . . . cozy. But when she turned her attention away from that, there was her mom, sitting next to Maria’s mom on the couch. She had this stunned look on her face, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
She set the gift bags down on the floor and said, “Hi, everyone,” smiling and waving. They all just sat there and stared, though. It was like they didn’t know what to say to her. Of all people to speak up, it was finally Dylan who said, “Hi,” and waved back before tearing the wrapping paper off of a box that was nearly his size. That at least got Max off his ass, and he approached her to give her a tentative hug.
“Thanks for coming,” he said as quiet conversation resumed in the living room.
“Thanks for having me,” she responded politely, although now that she was here . . . she felt sort of uncomfortable. “I made cookies.”
He took the plate from her and said, “That’s great. The ones we made turned out awful, so . . .”
“And these are for you and mom and Dylan,” she said, picking up the gifts she’d brought.
He took them from her and said, “Nothing for Maria, huh?”
“No.” She was in the Christmas spirit, sure, but she wasn’t that spirited.
“Well, thanks,” he said. “I’ll go put them under the tree.”
She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “Max,” she said. “Why does Mom look so surprised to see me?”
“Because I didn’t tell her you were coming,” he said simply.
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
Why? she wondered, fearing she already knew. Her mom probably wouldn’t have come if she’d known Isabel was going to be there. But whatever. She was there, surrounded by family—and a former friend and a lifelong enemy—and whether anyone truly wanted her there or not, she was going to make the most of it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael sat in a sea of wrapping paper that afternoon, trying to clean up the living room. They’d completely destroyed it in the midst of their unwrapping. There were bags, paper, ribbons, and bows everywhere. His mom had asked Tina and him to clean it up while she and Sarah went in the kitchen and did the cooking, but Tina wasn’t helping him at all. She was lying on the couch, digging through her stocking for piece after piece of candy.
“A little help would be nice,” he hinted, feeling as though he were making no progress.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“Not disabled.”
She rolled her eyes, set her stocking aside, and got down on the floor with him to help.
Michael glanced into the kitchen curiously, surprised that Nicholas seemed to be taking a big interest in this meal. He wasn’t just standing around; he was actually helping Sarah make something.
“Does Nicholas cook?” he asked Tina.
“Not really,” she said, balling up a pile of red wrapping paper, “but he’s trying to learn before the baby comes.” She tried to shoot the wrapping paper like a basketball into the trash bag, but she missed.
“You think he’ll poison my food?” Michael joked.
“No. He doesn’t hate you like you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Michael denied. “I just don’t like him very much.”
“Big difference,” she muttered.
There was, though. Hate was something he reserved for a guy like Max, but his conversation with Nicholas last night had pushed him out of that same category.
“Oh my god,” Tina gasped suddenly, holding one hand to her stomach.
“Are you okay?” he questioned.
She smiled. “Yeah, the baby’s just kicking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, do you wanna feel?”
Did he? He wasn’t sure, but he reached out his hand and placed it on her stomach anyway. It was subtle, but it was surreal. “Whoa,” he said. It sort reminded him of popcorn.
“Isn’t it crazy?” she said, awed. “He started kicking last week.”
Michael slowly withdrew his hand and echoed, “He?” That was the first time he’d heard her refer to it with that pronoun.
“Yeah,” she said softly, holding her stomach some more. “We went to the doctor last week, and they told us it was a boy.”
A boy, Michael thought. A son. His little sister was having a son. Cheryl and Steve had a son. At this rate, Tess and Kyle were probably going to have a son, too.
“Wow,” he said, picturing it. Next Christmas, there would be a little boy in that house who got the majority of the presents. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. That seemed like kind of big news.
She lowered her head and lowered her voice, mumbling, “I didn’t think you’d wanna know.”
He frowned, feeling of pang of guilt when she said that. Even though he wasn’t thrilled about this pregnancy, he didn’t want her to think that he’d bear any grudge against her child. His nephew. “I wanna know,” he told her. When that baby was born, he wanted to be there. When he was baptized, had his first birthday . . . he wanted to be there for that stuff, too. He didn’t want Tina to feel like she couldn’t tell him about this stuff or let him be a part of it.
Instantly, it was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. “Good,” she whispered, almost as if she were grateful.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For the majority of the day, not many people really talked to Isabel, except for Max. He was like her safe spot. When her conversations with Liz or Alex started to lull, she could just go find her brother, and even if he didn’t want to spend time with her, he did. But their mother was another story. She barely said two words to Isabel, and she made it a point not to sit next to her at the table. Her attention, it seemed, was fixated on her grandkids and her son. But she spent plenty of time gabbing with Amy and Liz and Maria, too.
Finally, Isabel was able to get her alone when she went into the kitchen to grab some fudge. Isabel followed her, making sure to stand so that she was sort of blocking her from going back out to the living room. “Are we even gonna talk?” she asked outright.
“We’ve talked,” her mom said, eyes focused on her plate as she arranged three pieces of fudge on it.
“You’ve barely even said hello to me,” Isabel accused. “Look, I know Liz and Maria are like your new daughters now, but please try to remember that I’m your actual daughter. And I’m here, Mom.”
Her mother sighed, setting her plate down on the counter. “I am glad to see you,” she said. “But it’s hard for me to even be in the same room as you knowing that you’re still . . .” She trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.
“Max got high and kidnapped his own kid,” Isabel reminded her. “Yet you forgave him.”
“Because he’s changed himself for the better.”
Isabel grunted, frustrated with the way this conversation was going. “Mom, I know you don’t like me very much anymore,” she whimpered, “but can you at least still love me?”
“Oh, honey, I love you,” her mother assured her. “I just don’t respect you.”
Isabel winced. That hurt. It wasn’t surprising . . . but it hurt.
“I’m sorry,” her mom apologized, picking her plate up again. She slipped past Isabel and returned to the living room with a big smile on her face and sat down next to Liz on the couch. The two of them started talking and laughing about something right away.
Isabel stood in the kitchen alone, wishing that Max would notice and call her over, or maybe come talk to her, or just do something to make her feel like less of an outsider. But he and Maria’s mom were watching Dylan and Scarlet play together.
She wasn’t alone in the kitchen for long, though, because Maria slipped away from the rest of the family and came to join her. “That sucks,” she said sympathetically.
“What?”
“Knowing that your mom’s disappointed in you. I get that.”
Isabel groaned, seeing right through this little façade of friendliness. Maria was probably only being nice to make herself look better it front of both the grandmothers there today. “I’m not looking to bond with you, Maria,” she said coldly.
“I was just trying to say that I understand.”
“Well, I don’t want your pity or your empathy or . . . anything,” Isabel snapped.
“Sorry,” Maria said. “I won’t try to be nice to you then.”
“Yeah, don’t.” They’d tried being nice once, back when she’d first moved in with Michael. And look where that had gotten them.
“You know, you don’t have to be such a bitch,” Maria told her.
“Me? I’m the bitch?” Isabel huffed, trying to keep her voice down. “I’m the bitch, Maria? Take a look in the mirror. You are not a good person.”
“I may have made some mistakes . . .” Maria began to acknowledge.
“Mistakes? You’ve made mountains of mistakes, and the funny thing is, you never learn from them.”
Maria’s brow furrowed with hostility. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know you’re working with Michael again. And taking another class with him next semester. Max told me,” Isabel blurted out. “And if he’s really okay with it, then he’s an idiot, because you two are doing the exact same thing you did three years ago.”
“No, we’re not,” Maria vehemently. “We’re--”
“Friends?” Isabel laughed at the absurdity of that claim. “Yeah. Right.”
“You know what, Isabel?” Maria’s voice was growing louder and louder, but no one in the living room was paying attention yet. “Max may have invited you here today, but I have no problem making you leave.”
“Fine, then make me,” Isabel challenged. It wasn’t like anyone was interacting with her anyway. “But do me a favor: When you do inevitably cheat on my brother, look back on this moment and picture me saying I told you so.”
“I’m not gonna cheat on him,” Maria vowed. “I love him.”
Isabel cocked her head to the side. “Is he the love of your life?”
And at that . . . Maria instantly fell silent. And silence said it all.
Isabel smirked. “Didn’t think so.” She grabbed what remained of the cookies she’d brought over, literally pushed past Maria, and stomped out the front door, fuming. What a merry Christmas this had been.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Whether it was by accident or on purpose, Michael found himself slouched on the living room couch that evening after Sarah had already gone to bed. The thought kept crossing his mind that he should take a shower and go get in bed with her, but it was like he just couldn’t move. So he sat on the couch with Shango, petting him while he slept.
Three years ago, he’d sat in this same spot with Maria, shamelessly flirting with her even though he hadn’t been completely aware of his feelings at time the time. He still remembered the moment like it was yesterday: setting that guitar down in her lap, seeing that look of wonder on her face when she realized it was the gift he was giving her for Christmas. He remembered the way her fingers had trembled the second before she’d strummed the chords, but from the moment she’d started singing, they’d stopped shaking.
He turned his head to the side, picturing her sitting there next to him, and he remembered hearing her sing for him the first time.
“You take me in
No questions asked
You strip away the ugliness that surrounds me.”
“Michael?”
He jerked forward, unaware that he’d even fallen asleep. Just like that, it had happened.
Nicholas stood in front of him in his pajamas, a blanket in his hand, curious expression on his face. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep now,” he said.
“Oh.” Michael sat up straighter, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, getting up. He patted his leg, and Shango obediently jumped down off the couch, too.
“I didn’t even try to go into Tina’s room,” Nicholas told him. “Not even once.”
“Well, that’s progress, I guess.” Michael stretched, yawned, and slowly made his way to the stairs. Shango went up a few steps, then stopped and looked back at Michael when he realized he wasn’t following.
He could see his bedroom door from here, open just slightly but dark inside. Sarah had been so tired tonight. For almost an hour now, she’d been in there by herself. Maybe she was waiting for him.
Go, his mind said. Go up there. But his feet did otherwise.
He went outside with his dog and sat down on the front porch steps. This was where he and Maria had been sitting the first time he’d ever told her he loved her.
God, it didn’t matter where he went. The whole house was just soaked in memories.
He took out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts quickly until he found her name. His thumb hovered over the touchscreen uncertainly, hesitantly. But eventually he gave in and called her, not even sure what he wanted to say.
It rang. And it rang again. And again. By the fourth ring, he figured she wouldn’t pick up, and he was about to end the whole damn call when he heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Hey.” It felt good to hear her voice, and he wondered if it made her feel good to hear his.
“Hey,” she returned. “Merry Christmas.”
He smiled a bit. “Yeah.” As far as Christmases went . . . he’d had worse. “How’d your day go?”
“Oh . . . it went,” she said. “Isabel’s gone now. But my mom and Max’s mom are both staying another night.”
Amy DeLuca and Diane Evans? He shuddered at the thought. “They both hate me.”
She laughed lightly. “Yeah, I think they do.” She paused for a moment then, before asking, “So what’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I just . . .” Even now that he was on the phone, he still wasn’t sure why he’d even called in the first place. “I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He switched his phone from hand to hand and reached down to scratch Shango behind the ears. “It’s just . . . Roswell, you know. Same old, same old.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I bet it’s weird to be back there.”
Weird wasn’t even the right word for it. He wasn’t sure what the right word was. “I just feel like I’m a different person when I’m in Carlsbad,” he said. “There, it’s like, I got a job, and I’m in college. I’m good at college. And I have all these opportunities, and I’m actually makin’ the most of them. ‘cause I’m not so busy makin’ mistakes.” He sighed, feeling like he was just rambling on. But maybe he was making some sort of sense. “I don’t know, I guess I just feel like I’m a better person there than I am here.”
“I think you’re the same person,” she said softly.
He smiled appreciatively, but he really felt like he was split in half sometimes. And half of him was in Carlsbad, and half of him had never left Roswell. “This place . . .” he said. “It just brings back the past, you know?” There were a lot of painful, dark memories—his dad played a prominent role in those ones. But the memories of her . . . most of those were better.
“I know,” she practically whispered. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to. He had a feeling that, regardless of where she was and where he was right now, they were both thinking about the same thing, both remembering that exactly three years ago tonight, she’d sung for him for the first time. And he’d fallen in love with her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Just as she finished her phone call with Michael, Max came into the bedroom. “Hey,” Maria said, setting her phone aside.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask who she’d been talking to. “Hey,” he returned, shutting the door.
“Well, we survived.”
“Yeah. It actually went better than I thought it would.” He took a seat next to her on the side of the bed and rubbed her shoulder. “I wish Isabel hadn’t left like that, though.”
She tensed momentarily, trying very hard to forget about the conversation that had led up to her departure. “I think she was just jealous that no one was really paying attention to her,” she said, “so storming out was her way of getting attention.”
“Well . . .” Max lowered his hand and shrugged. “At least she came, I guess.”
Maria nodded, though truthfully, selfishly . . . she wouldn’t have minded if Isabel hadn’t been there at all. She’d been a dark cloud in an otherwise sunny day.
“So did you like the gifts I got you?” he asked suddenly.
“Yeah, I loved them.” She’d asked for practical things, like a new jacket, and a new lamp. And a cookbook.
“Good,” he said, “because sometimes I’m not so great when it comes to shopping.”
“No, you did a good job,” she assured him. “I loved everything.”
“Good,” he said again. Then he just stared at her for a few seconds, awkwardly, as though he were trying to say something else. When he finally did, he stuttered. “I-I actually have one more—one more gift to give you.”
“Oh?” Oh god.
“Yeah. I’m kinda nervous about it.”
Oh god, oh god. She was nervous, too. This sounded like . . .
And it looked like that, too, when he got up and crossed the room to the dresser. He opened the top drawer, which was his sock and underwear drawer, dug around for a moment, and then took out a small grey box.
Her heart started to pound with trepidation. This was it. The something meaningful. Michael had predicted it all along.
She must have looked panicked, because he said, “Don’t freak out, okay?” and set the box down on her lap. “It’s not what you think it is.”
She gave him a confused look as he sat down next to her again. The box was small. There were only so many things it could be. Earrings? she wondered. Maybe it was just earrings.
Trying to keep her fingers from shaking, she slowly opened the box, and what she saw inside literally made her gasp in astonishment.
It was a ring. But it wasn’t just any ring. It was the same small, circular ring she’d worn on her finger years ago. The one that had fallen down the sink. She recognized it instantly.
“This is . . .” She lifted the ring out of the box, struggling to form words. “This is just like the engagement ring Michael gave me.”
“It’s not like that ring, Maria,” Max corrected. “It is that ring.”
Her hand shook so much, she nearly dropped it. “What?” she choked out. How could that be? “But I lost it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She frowned, turning the ring around in her hands. It did look like the exact same fit, but she didn’t want to put it on. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How did you find this?” It wasn’t as if she’d just misplaced it; the thing had fallen down a drain. Lost for all time. Or so she’d thought.
“Do you remember the night you lost it?” he asked. “I came over, and we argued. You told me I’d never be a part of Dylan’s life, and I was pissed.”
What did that have to do with anything? She still didn’t understand.
Swallowing hard, he looked down at his lap and revealed, “I took your ring.”
She stared at him sharply, trying to process all of this. “What?”
“You were in the shower,” he recalled, his head still hanging shamefully, “and you thought I left. But I didn’t. I swiped your ring right off the counter of the sink, and I didn’t even think twice about it.”
She ran her thumb over the small diamond, stunned by what she was hearing. “So you’ve had this the whole time?”
“No.” He hesitated a moment, then finally lifted his head to look her in the eye. “I sold it, and I used the money I made off of it to buy drugs. The same drugs I used the night I drove Dylan out to that bridge.”
She shuddered, wanting to cry. Never in a million years had she imagined that it was her ring that had funded Max’s relapse. If he hadn’t taken it, then maybe that whole night never would have happened. Maybe everything would have been different.
“I never told you because I was so ashamed,” he said, sounding on the verge of tears. “And I wanted to make it right, or at least try to, so I tracked the ring down, and I bought it back for you.”
Gazing down at the diamond, a few tears fell over onto her cheeks. This whole thing . . . it was such a blast from the past, and it shocked the hell out of her. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. Part of her was horrified that he’d done such a thing. Part of her was proud of him for owning up to it. And another part of her couldn’t stop thinking about when Michael had given her that ring in the first place.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he told her. “I know it’s sort of an unusual Christmas present.”
Unusual? That didn’t even begin to describe it.
“I just . . . I’ve had a lot of guilt about this for a long time now,” he said, “and I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
She knew he was sorry, that he really, truly felt bad about what he’d done. The Max Evans who had stolen this ring from her and the Max Evans sitting beside her right now were two very different people. It was like he was . . .
. . . split in half.
Unable to say anything, she put the ring back in the box and kept staring at it through tear-filled eyes. He seemed to sense that she might need a moment alone, because he got up and left the room. And when it was just her and that diamond, she let herself cry a little harder. Not because she was mad at him. But because it made her remember.
TBC . . .
-April
LOVE IS MICHAEL AND MARIA.
-
keepsmiling7
- Roswell Fanatic
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Re: Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) Part 40, 09/18/16
To say this is an unusual Christmas........is a big understatement.
I would have been a nervous wreck had I been in that same situation.
Little Scarlett must have been a real doll in her red velveteen dress.
Was glad to see Michael acting like a big brother with Tina, and wanting to be a part of her son's life. He is coming around.
Now Isabel is jealous of Liz and Maria.......understandably so.
Interesting revelation regarding Maria's engagement ring. Wonder how things will proceed now?
Thanks,
Carolyn
I would have been a nervous wreck had I been in that same situation.
Little Scarlett must have been a real doll in her red velveteen dress.
Was glad to see Michael acting like a big brother with Tina, and wanting to be a part of her son's life. He is coming around.
Now Isabel is jealous of Liz and Maria.......understandably so.
Interesting revelation regarding Maria's engagement ring. Wonder how things will proceed now?
Thanks,
Carolyn