Sara: I feel bad that Alex thought he couldn't stay and talk to Isabel because of some higher standards. She is a mess. She needs help but maybe with his help she can come back!!!!
Yeah, he's very torn when it comes to her. In his heart, he still cares about her, but all logic is telling him that she has to be the one to help herself and he needs to move on.
And Maria and Michael need to stop whatever this is until they let Max and Sarah go. It breaks my heart the most for Sarah but even Max is going to get hurt.
That actually speaks volumes that you even feel bad for Max in this situation, considering what he did in the last story. But he's changed a lot, and he's tried to step up and be a good family man, and . . . this is what he gets in return.
Carolyn: Michael is in a real mess.
As much as I think Michael and Maria should be together, it breaks my heart what this will do to Sarah.
Michael's in a self-created mess here. And yes, poor Sarah . . . that girl has been, like, the best, most understanding girlfriend he could ever ask for, and . . . and it's not enough for him.
Maria and Michael really do belong together, but the damage they will leave behind is unbelievable.
At this point . . . somebody's going to end up being devastated. Either Max and Sarah, or Michael and Maria themselves.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Another music suggestion today: "Wild Horses" by The Sundays. Very beautiful. You can listen to it here when you see
if you'd like.
Part 57
Michael was placing letters in their correct mailboxes when the bell on the front counter rang. He ducked out from the little mail room, surprised to see Tess standing there.
“Michael, Michael, Michael,” she said in a song-like kind of way.
“Tess, Tess, Tess,” he mimicked. “What’re you doin’ here?”
She trailed her fingers along the edge of the counter. “Just . . . being nosy, mostly,” she openly admitted.
He sighed, pretty sure he knew what this was about. “You wanna know what’s going on with me and Kyle, huh?”
“
So badly,” she emphasized. “I mean, I don’t remember you guys
ever going so many days without even talking. It’s weird.”
“We just . . . need some space from each other right now,” he told her.
“Why? What’re you fighting about?”
To be honest . . . Michael wasn’t even sure. He hadn’t exactly enjoyed Kyle’s parting shot about him looking like his dad, but that wasn’t what pissed him off the most. What pissed him off was that Kyle had had the audacity to bring up the whole Maria thing. It was almost like he was
trying to plant doubts in his head.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’ll blow over.”
“Well, so far it hasn’t,” she pointed out. “He’s really upset, Michael, and I don’t like seeing him upset, because . . .” She trailed off, her voice changing to a whimper. “Because he’s been doing so well lately.”
He stared at her, hating the concern he saw in her eyes and noting the way she put one hand on her stomach. She wasn’t really worried about their friendship so much as she was worried about Kyle in general, worried that he’d slip back into that depressive mode of his, start cutting himself off from people again, lose his newfound motivation.
“I’ll talk to him,” he assured her, figuring he could overcome his anger if it would make her feel better. “Don’t worry, Tess.” He could patch things up with Kyle and get things back to normal between the two of them, and it wouldn’t even be that hard. And maybe then Kyle could go back to focusing on what really mattered.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The air was brisk and windy outside, but Kyle was just standing out in the backyard, hands in his pockets, eyes focused on one big tree. Michael stepped out the back door, curious as to what his friend was up to out there. “What’re you doin’?” he asked.
Kyle answered without turning around, “Just tryin’ to see if I’ve got the right kind of tree for a treehouse. Thought I’d build one.”
Michael nodded, picturing it. “That’d be cool.” He’d always wanted a treehouse when he’d been a kid, and his dad had promised him one. But he’d never gotten it.
“Ah, who am I kidding?” Kyle mumbled. “I can’t build a treehouse. Too much heavy lifting.”
It
was a lot of heavy lifting, and a lot of work in general, but he didn’t have to do it alone. “I’d help you,” Michael offered.
Kyle turned around slowly, looking at him skeptically. “Would you?”
He realized their last conversation had left plenty of room for doubt, but when it came right down to it . . . there wasn’t much he
wouldn’t help Kyle do. “Yeah,” he said, already wondering if it was something they could put together this summer. Hell, maybe it’d be a fun project. If Kyle wanted his help, that was.
Michael sighed, sulking forward. “I’m sorry I said all that shit the other day,” he apologized, hoping they could just put it behind them. They were guys, so they didn’t have to drag fights out like girls did. “I was just pissed and hungover, and I took it out on you.”
Kyle nodded solemnly and reciprocated the apology. “Sorry I said you looked like your dad. That was a low blow. You’re nothin’ like him.”
“No, I was the other night,” Michael acknowledged. “I got so drunk.” He didn’t want to be the type of guy to resort to alcohol when the going got tough. It hadn’t even done any good in the long run.
“That doesn’t mean you’re like him, though,” Kyle said.
Michael swallowed hard. “Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna be.” Being like his dad . . . it would be his worst fear come to life.
“Me, neither,” Kyle related. “You know, we’re kind of in the same boat here. We both just wanna be someone. And we will be. I’ll be a father, and you’ll be a husband.”
Michael nodded tensely, still trying to wrap his mind around that inevitability. “Someday you’ll be a husband, too.”
“And someday you’ll be a father.” Kyle smiled at him.
Someday, Michael thought. He thought of Dylan.
“At least you’re doin’ things in the right order, man,” Kyle said, chuckling lightly. “I’m all backwards.”
“Ah, you’ll be alright,” Michael assured him. “You’ve come a long way these past few months.”
“Thanks,” Kyle said, hesitating ever so slightly before asking, “So we’re good?”
“We’re fine.” They’d known each other so long that it would take a lot more than one little argument to get in between the two of them. “Come on, let’s hug it out. Bro-hug.”
Kyle clasped his hand and pulled him close, patting him on the back. “Feels good in here.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, laughing a bit. He took a step back, glad to have that apology off his chest. He really hadn’t meant what he’d said to Kyle the other day. It’d just been the anger and frustration talking.
“Alright, don’t hate me,” Kyle started in, “but I gotta ask just one more time, just ‘cause you’re my best friend and I care about you, okay?”
“Okay.” Michael braced himself, knowing what the question would be.
“Are you sure you wanna marry Sarah?”
He nodded, making sure he sounded confident in his answer. “I’m sure.”
“And what about Maria?”
Trying to act casual, he shrugged. “What about her?”
“She’s . . . the love of your life,” Kyle reminded him.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love Sarah, too.” He’d done a lot of reflecting these past few weeks, and he’d come to the conclusion that it
was in fact possible to love two girls at once. Because what he felt for Sarah was love without a doubt. What he felt for Maria was just . . . it was just love at a different level.
“Alright,” Kyle said. “I just wanna make sure.”
“No, I appreciate it,” Michael said. Rather than lashing out this time, he was going to try to just be grateful. All Kyle was trying to do was look out for him. And that was what he’d always done. “I’m gonna marry Sarah and try to make her really happy every single day for the rest of her life. ‘cause that’s what she deserves.”
“She does,” Kyle agreed. “Okay. I won’t say another thing about it then.”
Inwardly, Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria tugged on a brand new pair of jeans and fastened them, spinning around to take a look at how her backside looked in them. They were supposed to accentuate your curves, in a good way. But she felt like they would have looked better on . . . some other girl.
A knock at the door distracted her, which was probably a good thing, because she’d spent
way too much time already trying on clothes for Friday night. She went to the door and opened it, and surprisingly, there stood Michael’s girlfriend on the other side.
“Hey, Sarah,” she said.
“Hey,” Sarah chirped. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Maria stepped aside and allowed Sarah to come into the house. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on—surely a mall invite could have been accomplished through text message. The last time Sarah had dropped by, it had been to beg her to testify against Billy. Hopefully this wasn’t something equally as serious.
“How’s it going?” Maria asked as she shut the front door.
“Really good, actually,” Sarah said, taking a seat on the couch. “Now that Michael and Kyle have patched things up, life’s starting to feel normal again. The Earth is no longer tilted off its axis.”
Maria frowned, not understanding. “Michael and Kyle were fighting?” That was just bizarre to even contemplate.
“Yeah, hard to believe, I know,” Sarah said. “But Michael had a little too much to drink last Friday, and I guess Kyle got upset with him about it, and they just . . .” She waved her hands in front of her face. “Whatever. They’re over it now, so . . . must not have been that big of a deal.”
“Right,” Maria said, though it sure
sounded like a big deal to her. If Michael had really been drunk enough to get Kyle so angry, then wasn’t that cause for concern? It didn’t seem like he went out and got wasted anymore, so why would he . . .
“That’s actually not why I’m here, though,” Sarah said.
“It’s not?” Maria sat down beside her, worried that something had happened. Like maybe somehow Sarah had found out the truth about that ring on her finger.
“No. See . . . you know how I thought Michael would be, like, super enthused about having Dylan be the ring-bearer for our wedding?” Sarah grimaced. “Well, he hasn’t said anything directly, but somehow I just sense that he’s not as thrilled about it as I thought he’d be. So has he said anything to you about it?”
“Oh, well, he . . .”
He said plenty, Maria thought, but she was going to have to give Sarah the watered-down version. “He kind of
implied that it might be a little weird for him, just because Dylan was gonna be
our ring-bearer once. And—not that he’s feeling nostalgic or anything—I just think he wants that day to be all about you and all about his future with you. Rather than the past.”
Sarah nodded contemplatively. “So maybe we should find another ring-bearer then.”
“Or just talk to him about it and see where his head’s at,” Maria suggested. “If you guys decide you wanna go a different direction, that’s fine; but if you decide you do want Dylan to be your ring-bearer, then that’s fine, too.”
“Okay,” Sarah said. “I’ll let you know how he feels about it.” She started to stand up, but she paused for a moment and sat back down. “But . . . wait a minute,” she said, looking right at Maria. “What about you? How do
you feel about it? I mean, if it bothers him, it must bother you, too. God, here I am being insensitive again.”
“No, no, you’re fine,” Maria assured her. Sarah had been nothing but nice to her, and she really didn’t want her to feel guilty. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“Are you sure?”
No, Maria thought.
I’m not sure. In fact, the only thing she was sure of was that it actually
did bother her. But that was . . . a very selfish feeling, and she just had to get over it. “Yeah,” she answered, putting on her happy face. “I’m just so excited for both of you.”
Sarah beamed a smile. “Thanks, Maria,” she said. “You’re a really good friend.”
Maria smiled nervously. If Sarah had any idea just how many inappropriate thoughts about Michael raced through her mind day after day . . . she probably wouldn’t think she was such a good friend anymore.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So is this Friday night gonna be as wild as your last one?”
Michael frowned, cocking his head to the side. “Who’d you talk to? Kyle?”
“No, Sarah,” Maria replied.
He shifted in his seat as their professor came in to the auditorium. “No, this one’s gonna be pretty tame,” he replied. “Just gonna stay in with Sarah, relax, watch some movies.”
She nodded, eyes cast downward towards her lap. “I’ve got that dance tonight.”
He nodded slowly, still wishing he could be there. But him and Max there together . . . it just probably wouldn’t end well. “Big night for those little kids,” he remarked, wondering how Dylan was feeling about it.
“Yeah,” she agreed, and then, as if she could read his mind, she added, “Dylan’s excited.”
“I’ll bet.” Dylan would be a hot commodity at any and all dances he attended. The girls far outnumbered the boys in his grade, so he’d probably be dancing every slow dance.
She cleared her throat and quickly glanced up at him. “Turns out Max can’t go, though,” she said.
“Really?’ Michael couldn’t help but be . . . intrigued. Was that some kind of hint?
“Yeah. It’s Scarlet’s birthday party tonight, so . . .”
“Oh.” It was definitely a hint. He nodded slowly again, already devising a plan in his head. He could tell Sarah the honest to God truth: that one of the chaperones couldn’t make it. He could say he was just filling in. It really wasn’t even a lie if he told her that. “So do you think they need another chaperone then?” he asked.
Maria shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“That’s up to you,” she mumbled, barely making eye contact. “I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” He grinned, noticing the way she was starting to blush under the heat of his gaze. She definitely cared, and that meant she definitely wanted him there.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The dance wasn’t fancy. For elementary kids, it didn’t need to be. Basically all the tables had been moved out of the cafeteria, the lights were off, and there were a few streamers and balloons decorating the walls. The principal, of all people, was the DJ. He was just playing songs off his computer, which was hooked up to a speaker system for amplified volume.
Michael got there pretty early, so it was still that awkward time when the kids were sort of just standing around out on the dance floor. Nobody wanted to be the first to start dancing. A few of the third grade girls were taking off their shoes, though, a sure sign that they wouldn’t be stationary for much longer.
Michael moseyed on over to Vanessa, who was frantically restocking the food table. There were various bowls of chips and candy and punch, but knowing the way little kids were, they’d end up making a mess of it by the time the night was over. In fact, if the dance
didn’t end in a food fight, it’d be a damn miracle.
“Hey, Vanessa,” he greeted.
“Oh, Michael. Hi,” she said, smiling at him. “I didn’t think you were gonna be here.”
He shrugged. “Plans changed at the last minute. Thought I’d come by.”
“Well, that was nice of you.” She dumped a whole bag of Lays chips into a bowl and tossed the bag into the trash. “Well,” she said, brushing off her hands, “how’s it look?”
“Looks good.”
She laughed a little. “Yeah, this is the result of me and a couple really ambitious third graders after school today. Nothing more.”
“Probably looks like prom to them, though,” he pointed out. “You know what? I spiked the punch at every prom I ever went to. And every homecoming. Basically just every dance.”
“And now you’re a chaperone,” she remarked. “At an elementary school one. I’d say you’ve grown up.”
“Oh, yeah.” A few years ago, if someone had told him he ever would have volunteered to go to one of these things, he’d have said they were crazy. But times changed.
“Well, the good news is, we won’t have to worry about spiked punch here,” Vanessa said. “It should be a pretty easy night. Just let me know if you see anything getting out of control, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Thanks.” She slipped away when a very young little girl called out to her from the dance floor. She was sitting down, trying to tie her shoes but really having no luck. So Vanessa bent down to help her. Yeah, that would be the extent of drama at tonight’s dance: untied shoes.
Michael’s attention drifted to the front entrance almost on instinct, just in time to see the most recent arrivals walk in. Maria and Dylan. He had on a little suit and everything, and he looked adorable . . . but Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Maria. She was dressed casually enough in jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt, but she just looked . . . amazing. In every sense of the word.
This is getting out of control, he thought. But even so, he didn’t look away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was hard for Maria to tell who was more excited about this dance, herself or Dylan. He, of course, was acting like it was no big deal, yet he’d checked his hair in the mirror twenty times before leaving. She, meanwhile, couldn’t get over the fact that her little boy was having his first ever school dance. She’d gotten plenty of pictures of him at home, and she planned on snapping plenty more while he was with his friends tonight.
“Well, this looks fun,” she remarked, kneeling down in front of him. “Oh, look at you,” she cooed, adjusting his little black suit jacket. “You look so cute.”
“I don’t wanna look cute,” he complained for the umpteenth time that night. “I wanna look handsome.”
“You
do look handsome. And cute. All at once,” she assured him, getting a kick out of how seriously he was taking this. Obviously he was a man on a mission tonight. “Trust me, every girl’s gonna wanna dance with you.”
He wrinkled his nose up. “Girls are gross.”
“Hey, I’m a girl.”
“No, you’re not. You’re my mom.”
“Okay, just get on out there,” she said, giving him a gentle push towards the dance floor. “Have a good time.” She watched adoringly as he shuffled out to his group of friends, mostly the other kids who played sports. It was all very gender segregated right now, boys on one side of the dance floor, girls on the other. And right now the girls were the only ones doing any dancing. They’d start intermingling soon enough, though. And hopefully once they did, Dylan would work up the nerve to ask a certain someone to dance. They’d practiced that at home.
Once Dylan had started socializing with his friends, Maria looked around for her own friends to socialize with. There were plenty of other moms and dads there, but if she was being honest with herself, there was really only one person she cared to be around tonight. And he was standing by the food table, his eyes on her.
Her breath hitched momentarily. God, he looked . . .
Enticing. There really was no other word for it.
I hope I look okay, she thought, pulling down slightly on her shirt. She didn’t have much in the way of cleavage, but this shirt was a very structured V-neck, so it definitely accentuated what was there. She made her way over to him, subtly pulling out her necklace. The music symbol one he’d given her for her birthday.
“Hey,” she said, feeling . . . sort of lame and ridiculous. Because who did this? Honestly, what twenty-two year old woman got all giddy and excited about seeing a boy at a dance?
“Hey,” he returned.
She leaned back against the table, hoping he noticed her necklace. “So you decided to come.”
“Yeah.” It might have just been her imagination, but she felt like his eyes were lingering on her. “You look nice,” he said.
“Thanks.” It was always good to hear that . . . especially from him. When he said it, it just mattered more somehow. Maybe because he had so many other nice-looking women in his life.
“So I see Dylan’s all dressed up,” he remarked, looking out onto the dance floor. He waved at Dylan, and Dylan smiled hugely at him and waved right back.
“He wants to look good for Emily,” she explained. “They have a crush on each other.”
“A crush, huh?” He grinned. “Well, maybe they’ll dance together.”
For some reason, when he said that, all she could think about was dancing with him. “Maybe.” Dancing wasn’t just a casual thing, not even at Dylan’s age. There was something so romantic about it, and when you were older, it was almost . . . intimate.
Gearing her mind back to an appropriate topic of conversation, she cleared her throat. “So do any of these kids know they’re in the presence of royalty tonight?” she joked. When he shot her a confused look, she clarified, “Snowball king.”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “No, no, they don’t.” He kept his eyes on the kids, who were starting to move a little more now, but his face took on his sort of dazed, wistful look. She wondered if he was starting to think about the past just as much as she was, all their memories. Turning his head to look at her, he said, “That was a . . . big night for us.”
She gulped nodding. “Yeah.” It hadn’t been their first kiss, nor their first
time, but still . . . the memory of that night was permanently embedded in her brain.
She let her mind wander back in time, back to the night when he’d slipped away from a dance like this just to meet up with her. The two of them, alone in a dark hallway, arms around each other, swaying to the music before his lips were on her neck . . .
She shuddered, jerking herself out of the memory.
Oh god. Oh god.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ooh, look, Scarlet! Some new books!” Liz exclaimed as she unwrapped Scarlet’s next birthday present for her. “Grandma and Grandpa want us to do some reading.”
Liz’s mom moved in closer to Scarlet’s high chair, which Scarlet kept trying to crawl out of. “Get a picture, Jeff,” she told her husband. She leaned in on one side of Scarlet, and Liz leaned in on the other, holding up the books while her father scooted back to take the picture.
Beside him, Max’s mom reached over and squeezed his arms. “She’s so beautiful, Max,” she said. “Just such a beautiful little girl.”
“I know,” he said, whipping out his phone so he could take a few more pictures of his own. “I love her a lot.” Hopefully she’d always know that, even when she was old enough to go over to her friends’ houses and see that they most likely had both a mom and a dad living there. He was always going to be a part of her life, even if he couldn’t tuck her in every single night.
“You’re a good father to her,” his mom said proudly.
“Thanks.” That’d been the goal all along, to do things right with her, not mess things up like he had with Dylan.
Speaking of Dylan . . .
He checked his messages and saw that Maria had sent him a few photos of Dylan all dressed up in his suit. In one picture he had on a black fedora and shades. Hopefully he hadn’t worn those to the dance, because he looked like a Jay-Z wannabe.
“Hey, Max?” Liz called. “Can you help me get that Barbie car? It’s in the back.”
“Sure.” He put his phone away and followed her to the back room of her bakery, where she stored pretty much anything and everything she needed to run her business. The box they needed to carry out sat in the middle of the room, and it was huge. Surely it wasn’t that heavy, but it was so massive that Max wasn’t even sure he could get a good grip on it.
“Are we sure this isn’t a real car?” he joked.
She laughed. “It might be.”
“Jesus.” He nudged it with his foot, and it moved easily. If he could just balance it in his arms, he’d be able to haul it out there no problem.
“Thanks for being here tonight, Max,” she said suddenly.
“Hey, it’s my daughter’s birthday. Where else would I be?”
“Maybe at your son’s first dance,” she said. “I know you hate to have to miss it.”
He sighed, admitting, “I do wish I could be at both.”
“Well, why don’t you stop over there for a bit and then come back?” she suggested. “I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” He really did want to check in on how things were going with Dylan, but he didn’t want her to feel like he was abandoning her.
“Yes, go ahead,” she urged. “We won’t do the cake until you get back.”
He wasn’t going to need any more convincing than that. Leave it to Liz to be incredibly understanding. “Alright. Thanks, Liz.” He smiled at her and then bent down to lift the massive Barbie car up, but as soon as he had his hands on it, it slipped out of his grasp and fell onto her toes.
“Ow!” she yelped, jumping backward.
“You okay?” he asked. But she’d already started laughing, so he laughed, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Damn, these kids can eat, Michael thought as he restocked the food table for what felt like the thousandth time. Somehow, he’d found himself in charge of that tonight, and it was an exhausting job. Once the food ran out, maybe they’d all start to crash, because right now, they were high energy. As more and more kids showed up, the amount of them who got out there and danced increased. It wasn’t dancing so much as it was a lot of jumping around and making fools of themselves, but at least they were all having fun.
“Hey, Mr. Guerin,” a little girl he didn’t recognize said to him. It took him a moment to even register that he was supposed to respond, just because he was so unused to being called
Mr. Guerin.
“Hey,” he said, barely even noticing the little shrimp of a kid the girl was holding hands with.
“Hey, Coach,” Melvin squeaked out. Michael hadn’t seen him much since football season.
“Hey, Melvin, what’s up?” Michael got a good chuckle out of seeing him apparently with a date. They didn’t say anything else to him. It was just back out to the dance floor, where Melvin had absolutely no rhythm whatsoever.
Michael scanned the crowd of kids for Dylan and was able to locate him relatively quickly. While many of them were clumping up towards the middle of the floor, he and Luke and a few other guys were hanging out on the outside of the circle more so they had more room to move around. Luke was doing a handstand that Michael found to be pretty damn impressive, and apparently some of the kindergarten girls thought so, too, because there were a lot of high-pitched squeals coming from that direction. Dylan tried to do one, too, but he didn’t quite know how, so he ended up falling on his face. He got right back up, though, and laughed it off like the stud he was.
Wondering if Maria was seeing all of this, Michael looked around for her. And when he found her . . . he wished he hadn’t. Because she was definitely watching, but she wasn’t alone now. Max was there, standing beside her, his arm around her. There they were, a mom and a dad watching their son . . . and there Michael was, just watching them.
For some reason, it felt like it would be the worst thing ever if Max stuck around, so Michael stood back in the shadows, hoping he’d leave any second. A few minutes passed, and he didn’t go anywhere. He took pictures of Dylan, said a few things to Maria, and then he even bent down and kissed her.
Michael had to look away.
The good news was that, after that, he left. Apparently it was just a drop-in, because just like that, he was gone again, and Maria was walking back towards the food table.
“Looks like Dylan’s having fun,” Michael remarked.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “He was a little nervous about all the dancing, but Max tried to show him a few moves.”
He grunted skeptically. “Max has moves?”
“Yeah, he’s actually a good dancer.”
“Whatever,” Michael grumbled, rolling his eyes. As far as he was concerned, the only thing Max was good at was doing drugs. And kidnapping his own son, of course.
The current song ended, and a slower, more melodic one kicked on. Many of the kids groaned and started to leave the dance floor, but Michael knew this was Dylan’s opportunity. “Ooh, here we go. Slow song,” he said, watching intently as Dylan took a few steps towards a group of girls, then a few right back. “Make your move, man.”
“He’s shy,” Maria said.
“He’s not shy; he’s just nervous.” It didn’t matter how old you were. There was something about asking a girl to dance that was downright terrifying. “He’ll get over it, though,” he promised, silently rooting Dylan on as he worked up the courage to approach the girls. “Watch. He’s gonna ask her.”
Maria leaned in to get a better look. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”
“Oh, yeah. She likes him.”
Dylan had his hands in his pockets and his head down, but apparently he got the question out, because one girl with long brown hair beamed at him and threw her arms around him. “And there we go,” he narrated. Just like that, they were slow-dancing. Probably the first slow dance either one of them had ever had in their lives.
“Oh my god, I have to get a picture,” Maria squealed, whipping out her phone. “Too cute.” Michael wanted to do the same, but . . . he sort of felt like he couldn’t. After all, it wasn’t his kid out there. Maybe she’d be willing to send them to him. Maybe that wouldn’t be too much to ask.
“That could be your future daughter-in-law right there for all you know,” he said, just to freak Maria out.
“Let’s not think too far ahead here,” she cautioned, putting her phone away.
“Hey, you never know.”
She sighed contentedly, a look of happiness on her face as she watched her son. “I guess anything’s possible.”
Michael watched her, though, completely mesmerized.
Yeah, he thought,
anything is.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sarah rolled one sheer black nylon stocking up her leg and let it snap into place around mid-thigh. Then she did the same to the other leg. When she was done, she took a step back from the mirror and posed with one hand on her hip. Yeah, tonight’s lingerie was ridiculously over the top. Along with the stockings, she had on a black strapless bustier bra and lacy black boy shorts that showed off plenty of cheeks. It was probably kind of a slutty look, but wearing it for Michael didn’t make her feel slutty at all; it made her feel sexy.
She smirked at her reflection, pleased with what she saw. Maybe she didn’t have the body of Isabel Evans, but Michael never seemed to complain.
Missing him, she picked her phone up off the bed and sent him a quick text, just so he knew she was thinking about him.
can’t wait til u get home!!! She tossed her phone back onto the bed then and spun around to look at herself in the mirror again. Smoothing her hands down her sides, she felt confident. The look was definitely risqué. Michael would love it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Can’t wait ‘til I get home? Michael thought as he read the text Sarah had sent him. She was always so happy to see him, to spend time with him, and lately, he wondered why. It wasn’t as though he’d been a ball of fun lately. He’d been distracted by . . . things.
He put his phone away and continued to pick up trash. The other chaperones had vacated, but Maria was coming back to help clean up after she sent Dylan on his way for the evening. Vanessa and the principal were both still there, too, of course, but they had to stay outside with the kids until each one of them had been picked up by an adult.
“Okay, I’m officially a good mom,” Maria proclaimed proudly as she came back into the cafeteria. “I’m letting Dylan go over to Luke’s house tonight.”
Michael smirked. “A
really good mom would let him go over to Emily’s.”
“Uh, yeah, not gonna happen,” she said, shooting down that idea quickly. She looked around, and upon noticing it was just the two of them, groaned. “Did all the other chaperones leave?”
“Yep. Guess that leaves us with the clean-up.”
“Jerks,” she muttered, grabbing a trash bag. She started to go around from table to table, sliding empty cups and plates into it.
He watched her, staring intently as she bent over to retrieve some trash from under a table. That was definitely a nice view.
“You know, it’s actually not as messy as I thought it’d be,” she said, her back towards him. “I thought it’d be a lot worse.”
“Yeah.” He knotted up the gigantic trash bag in his hand and set it down, bored with the clean-up. It just seemed like such a waste to spend this time alone with Maria picking up trash. So he made his way behind the table where the principal’s laptop was still set up, still connected to the sound system, and he quickly got onto Youtube.
“I told Dylan to clean up after himself, though,” she went on, her back still facing him. “I hope he did.”
Thinking quickly, Michael typed in a song he knew she would like.
“I really hope I’m not picking up his trash,” she mumbled, bending down again. “ ‘cause that would just mean he didn’t listen.”
“Wanna dance?” Michael blurted suddenly.
She whirled around, this surprised look on her face. “What?”
His heart started to beat faster, and he wondered if this was what Dylan had felt like when he was asking Emily. “You wanna dance with me?”
For a second or two, she was just wordless, and when she did speak, all she said was, “There’s no music.”
He grinned, thinking to himself,
I can fix that. He clicked on the video that he wanted, and thankfully, there was no ad. The music just started to play.
(
)
Her whole face lit up, and she got that familiar wondrous look in her eyes when she recognized the song. It was a cover version of ‘Wild Horses’ by the Rolling Stones. She’d played it on her guitar for him once, and he hadn’t forgotten.
“I love this song,” she said quietly, a soft smile on her lips.
It wasn’t his typical type of music by any means, but he loved that she loved it. So he made his way over to her and held out his hand, silently inviting her to take it and step out on the dance floor with him. She looked reluctant, though, of course, like she was mentally debating whether or not it was the right thing to do.
“Come on,” he urged, not caring if it was right or wrong. He just wanted to have her in his arms, just for a few minutes.
She was definitely hesitant, though finally her resistance gave in. She set the trash bag down and put her hand in his, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor. He kicked aside half-deflated balloons and fallen streamers and cleared a small space for them, hoping she wouldn’t dance too far away from him. He wanted to be close.
She put her left hand on his shoulder and didn’t even flinch when he put his right one on her waist. They kept their other hands out to the side, and instinctively, he interlaced his fingers with hers. She felt too distant, though, so he pulled her a bit closer, sliding his hand across the small of her back.
God, she smelled so good, he could barely handle it.
For whatever reason, whether it was because she was self-conscious or because her heart was pounding just as hard as his was, she didn’t look at him. Instead, she looked down at their feet, the way many of these kids tonight had done when they danced together.
“This brings back memories,” he said, tentatively rubbing her back.
“Of prom?” she asked quietly. “Or the snowball dance?”
“Both.” They’d been completely different dances, on account of Isabel being his date to one of them and Maria to the other. But the common factor was that he’d been thinking about her the whole time at both of them. “That snowball dance . . .” he said, moving in closer so that he could feel her chest against his, press the side of his face against her hair. “That was one of the most exhilarating nights of my life.”
He felt her shudder and heard her breathe in sharply. “Mine, too,” she managed to gasp.
Closing his eyes, he let himself remember what it had been like to touch her that night, to kiss her. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you,” he said, well aware that one of his hands was growing evermore daring even right now. He kept letting it slide lower and lower, trying to subtly inch the back of her shirt up.
She didn’t exactly pull away, but she didn’t get lost in the reminiscence the same way he did, either. In fact, somehow she seemed able to carry on a rational conversation as she tilted her head back and looked up at him curiously. “So . . .” she said, “what song are you and Sarah gonna dance to at your wedding?”
He winced inwardly, wishing she wouldn’t mention that, anything about it. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
“Maybe this one?” she suggested.
He shook his head, knowing that wouldn’t be possible now that he was dancing to it with her. “No.”
“No?” Her bottom lip trembled, and he swore he could see tears in her eyes. Like it broke her heart just thinking about it.
He pressed harder against her back, wanting her to get as close to him as possible. And she did. She moved in so close that she could even rest her cheek against his chest, and he could lean down and breathe in the scent of her. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Maria,” he confessed as his fingers traced small circles on her skin, right at the spot where he knew that tattoo of hers was.
She tensed, and their dancing slowed.
“What if I made a mistake?” he wondered, his breath rustling her hair.
She tensed up even more, and her feet stopped moving. So he stopped moving, too, and suddenly, he was just standing there with her, holding her in his arms, trying to think of any way it would be possible for him to let her go.
The music continued to play as she lifted her head and looked up at him, her face mere inches away from his own. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and for a second, he thought he was going to do it. He was going to kiss her. And it would be the best kiss of her life. And his.
He didn’t get the chance, though, because Vanessa came back inside. “Michael, can you help me . . .” She trailed off abruptly when she walked up on the two of them.
Maria backed away quickly, letting go of his hand, and pulling her shirt down in the back.
Déjà vu, he thought, wondering just how much Vanessa had seen. Three years ago, a different guidance counselor had walked up on them dancing together,
very intensely in their own moment, and Maria had gotten nervous then, too.
“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” she said apologetically, scurrying past Vanessa. She stopped on the way out and turned back around, though. “But thanks for doing this for the kids tonight,” she added.
Vanessa nodded wordlessly. Skeptically.
Michael stared at Maria pleadingly, wanting her to stick around. Maybe she could wait for him out in the parking lot. Or they could go somewhere and just talk. Or . . . no, they could
just talk. Even that was fine with him. He just had to figure some stuff out.
She cast one quick glance back at him, but that was it, and he knew she’d be heading straight home. She’d get in bed with Max tonight, and he’d get in bed with Sarah. But the difference was that she’d try to forget tonight had happened. He wouldn’t, because in its own way, it’d been just as exhilarating as that snowball dance had been.
When Maria was gone and it was just him and Vanessa left there, the concern was evident in her eyes. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she’d just interrupted . . . something.
He probably needed some guidance right about now. But he wasn’t going to talk to her about it. So instead, he picked up his trash bag again and got right back to work.
TBC . . .
-April