Roswell Fanatics

What a messed up group of people!
Especially Isabel, she really needs help. I'm sorry Max didn't get to the hospital in time.
But then Max is still trying to get his life straight.
Michael has surprised everyone so far.
It's funny how hesitant men are to holding new born babies. They really don't know how to react.
Thanks for the new part,
Carolyn

Wow...Michael went to Max. He was straight forward and honest which I can totally appreciate. I am sad Max didn't get to Isabel in time. I think this needs to somehow serve as a wake up call for her...but will it? And Jesse...what an ass. Can she NOT see that? Ugh!

Carolyn:

What a messed up group of people!

Yep! I swear, this is every single one of my fics. "messed up group"

I'm sorry Max didn't get to the hospital in time.
But then Max is still trying to get his life straight.

You know . . . he tried. Max and Isabel are not close, and he has himself and his own family to worry about. But he did try to intercept her at the hospital. Unfortunately, she's already home with Jesse now.


Sara:

Wow...Michael went to Max. He was straight forward and honest which I can totally appreciate.

Yeah, you know Michael feels like he's kind of run out of options when he ends up going to Max.

I am sad Max didn't get to Isabel in time. I think this needs to somehow serve as a wake up call for her...but will it?

We shall see.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!








Part 31








As Sarah’s hands roamed all over his back, smoothing out all the knots there, it was like all the tension just started to dissolve from Michael’s body. Today had actually been a pretty good day. Driving out of town with Maria and just talking to her, getting some stuff off his chest . . . it felt good to open up to someone, not just about Isabel, but about his dad, too. He hadn’t realized that there was so much he’d been holding in.

Behind him, straddling his waist, Sarah asked, “Does it feel good?” as she continued to massage him.

“Yeah.” With his head pillowed on his arms, he honestly felt like he could fall asleep as she was doing this.

“You seem less stressed out tonight,” she remarked, pressing hard against his right shoulder blade.

“I am.”

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his back, and asked, “Did you hear anything about Isabel?”

“No.” She had to be out of the hospital by now, though, and probably back home doing . . . what she usually did.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she whispered.

As nice as it would have been to believe that . . . “No, it kind of is.” He wasn’t going to take all the blame for her actions over the past few years, but he could at least own up to the part he’d played in this downward spiral of hers.

Sarah sat up again, and her hands got back to work. “Do you wanna talk about it?” she offered.

He shut his eyes and answered quickly. “Not really.”

She didn’t push or prod for him to say anything. She just kept massaging him with her warm, gentle hands.

He opened his eyes again, frowning slightly. Maybe I should say something, he thought. Maybe he should tell her how he felt about this whole Isabel mess, and how it made him think back to his dad. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.

Thank God she wasn’t asking him why he didn’t want to talk about it. Because if she did, he wasn’t sure how he would have explained that he’d already had that conversation . . . with Maria.

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

Isabel held her cigarette in her mouth with two fingers, inhaling deeply. She took the cigarette out, held the smoke in for a moment, and then exhaled slowly, letting it dribble out into the air. “Fantastic,” she muttered as she saw a familiar car pull up out front, the same one that had stopped there a couple days ago. Michael got out and came across the dry font lawn.

“You smoke now?” he remarked disapprovingly, sitting down beside her on the porch.

“Occasionally,” she said, taking another puff. “And spare me the lecture on bad habits, because you used to have all of them.”

“I never smoked,” he claimed.

She gave him a knowing look.

“Not cigarettes, at least,” he amended. He’d been known to get high at parties sometimes, though.

“Well, would you rather I pop some more pills?” she joked darkly.

“That’s not funny.”

“That’s why you’re here, though, isn’t it? You wanna make sure I’m okay so you don’t feel like a horrible person.” She rolled her eyes at the utter obviousness of it all. “You’re so transparent.” Michael had avoided any and all contact with her for the better part of two and a half years now. But suddenly, right when he had something to feel guilty about, there he was, ready to talk.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked outright.

She grunted. “Why do you care?”

“Because the Isabel Evans I remember would never try to kill herself.”

She made a face and denied, “That’s not what I did.”

“Oh, really?”

“No.” Her life may not have been sunshine and rainbows, but she didn’t want it to end. “I just . . . wasn’t thinking. I do a lot of dumb stuff without thinking. Sort of like you used to do. What was the dumbest thing you did again?” She tapped her chin, pretending to have to think about it. “Oh, that’s right: Maria.”

He shot her an annoyed look.

“I bet you still have a thing for her,” she speculated, figuring Michael would probably always harbor one of those undying flames for Maria DeLuca. Why? She didn’t know, but it would always be there.

“You keep tryin’ to make this about me,” he said, “but it’s not about me; it’s about you.”

That was where he was wrong, though. At the end of the day, it all came back to him. “You’re gonna be a counselor or something, right?” she said, stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray she’d brought outside with her. “Okay then, let’s hear it: What’s your grand advice for a lost little girl like me?”

He shook his head. “There’s no point in sayin’ it if you’re not really gonna listen.”

“No, I’m listening,” she insisted. “Honest.” If nothing else, talking to him was a good way to pass the time.

He waited a moment, then started in with the predictable trip down memory lane. “Remember how you used to go on and on about how I had all this potential to be somebody great?”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered.

“Well, did you ever think that maybe you have that kind of potential, too?”

She laughed at his pathetic attempt to reach her. “Oh, Michael, I’m touched,” she said sarcastically. “It only took me nearly dying for you to say something nice to me.”

“I’m serious. That girl you were back in high school . . . she was great.”

Oh, really? she wanted to say. If I was so great, then why did you break up with me? “Not great enough, apparently,” she said.

“You were smart and beautiful and talented. And everyone knew it. I knew it. Hell, I always knew you were too good for me.”

Maybe she had been, back then. Maybe she had been all those things. But no one remembered Isabel Evans as the smart valedictorian, because she’d been shoved out of that position for character issues. No one remembered Isabel Evans as the talented leader, the student body president. No one remembered her as the beautiful homecoming queen. All they remembered was her fall from grace.

“And now look at you,” he said. “Why the hell would you settle for bein’ like this when you know you can be so much more?”

“Michael . . .” He didn’t get it. He’d gone from being no one to being someone. It was a lot harder when you did that same thing in reverse. “I barely even remember the girl I used to be.”

“Well, I remember her,” he said. “And this whole pill thing? That was her cry for help.” He got up and brushed his hands against his jeans, sighing. “I can’t help you, Isabel. But you gotta find someone who can.”

She stayed right there, just sitting still while he headed back across the yard, got in his car, and left. Help wasn’t a word that flitted through her mind very often, but whenever it did . . . it felt like something unattainable and far away.

She went upstairs, grabbed a pen and paper, and started writing, wondering if it was possible that she felt the slightest bit inspired. But she only got a few lines down when she felt that familiar mental block that kept her from expanding on it.

If I cry out, will anybody hear me?
Will you? Will he? Will they?
Will I?

She read the words over and over again. At first, they rang out loud in her mind, but gradually, they got softer and softer, until she didn’t even care anymore. So she crumpled up the paper and dropped it into the trash.

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

Another Saturday, another game in Artesia. This one was for all the marbles, though. The Eddy County youth football championship game. The Cardinals got to be the hosts because they were the unbeaten team. Great.

There were fans from all four participating schools there, but the bleachers were mostly covered with people wearing red to support the home team. Since the first matchup was a rematch with the Bulldogs, though, there was some green in the stands, too. Maria looked around for someone to sit by, and lo and behold, there was Sarah, back up at the top of the bleachers. She was sitting by herself this time, though.

“Hey, you,” she said, waving Maria up.

“Hey.” Maria pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands and sat down beside her. “Kinda cold out today.”

“Yeah, Michael called it ‘football weather.’”

Maria shivered, glad that it hadn’t gotten cold out sooner. “I can’t believe this is the last game.”

“I know. I wish I’d seen all of them.”

“No, you don’t,” Maria told her. “They weren’t pretty.” That first one in particular had just been a massacre. “The old coach was an ass. I didn’t even want Dylan to keep playing after the first game, but he wanted to stick with it.”

“Are you glad he did?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, yeah. He’s really loved it these past couple weeks.”

“Good. Michael and Kyle have done a great job.”

“Yeah.” Maria looked down onto the field, and there they were, the coaches, both of them standing on the sideline. No wheelchair for Kyle today. He had crutches, though, to help him stay upright. “So is Tess gonna be here today?” she inquired, returning her attention to Sarah.

“Uh, no. She’s not feeling all that well, so she stayed home,” Sarah replied.

“Oh.” That was fine, Maria supposed. Mall Monday hadn’t been enough to erase Tess’s hostility towards her.

Even though she wasn’t sure if it was her business to ask or not, Maria was curious about just why Tess wasn’t feeling all that well this morning. So she blurted, “Is she pregnant?” without giving it much thought.

Sarah’s mouth opened, but she remained silent, and her whole body tensed up.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Maria told her, realizing she’d probably promised Tess to stay quiet about it. But her silence said it all. Tess was pregnant. She’d suspected as much.

“So where’s Max?” Sarah asked, changing the subject.

“He had to work.” He worked a lot of Saturdays, unfortunately, but as much as it sucked . . . he was the only one who had a job, so they needed the money.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Sarah said.

“Yeah, I know he hates to miss this.” When basketball season rolled around, though, he wouldn’t miss any of those games. He really wanted Dylan to be a great basketball player.

“Well, you’ll just have to take lots of pictures and videos, and then he’ll feel like he was here,” Sarah said.

“That’s the plan,” Maria said, whipping out her phone. She snapped a few photos of Dylan warming up out there on the field, but most of them were kind of blurry.

“I’m glad we have each other to sit with, though,” Sarah said cheerily.

“Yeah.” Maria smiled, just because Sarah was very easy to talk to and get along with. But inside . . . that smile was more of a grimace. Because this still felt weird to her.

After the national anthem played over the loudspeaker, the game began. It was much more official than the other ones had been. There was an announcer and everything, so anytime Dylan made a play, Maria heard something like, “DeLuca with the grab,” or “Nice catch by Dylan DeLuca.”

How is my kid so athletic? she wondered. It must have been all Max’s genes, because he sure as hell hadn’t gotten any of that from her.

Even though they were playing the same team from last week, this game was much more exciting. There was a lot more scoring. Each side had two touchdowns at halftime, and Dylan had been responsible for one of them. Luke had run for the other. It really was like watching a mini-Michael and Kyle out there.

“Oh, I hope they score again,” Sarah said as the third quarter started off.

Maria was lucky to be filming their first offensive play of that half, because it was a big one for Dylan. Luke passed it to him, and even though he bobbled it in his hands, he managed to hold onto it and run halfway towards the end zone before he was tackled. It was a bit too rough of a tackle, one that made the whole crowd groan.

“Oh god,” Maria said, her heart starting to pound worriedly. Her main reservation about football was the physical aggression of it all. It was dangerous. Kyle was proof of that.

Thankfully, Dylan got right back up, though, and moved right back into position. He even started barking orders at the other kids when they didn’t line up correctly.

A few plays later, little Luke was running the ball into the end zone again, and the Bulldogs, much to the surprise of the home team and its fans, were in the lead by six points. And that score stood until the end of the game. Neither offense could get anything going after that, so it was a win. A victory. A first victory for a team that Michael had managed to completely transform.

“Eighteen to twelve. That’s your final score, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. “The Pound Elementary Bulldogs pull the off the upset.”

“Yay!” Sarah squealed, clapping her hands excitedly, leaning over to give Maria a big hug.

“Oh.” Maria somewhat hugged her back as she tried to keep her phone positioned to film the team’s celebration as they all ran towards the sideline. Max would want to see this later.

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

In between games, there was a break. Had to be. Rules stated that a team wasn’t allowed to play again without taking at least a thirty minute break in between. That meant it was going to be a long day. Two other teams had to play, and the Cardinals would play the loser of that game in a battle for third. It would probably be 4:00 by the time the championship game got underway and Dylan played again.

“You did so good out there,” Maria complimented her son as they sat with Michael at a picnic table, eating food from the concession stand.

“Thanks,” he said, shoving half his hotdog into his mouth.

“I’m so proud of you.” As much as she hated the thought of Dylan getting any bigger, she did look forward to cheering him on in all his games over the years. It would be amazing to watch him play in high school if he was already getting this good.

“Are you gonna bring it like that in the next game?” Michael asked, nudging his side.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, good, ‘cause if you win that, you’re a county champion. That’d be pretty cool, huh?”

“Yep.”

Maria sat across the table from them, watching them. Their interaction together was still so . . . natural. Just like it always had been. It was like they’d never even been apart.

Back from the bathroom, Sarah came to sit down beside them, next to Maria and across from Dylan. “Are those nachos any good?” she asked Michael. “I don’t know if I wanna stand in line.”

“Here, share mine,” he offered, sliding them towards her.

Dylan seized the opportunity to reach forward and take a an especially cheesy chip out of the pile.

“Dylan!” Maria hissed.

“What?” he said innocently. “He said share.”

“He was talking to Sarah.”

Michael just chuckled, though. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah, he’s the one who has to play again today. He can have ‘em,” Sarah said.

Dylan eyed her curiously and asked, “Who are you?”

Oh my god, Maria thought, worrying that her son was coming off as rude.

“Oh, me? I’m Sarah. We all went out to eat after your last game,” she reminded him.

“Oh . . .” He lowered his head. “Yeah.”

“Don’t think about that last game,” Michael told him quickly. “Think about the game you just won, alright? And how you won it. You guys were awesome.”

“Okay,” Dylan said, lifting up his head again. He ate another nacho chip, his eyes once again on Sarah. “Are you and Micho married?” he asked bluntly.

“Oh god, Dylan . . .” Maria groaned.

“No, it’s okay,” Sarah said calmly. “Um . . . no, we aren’t married. I’m his girlfriend.”

“Oh.” He thought about it for a moment, then declared, “My mommy’s my dad’s girlfriend.”

Maria glanced at Michael just long enough to see him roll his eyes.

“Yeah,” Sarah said. “It’s like that.”

But Dylan just wouldn’t stop. Like diarrhea of the mouth, he just kept talking. “My mom used to be Micho’s girlfriend.”

“Dylan!” she scolded again. “Can you, like . . . watch what you say a little bit? Please?”

“What?” He still didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. “You were.”

She looked at Michael, and he had that same unsure look on his face that she was sure was on hers. Neither one of them knew how to explain to Dylan that this just wasn’t something they needed to be talking about.

When she looked over at Sarah, though, she felt better, because clearly it wasn’t a big deal to her. She was as at ease with the whole thing as ever, and she was even laughing.

Okay, maybe it is just funny then, Maria decided. Kids said the funniest things and what not. If Sarah didn’t think it was awkward . . . then maybe it didn’t need to be.

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

“Who are we?” Michael bellowed.

“Bulldogs!” the boys yelled.

“What’re we gonna do?”

“Win!”

“When are we gonna do it?”

“Now!”

“Bulldogs on three. One, two, three!”

“Bulldogs!”

Michael had never seen his team more amped up than they were when they took the field for the championship game. Now that they had one victory under their belt, they had that confidence, that belief that they could actually go out there and do it. It was like all the losses had just faded away and didn’t matter anymore.

“Alright, everybody, here we go!” the announcer blared. “The championship game between the Pound Elementary Bulldogs and the Lakewood Pioneers. Give it up for these youngsters as they get set to play.”

Michael clapped, eyeing the other team’s defense suspiciously. They were definitely aggressive. Too aggressive for this age division. “These refs better call the shit outta those guys,” he said to Kyle.

“I know,” Kyle said. “We can’t afford for Luke to get hurt.”

“The Pioneers are coached by Jack Whitestaff, and the Bulldogs are coached by head coach Michael Guerin, and assistant coach Kyle Valenti,” the announcer droned on.

Michael turned around when he heard a loud, “Woo!” come from Sarah, and he smiled and shook his head at her. Didn’t she know no one cheered for the coaches? Beside her, Maria had her hands clasped together in prayer position over her mouth. She looked nervous.

“Come on, let’s get to it,” Kyle groaned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the game. Good luck to both teams,” the announcer finally finished up. The ref set the ball down on the fifty yard line, and the two teams started to line up. It always took them a little while to get positioned.

“Alright, Bulldogs, let’s go!” Michael bellowed. “Start strong now!”

It wasn’t a bad start, but it could have been better. They were able to move the ball against the Pioneers, but only for a few short yards at a time. Luke completed his passes, and Dylan made his catches, and a few of the other kids got in there and made some stuff happen on the run game, too. But when they were down to the ten yard line, Charlie fumbled the snap, and Luke couldn’t recover it. One of the smallest kids on the opposing team pounced on the loose football, and everyone else piled on top of him.

“Ooh.” Michael cringed. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.” He remembered being at the bottom of piles like that. It was never pleasant.

Even though the fumble had been a bad play, the Pioneers couldn’t make anything of it, and at the end of the first quarter, both teams were still scoreless. Halfway through the second quarter, though, the Pioneers surprised the hell out of him by sending out . . . a field goal kicker? Michael doubted it would work, even though it was only ten yards out. But dammit all to hell, that kid actually kicked the football through the goal posts.

“What?” Michael shrieked. “No way.”

“Crap,” Kyle muttered.

The whole Pioneers fan section went nuts, and even some of the Bulldogs fans seemed happy to finally have at least some points on the board.

“Dammit,” Michael swore. What kind of first grader could kick a field goal? There were a lot of high school teams that struggled with that. This kid must have been a soccer player or something. Soccer players usually had a knack for field goals.

With the opposing team up by three, Michael tried to rally his team’s spirits, but they were starting to get those familiar looks of defeat on their faces. They played out the remainder of the quarter, and when halftime hit, Michael was thankful. He had to get these kids’ heads back in the game.

“Listen up, you guys gotta fight for this,” he said as he paced back and forth in front of them on the sidelines. They all looked exhausted. They were sitting down, panting for air, dumping water on their heads. This was a long, tiring, busy day for these little boys.

“Don’t give up, alright?” he went on, looking to Kyle for help.

“Yeah, you know, Michael and I . . . we’ve been in games like this before,” Kyle added, ditching one of his crutches so he could use the other one more like a cane. “We’ve been in positions where we had to come from behind. And you know what? We did, because we fought hard, and we knew we could do it.”

“Do you guys think you can do it?” Michael asked them. “Do you think you can still win?”

Charlie, always the pessimist, yelled, “No!” but Dylan whacked his arm and said, “Shut up, Charlie!” and then exclaimed, “Yeah!” That got a few of the other kids to start agreeing with him.

“Then go out there and get it done,” Michael told them. “This is your field, this is your game. You own this sh--” He trailed off abruptly when he realized he was about to swear in front of them, and he tried to cover it up by saying “—show of emotion . . .” the way Buzz from Home Alone had. They all looked at him like he was crazy. “Alright, just head back out there,” he said.

The motivational speeches must have done the trick, because the team looked a hell of a lot more energetic in the third quarter. Luke made a lot of short passes to Dylan and a few other kids, and he even channeled his inner Kyle Valenti and scrambled forward for a few yards when he had to. It took them a long time to get that ball down to the end zone, but when they did, Luke punched it in. Touchdown time.

“Yes!” Michael yelled, jumping into the air. Oh, they’d needed that.

“There he is!” Kyle hollered, obviously feeling very proud of his young protégée. “He’s the man!”

“Touchdown, Bulldogs!” the announcer rang out. “They take the lead by three.”

It didn’t really matter whether or not they tried kicking an extra point or running a two-point conversion play, because neither one ever seemed to work. Michael knew no one on his team had the leg power to get that ball up between the goal posts, though, so he opted for the two-point try. A short little flick pass to Dylan. And hell, it actually worked. Two more points tacked on, and suddenly they were up by five. He started to get excited, because if they kept this lead, then the Pioneers couldn’t send their freak of nature kicker out there to tie it up with another field goal.

Fourth quarter. All the boys were dragging by now. Neither side had given up by any means, but the strain of playing two games in one day was taking its toll. Most of these kids were probably used to enjoying naptime right about now. This was asking a lot of them.

“Tough on defense now!” Michael kept motivating them. “You guys got this. Just hold ‘em back.”

Unfortunately . . . they didn’t hold ‘em. To start the fourth quarter, the kid playing quarterback for the Pioneers found an opening, and he took it. He wasn’t fast, but he was big, so he just bowled past anyone who was in his way. With sheer and utter determination, he plunged into the end zone, putting his team back up again.

Michael had to disguise his own disappointment. Kyle was better at it than he was. He just kept saying things like, “That’s alright, guys! Now we get the ball back.”

Pioneers brought the kicker kid out again, and he hammered through an extra point. The crowd seemed impressed, but since it was only worth one point, it only put the team up by two.

“We can do this,” Michael said, more to himself than to his team. He was having flashbacks of his own failed moment in the spotlight, the moment of glory he’d literally let slip through his hands. This mattered to him, because he wanted these boys to be able to say they were champions. He wanted them to know from an early age that they were somebody.

The rest of the quarter seemed to fly by, even though the action on the field was dragging. The teams started to go back and forth like they had during the first quarter, neither one of them scoring, nobody busting through to make a big play.

With time ticking down, he saw Dylan signaling to him that he needed a drink of water. He waved him over to the sideline and sent poor, hopeless Melvin out there in his place. Thankfully, Luke had the common sense to not make that one a pass play, and he just ran it instead, getting a few more yards. They weren’t in a bad position at the twenty yard line with a minute and a half left to go. Luke could throw pretty far, and Michael was starting to think that was their best option, because the Pioneers’ secondary was looking pretty depleted.

“You think you got a big play in you?” he asked Dylan.

Helmet off, gulping down a Styrofoam cup of water, Dylan just looked at him with wide, worried eyes.

“I think you do,” he decided. “You can do it, buddy.”

“I’m scared,” Dylan said.

“Don’t be scared,” Michael told him. “You got this.” He watched his team run another play, and it wasn’t a positive one. Luke got pushed back three or four yards, and it brought up fourth down.

“This is it,” Kyle said.

“Yep.” Michael waited until the clock had ticked down to about ten seconds, then called his last timeout. If they did indeed get it in the end zone here, he didn’t want to leave the other team any extra time to score again.

His team came over, all of them breathing hard and looking up at him with questioning eyes.

“Okay, Luke, you’re gonna pass it,” Michael instructed his quarterback.

“To me?” Melvin asked hopefully.

“No, not to you, Melvin.” Poor kid didn’t stand a chance. “To Dylan. All the way to the end zone.”

Luke and Dylan exchanged a look, and Luke smiled confidently. Dylan must have been having flashbacks to last weekend’s game, though, because he looked like his stomach was in knots.

“Offensive line’s gotta stand strong,” Michael reminded everyone. “Give him time to make that throw.”

“You guys know you got this, right?” Kyle said. “You’re gonna be champions.”

The boys started to look excited, but Dylan still looked worried. All that usual eagerness just seemed zapped from his body.

“Alright, one last time,” Michael said, putting his hand in the center of the circle. All the boys did the same. “Bulldogs on three. One, two, three!”

“Bulldogs!”

The boys trotted back out onto the field, but Dylan didn’t go with them. He was holding his stomach now, as if he were going to be sick, but Michael knew it was just nerves.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling down in front of him. “Just pretend like it’s you and me, and we’re out in the backyard throwin’ the football around like we used to. Okay? There’s no one else out there.”

One of the refs impatiently blew his whistle, motioning for Michael to get Dylan back out on the field.

“Okay,” Dylan said, managing a small smile.

“Okay. You got this, buddy.” He quickly helped Dylan put his helmet back on, then gave him a pat on the back as he returned to the field.

“That kid loves you, man,” Kyle said.

Yeah, Michael thought. I love him, too. He looked back up into the stands again. Sarah was holding up a phone and filming, and Maria just had her hands over her face, her eyes peeking out between her fingers.

“Looks like it’s all gonna come down to this, folks,” the announcer said. “The Bulldogs are either gonna win the game or lose it on this one play.”

“God, I wish he’d shut up,” Michael grumbled. He knew that when you were out on the field, you weren’t really listening to anything the announcer was saying, but still . . . he didn’t want to risk any of his players hearing that. They were already feeling enough pressure as it was.

He kept his eyes on Dylan, his heart pounding as fast and as loud as it would have been if he’d been the one out on the field. He knew Dylan could do this. He believed in him.

****

“Alright, you ready?”

Dylan nodded, holding his hands straight up in the air, as if he were signalling a touchdown.

“Okay, put your hands down a little bit,” Michael instructed. “Like, by your face.”

Dylan immediately slapped his hands over his eyes.

“No, not on your face.”

Maria laughed. She was sitting out on one of their rickety old lawn chairs, watching.

“He’s gonna get it,” Michael promised her. “Trust me.” She didn’t know it yet, but her son was going to grow up to be one hell of an athlete. Because he was going to teach him.

****

“He’s gonna get it,” he found himself saying as he tried to squash his own nerves. “He’s gonna get it.”

“Set!” Luke’s high-pitched voice rang out. “Hike!”

It was a perfect snap. Luke had the ball in both hands and was moving around in the pocket, not rushed, not panicked. The protection around him held up nicely; none of the defenders moved through. He had at least five seconds to set up the play, and it was set up beautifully. Dylan ran towards the end zone, and there was only one guy with him.

Michael held his breath as Luke released the ball into the air. It sailed over everyone else in the field, a perfect pass straight in Dylan’s direction. It was a little high, but Dylan leapt for it. It was in his hands . . .

Boom. His feet hit the turf, and the ball was cradled right in his arms, right where it needed to be.

“Touchdown, Bulldogs!” the announcer proclaimed.

“Woohoo! Yeah!” Michael shouted, jumping up and down excitedly. Kyle ditched his other crutch quickly, and practically pounced on him. All their fans in the stands started to scream and shout with excitement, and on the field, the boys all ran towards Dylan, who was the picture of elation as he held the ball up in the end zone.

“And that’s the ballgame folks. The Bulldogs win it on the last play, a pass to Dylan DeLuca. Your final score, fourteen to ten. Congratulations to the Pound Elementary Bulldogs for winning the Eddy County Youth Football Championship!”

“Woo!” Michael blasted, running right out onto the field to celebrate with his team. Kyle even came with him, albeit at a slower pace.

“Good job, guys!” he said, giving each of them a high-five as he walked past them. “Knew you could do it.” Dylan was still in the end zone, just staring at the football in amazement now, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Come here, you,” Michael said, bending down. Dylan threw his arms around him, hugging him eagerly.

“I’m so proud of you,” Michael told him. From that very first night out in the backyard, he’d dreamed about seeing this day, this moment for this little boy.

“That was awesome!” Dylan exclaimed.

Michael smiled at him and agreed, “It was epic. You won that game. You did so good.”

Dylan giggled, handed him the football, and said, “Thanks, Dad,” and then ran right past him.

Michael remained knelt down there, momentarily stunned. Was that . . . had he just said . . . ?

He stood up and turned around. Dylan was running across the field to Maria, who was coming down from the bleachers with a bunch of the other parents. He ran to her and jumped into her arms.

He’s excited, Michael figured. He just won. So what if Dylan had slipped back into old habits and called him Dad? They were county champions now, so for today, he could just let it slide.








TBC . . .

-April

The messed up group of people continue on with their journey.
As I mentioned "over there" Michael is not treating Sarah fair.
And Dylan's slip up calling Michael "dad" will not be forgotten or overlooked.
I'm expecting an explosion somewhere soon in this not so perfect world.
Thanks,
Carolyn

YAY!! Champions! Well done kids. And what a great coaching duo Michael and Kyle have turned out to be. I also like that Kyle tossed his crutch aside to join the kids...YES! Great update.

Carolyn:

I'm expecting an explosion somewhere soon in this not so perfect world.

My fics always have explosions. Heck, in the last one, there was a REAL explosion. No real ones here, but there could definitely be a metaphorical one.


Sara:

And what a great coaching duo Michael and Kyle have turned out to be. I also like that Kyle tossed his crutch aside to join the kids...YES!

They've done very well with these kids, and it's been a much-needed experience for Kyle in particular.



Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!








Part 32








Even though Max only felt like he’d been home for five minutes, he realized he’d nodded off for about half an hour when the front door opened and in flew Dylan, jolting him awake.

“Dad, guess what?” he said, jumping onto the couch. “We won!”

Max rubbed is eyes and yawned, trying to get his bearings. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Dylan started bouncing up and down, a bundle of energy and excitement.

Oh, man, he thought regretfully. I wish I could’ve been there to see it. “That’s awesome,” he said. “Good job.”

Maria kicked off her shoes and came to join them, perching herself on the arm of the couch. “It was amazing. He scored a touchdown in the first game, and then in the second game, he ended up scoring the game-winner.”

“What? Wow.” Max held up his hand for a high five, and Dylan gave it to him.

“Yeah! It was like . . . wham!” he babbled hopping down off the couch. “And I was like . . .” He proceeded to act out the entire play, though he was mostly just spinning all around and flailing his arms.

“He’s a little hyper,” Maria said, handing him her phone. “Here, I recorded as much as I could. But I was so nervous at the end that Sarah had to film it.”

“Oh, Sarah was there again, huh?” he said.

“Yep.” She smiled sympathetically and said, “I wish you could’ve been there.”

“Yeah.” As fun as it was to see Dylan so overjoyed, it didn’t compare to the real thing. He’d missed a huge moment in Dylan’s life, one that he would always remember. But what could he do? He had to work. He had to make money so he could provide for them.

“Alright, champ, I think it’s time for a victory bath,” Maria announced.

Dylan stopped whirling around and pouted exaggeratedly. “Do I hafta?”

“Yes. You got really dirty today.”

He gave her a mischievous look, and Max knew what was going to happen before Dylan even took off running. This was their nightly routine. He ran around the house, and she eventually caught him and got him in the tub. He seemed to hate baths less, however, when they made a game out of it.

“I’m gonna get you!” she squealed, taking off after him.

Max kicked his legs up onto the coffee table and found the videos on Maria’s phone, settling in to watch them. This was the next best thing to actually being there.

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

Sarah had texted Tess periodically throughout the day to update her on how the game was going, so she knew the team had won before Kyle got home and started raving about it. It was almost surreal to see him so animated. He couldn’t—and in fact wouldn’t—stop talking about it. He was up on his feet and everything. No chair. No support. Just him and his stories about all the great plays these kids had made today.

This is it, she thought, working up her inner courage as she watched him and only halfway listened. It’s the right time.

“Oh, Tess, you should’ve been there,” he said for the umpteenth time. “It was amazing. It was huge. It was huge for these kids.”

Surely it was a big deal to them, but she sensed that it was an even bigger deal to him. Maybe he didn’t even realize it, but something about coaching this team and being out on the field again, even in a non-player capacity . . . it had sparked a liveliness in him, one that had been buried for a long, long time.

And that was why it was time to tell him. Tonight.

“Wow, Kyle,” she said, hearing the lingering traces of nervousness in her own voice. “That sounds amazing.”

“It was.” He walked over to the couch, but instead of sitting down, he just stood there, smiling and shaking his head as though he still couldn’t believe it had happened.

“Well, I’m really glad you guys won,” she said, moving towards him, fretfully wringing her fingers together. “Actually, I’m really glad you’re in such a good mood right now, because there’s—there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He was so caught up in his own excitement, though, that he wasn’t really listening. “Oh, I didn’t even tell you about the trophy they won.”

“Kyle . . .” She didn’t care about the trophy.

“I mean, this thing is bigger than half the kids on the team. I’m not even exaggerating.”

“Kyle.” She couldn’t keep this from him any longer.

“I won plenty of games when I was young, but I don’t think they ever gave me a trophy like that.”

“Kyle, I’m pregnant.” The words fled her mouth abruptly; there was nothing she could do to stop them. And once they were out, she literally held her breath.

He became so quiet so quickly that it scared her. Right away, there was this confused, caught-off-guard look on his face, and his whole body sort of just . . . froze.

“What?” he finally managed to choke out.

Clearly he’d heard her. Why did she have to say it again? “I’m pregnant,” she repeated, holding one hand to her stomach. She tried to smile, but it was a shaky grin at best, and it gave way almost immediately. “Kyle, say something,” she begged, needing to know how he was feeling about this, what he was thinking.

He didn’t say anything, though. Instead, he did the worst thing he possibly could have done in that moment: He sat down on the couch.

“I know it wasn’t . . . planned,” she acknowledged meekly, looking down at him, “but . . .” Her breathing was starting to come more rapidly now, sped up by anxiety. “Kyle, I really need you to . . . just react,” she told him.

“I don’t . . . what am I supposed to say?” he sputtered unsurely. “How did this happen?”

She gave him a look. Did he really need an explanation?

“No, I mean . . . I know how,” he said, “but . . . weren’t you on the pill?”

“Well, yeah, but--”

“But?”

“It’s just—I wasn’t really taking it every day,” she admitted.

“What?” he shrieked. “What’s the point of it then?”

“Kyle, we hardly ever have sex,” she pointed out. “I didn’t think--”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought about it.”

She huffed, hating the harshness of his tone. “Well, guess what: It takes two, guy-with-no-condom.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?”

“No! It’s—it’s no one’s fault.” She hated that he would even use that word to describe their . . . situation. Despite that, she tried to maintain her cool, because she knew that one of them would need to. And clearly that wasn’t going to be him. “Look, I always assumed we’d start a family someday. Even back in high school, we always used to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but it was gonna be down the road.”

She motioned wildly about their house and said, “We are down the road.”

“Not really. You’re twenty years old, Tess. I’m only twenty-one.”

She knew he was trying to use their age to point out how young they still were, but in all honesty, she hadn’t felt young for one second since he’d taken that fateful hit on that stupid field. “We’re not kids anymore, Kyle.”

“That doesn’t mean . . .” He trailed off, digging one hand through his hair, lowering his head, moaning, “Oh my god,” as though the thought of this actually pained him.

“I’m sorry, but are you not the least bit happy?” she asked, fighting to keep her panicked tears inside where they belonged. “Because a minute ago you were so happy.”

“I was,” he agreed.

“Okay, ‘cause I just thought—I don’t know—maybe finding out you’re gonna be a dad would excite you a little more than winning a football game would.”

“How did you expect me to react?” he barked out angrily.

“Not like this.” Despite all her best efforts to not cry, a few tears spilled over, and she had to wipe them away. “God, I thought you would be, like, yeah, scared and stuff, but . . . supportive, too.”

“Supportive?” he echoed as though he didn’t even understand what the word meant. “I can’t . . . god, Tess, I can’t . . .”

“You can’t what?” she prompted. “You can’t support this?”

“No, maybe I can’t.”

When he said that . . . it felt like her whole stomach just dropped to the floor. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Look at me!” he cried. “Look at me, Tess!”

She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears fell over, and she shook her head adamantly. No, she didn’t want to look at him. Not when he was like this.

“I’m not even the same guy I used to be! I’m not the guy you fell in love with.”

A giant sob shook her body, and she covered up her face with one hand, keeping the other on her stomach.

“I can’t do any of the things I used to do!” he went on, like one giant wail of agony. “What’s gonna happen when we our kid wants me to run around and play tag with him? Or play football?”

“Then you’ll coach him,” she whimpered, “just like you did all those kids today.”

“No, it’s not . . . it’s not the same!” he yelled. “You don’t get it!”

No, she thought. I don’t.

“What if we have a daughter, and she wants me to walk her down the aisle someday? And I can’t do that.”

“You can walk!” she yelled back at him.

“Not like I used to!”

“That doesn’t matter, Kyle!” God, she felt like pulling her hair out; he was being so ridiculous. It was like he was just permanently stuck in the past, and no matter how many times she tried to reach him and pull him out . . . he just stayed there.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, but there didn’t seem to be much genuine sentiment behind it. “I know this isn’t what you wanna hear, but . . . I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just not ready to be a dad.”

She snorted, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure you have much choice in that.”

He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t have to. He got this stern, sudden look on his face, and as he stared at nothing in particular, she could see him . . . thinking. Considering options.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, horrified. “Kyle . . .” He wouldn’t actually suggest it. Would he? “No.”

“Tess . . .”

“Don’t.” Her heart would seriously break into pieces if he even said it.

“I don’t think you should you have this baby, Tess.”

And just like that . . . it shattered. She felt like it was glass, and that cruel suggestion was a giant sledgehammer slamming onto it mercilessly. “What?” she barely managed to choke out.

“I just . . . I don’t think you should,” he repeated quietly, his voice cloaked with emotion. He swallowed hard and averted her eyes, clearly ashamed.

She staggered around a bit, literally feeling dizzy, barely able to keep her balance. Was this really happening? It couldn’t be. Because there was no way . . . even though he was depressed and not himself, there was no way Kyle would tell her to get an abortion.

“Get out,” she growled, barely even able to look at him without hating him in that moment. She didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. She wanted him gone.

“Tess . . .” He actually had the audacity to reach up and grab her hand, but she jerked it away from him.

“I said get out!” She backed away, glaring at him in outrage. How dare he even try to touch her after all of this. She wouldn’t let him.

Seemingly resigned, he pushed himself up off the couch and stumbled over to his wheelchair. He got into it and wheeled himself past her wordlessly. He had to lean forward to open the door, and he didn’t bother to reach back to shut it on his way out. So she stomped over there and slammed it for him, then leaned back against it, slid down to the floor, and sobbed.

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

Sarah had this special paper to print photos on, so when they got home, she wasted no time printing off the picture of the team posing with their trophy. Dylan and Luke were in the front row, each with a hand on it, and Michael and Kyle were standing on either side of the back row.

“Here we go,” she said as she latched it into a picture frame. She carefully hung it up on the wall right to the side of their TV. When she seemed sure it was straight, she stepped back and declared, “Perfect.”

“That looks good,” Michael agreed. The trophy itself was sitting on the floor below that picture. He was going to have to take it to school on Monday and see if there was any kind of trophy case where they could display it. It wasn’t real gold, obviously, but it was shiny and flashy as hell. Engraved on the bottom were the words 2015 Champions: Eddy County Youth Football.

“You did a good thing with that team, Michael,” Sarah said, swaying towards him.

“Yeah, they picked the right day to show up and win, huh?” That was the nice thing about youth football. The rest of the season didn’t matter.

“It’s about more than just winning,” she said. “It’s teamwork and confidence and all that good stuff.”

“Yeah.” Those boys were definitely going to have more confidence now, and they’d worked together pretty well. “I guess I did alright.”

“You did better than alright. In fact . . .” She hooked her hands into his belt loops and pulled his waist closer to hers. “I think we should have a victory celebration.”

“A victory celebration?” he echoed, grinning. “How are we gonna celebrate?” As if he didn’t already know.

“However you want,” she answered flirtatiously.

Hell yeah. He lifted her up and set her down on the kitchen table, immediately moving himself in between her legs as he kissed her. His tongue jutted into her mouth right away, and his hand slithered up under her shirt. She’d already gotten dressed in her pajamas, so she was braless. Perfect.

Just as he’d started to caress her, though, there was a loud knock on the door. He stilled, groaned, and told her, “Hold that thought,” as he went to see who it was.

He’d barely opened the door and said, “Kyle,” when Shango hopped down off the couch and raced forward, jumping up into Kyle’s lap. Kyle started petting him right away. “What’re you doin’ here?” Michael asked him.

Instead of answering, he just said, “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Michael stepped aside, opening the door as wide as he could so that Kyle could maneuver his wheelchair inside. It was crowded, that was for sure. This small apartment really wasn’t designed for such a bulky thing.

Michael shut the door and shot Sarah a quick look. Her expression was a questioning one, but he didn’t know why Kyle was there any more than she did, so he just shrugged.

“Hey, Kyle,” she greeted, sliding down off the table.

“Oh, hey, Sarah,” he mumbled, trying to wheel himself in front of the couch. There were a few books on the floor in the way, though, so eventually he just locked his chair into place, got up, and took three steps towards the couch, sitting down eagerly, still with Shango in his lap.

“What’s up, man?” Michael asked, unlocking the chair so he could fold it up and push it aside. “Haven’t had your fill of me today?”

Kyle didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile.

“Did you wheel yourself all the way over here?” Michael asked him.

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t drive, did I?” he snapped back.

“Sorry. Just askin’.” Kyle had to be driven everywhere, because he still didn’t have enough motor control to operate a vehicle. “You okay?”

“No.” He kept petting Shango, never looking up from the dog. “Tess and I got in a fight.”

Michael looked over at Sarah again. He could tell they were both thinking the same thing: She told him. It seemed . . . pretty obvious, but he asked anyway, “About what?”

Kyle sighed and revealed, “She’s pregnant.” Except it wasn’t much of a reveal at all, and when he looked up and saw both of them trying to act surprised, he saw right through it. “And you both knew.”

“Kyle, she asked us not to say anything,” Sarah told him.

“I haven’t known for long,” Michael added.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kyle’s eyes were full of anger and accusation, but it was all directed at Michael, not at Sarah.

“ ‘cause I promised Tess I wouldn’t. She had to be the one to tell you. You know that, man.” It didn’t matter that they were best friends. He would have had no right to spill the beans about this. “So I take it you’re not handling it well,” he deduced. Wasn’t a hard deduction.

“How am I supposed to raise a kid?” Kyle wailed. “Honestly, I can’t even take care of myself. I’m so fucked up.”

“Well . . .” Michael couldn’t really argue that, but at least things had been better these past couple weeks. He sat down beside him, speculating, “Maybe having a kid would help motivate you to get better. I mean, Luke and Dylan and all those guys on the team . . . they motivated you.”

Kyle shook his head. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

“Kyle?” Sarah walked softly into the living room, halfway cringing when she asked, “What exactly did you say to Tess that made you come all the way over here?”

“I just told her how I feel.”

“What’d you say?” Michael prodded. It must have been pretty bad.

Kyle sighed, drew it out for a few seconds, then muttered, “I told her I don’t wanna be a dad.”

“Well, you’re gonna be,” Michael responded simply.

“Not necessarily.”

“What’re you--?” He trailed off abruptly when he sensed what Kyle was talking about. He thought about Max and Maria and that whole situation, and how fucked up that had all been, and he couldn’t even believe his best friend would consider doing the same thing. “Oh, no. No. You can’t leave her to fend for herself here. Come on, man, she shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t do it at all,” he grumbled.

It took a second for that to sink it, but when it did, Sarah let out a little gasp, and Michael’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he roared, shooting to his feet.

“I’m just saying, it’s an option.”

“Are you . . .” He threw his hands up in disbelief. “. . . fucking kidding me? Are you out of your mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Well, my spine, for starters.”

“What the hell is your fucking problem?” he blasted. “Tess tells you she’s pregnant, and this is how you react?”

“Michael . . .” Sarah said softly, as if to caution him not to get too mad.

“No, this is bullshit!” he yelled, literally resisting the urge to smack some sense into this guy he used to look up to. “Do you know where I’d be right now if my dad had gotten his way? I wouldn’t be anywhere; I wouldn’t exist. We wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Just thinking about it made a chill run up his spine. “Is that what you want for your kid? Do you really just wanna abort your own child?”

“No!” Kyle said.

“Then why would you even consider it?”

“I just . . .” Kyle whole face contorted as he started to cry. “I don’t know. I’m so confused. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Sarah scampered into the bedroom to find her phone, undoubtedly to call Tess and check in on her.

“Did you suggest this to Tess?” Michael kept on. “Did you tell her to get an abortion?”

“Not in those exact words.”

“But you implied it.” Michael snorted, astonished, and paced back and forth a bit, more pissed off than he’d been in a long time. “God, you’re really a son of a bitch right now, Kyle. I can’t believe we’re even talkin’ about this.”

“Oh, well, sorry, Michael,” Kyle apologized sarcastically. “Sorry I’m not more like you. Sorry I’m not gonna jump at the first chance I get to be a father, even though it’s obvious I’m not ready for it.”

Michael winced inwardly, glancing over at Sarah. She had frozen and tensed up mid-dial, and she frowned a bit. But then she kept dialing.

“You’re an ass right now,” Michael flat-out told him.

“Fine, I’m an ass.”

“Um, Kyle?” Sarah piped up. “Tess isn’t answering.”

“She probably won’t,” he said.

“Maybe I should go over there?” she proposed.

“No, just give her some space,” he said. “She’s upset.”

“Imagine that,” Michael grumbled.

“Can I just stay here tonight?” Kyle practically begged, his voice quivering. “Please?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he laid down on the couch, and he seemed literally heartbroken when Shango jumped down and he couldn’t pet him anymore. It was like that had been the only thing making him feel better.

Too pissed to even talk to him anymore, Michael left him there to wallow in self-pity and shuffled towards Sarah, mumbling unhappily, “Guess our celebration’s gonna have to wait.”

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

Even though he was tired as hell, Michael got up early to drive Kyle back home. Tess had sent Sarah a few text messages last night telling her not to worry and that she was going to be okay, but she and Kyle weren’t going to be okay as a couple if they stayed apart for too long. Michael knew that the sooner Kyle got his ass back home, manned up, and apologized, the better off they would be.

“So where’s your head at today?” he asked as he unloaded the wheelchair from the trunk of his car.

“Still all over the place,” Kyle admitted.

Michael slammed his trunk shut, unfolded the chair, and wheeled it over to Kyle. “What’re you gonna say to her?” he asked.

Kyle shrugged and sat down. “Start with sorry and go from there, I guess.”

“Are you sorry?” Michael challenged. It’d be worthless if he didn’t really mean it.

“Yeah,” Kyle confessed. “I don’t . . .” He shook his head as Michael wheeled him forward. “I don’t really want her to get an abortion. I don’t even know why I said that.”

Well, clearly having a night to sleep on this life-changing revelation had been good for Kyle. He’d calmed down a lot, and Michael had calmed down a lot, and now maybe there was some actual hope that Tess could forgive him for being such a monumental jackass.

“Sorry I chewed you out,” Michael said as he pushed Kyle up the ramp to his front door.

“No, I probably needed it,” Kyle mumbled in admittance. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Michael leaned forward and twisted the doorknob, opening it up. “Tess?” he called. He pushed Kyle inside and shut the door behind him. It was almost eerily quiet in that house. He was so used to hearing the TV on when he came over.

“Tess?” Kyle said quietly.

“Doesn’t seem like she’s home,” Michael remarked. “Her car was gone. Is she at work?”

“I don’t think so.” Kyle held on tightly to the arms of his chair and pushed himself up into a standing position. He slowly made his way into the living room, and Michael decided to go check back in the bedroom.

“Tess?” he said as he opened up the door and peeked in. But she wasn’t in there, either. There were clothes strewn all about, though, and the closet door was hanging open. It looked . . . almost empty.

Oh, shit, he thought, sensing that he already knew where Tess was. He checked the bathroom, opening up the cabinets to find that they were half empty, too. It was like all her stuff wasn’t there.

When he got back out to the living room, Kyle was just sitting there on the couch, looking lost and dumbfounded as he held a small paper in his hand. “She’s gone,” he said dazedly.

Fuck. He should have brought Kyle back last night instead of letting him crash on his couch.

Michael went up to him and took the note out of his hand, giving it a quick read-through. Just as he’d thought, she said she went back to Roswell to go stay with her family. The last line said, Now you don’t have to be a dad.

Michael sighed, worrying that there wasn’t going to be a way to fix this big of a problem. Tess had never left Kyle before, even though she’d probably thought about it dozens of times.

He handed the note back to his devastated friend, and Kyle stared at it hopelessly for a few seconds before crumpling it in his hand before leaning forward to shut his eyes and hang his head. He looked the worst Michael had ever seen him look, even worse than he’d been in the hospital when they’d told him that his football career was over. And that was saying something.

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

When Michael got back from Kyle’s, he found Sarah on the couch, studying.

“Hey,” she said. “How’s Tess?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “She left.”

“What?” Sarah immediately checked her phone, as if she’d expected Tess to text her about that or something.

“Went home,” he said, flopping down beside her on the middle cushion that sank in a little too far. “So you know what that means? Now I gotta drag my ass back to Roswell, get her, and bring her back here so she and Kyle can work things out.”

“Do you think they can?” she asked.

“I hope so.” If Kyle didn’t have Tess . . . then he’d really have nothing. When Michael had left him, he’d had the remote in his hand and was channel surfing, claiming he’d be okay, but honestly, he didn’t want to leave him alone there too long. Isolation wasn’t good for a guy like Kyle.

“Well, he seemed like he was doing better this morning,” Sarah remarked.

“Yeah. He’s pretty catatonic right now, though. That’s why I have to get Tess back here.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” she suggested. “Or I could go and you could stay here with Kyle.”

“It’s fine. I got it,” he assured her. “I know exactly where she lives. I’ll be there and back in no time.” He got to his feet and headed over to the dresser to find some different clothes to wear. The shirt he had on right now was the one he’d slept in last night.

“Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?” He sniffed a grey Metallica t-shirt, figuring it would do, and peeled off his old one.

“What did Kyle mean when he said he wasn’t like you?” she inquired. “Something about being a dad without actually being ready for it?”

Michael groaned on the inside, stopping what he was doing. He just stood there for a moment with the shirt in his hand, silently lamenting that he was now going to have to tell her yet another thing about his past. “A couple years ago . . .” he said, “Maria and I thought she might be pregnant. But she wasn’t. Obviously.” There. Enough said. He put the new shirt on, eager to get out on the road and get this done.

“But you were . . . excited about it?” she asked.

“Well, no. I mean, I was eighteen. But I wasn’t . . . I wasn’t dreading it, either.” It was a confusing thing for him to think about, even now.

“Were you disappointed that she wasn’t?”

He shut the dresser drawer, mumbling, “A little bit.” Shit, if he had to tell her all this stuff, he’d better at least be honest about it. “I was young. Stupid. Naïve. Thought I could handle it. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, of course.” He made his way behind the couch, bent down, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back later.” And then he practically bolted, not only because it was best to get Tess back to Carlsbad as soon as possible, but also because he just didn’t want to go any more in-depth in this conversation.

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

Fucking Roswell.

Words couldn’t describe the dark cloud that hovered over Michael from the moment he crossed the city limits. He kept reminding himself that it would just be a quick trip. In and out. Just like sex. Only less pleasurable.

Even with that mindset, though, he found himself taking a detour from the route to Tess’s house, driving the familiar streets towards his own instead. Taking a left instead of a right, hitting the brakes when he should have kept going. He pulled up outside his house, figuring that, even though he was popping in unannounced, someone was likely to be there. It was Sunday morning, after all. Wasn’t like they’d be in church or anything.

His mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but he headed up to the front door anyway. It was locked, so he used his key to let himself in, and right away . . .

“Jesus Christ,” he swore. Nicholas was on top of Tina on the couch, and they were making out. Hands everywhere. Not a sight he wanted to see.

“Michael!” Tina gasped in surprise, squirming up into a seated position. “What’re you doing here?”

He ignored her and spoke straight to Nicholas. “Get out.”

Nicholas, like the idiot he was, just sat there, sputtering, “I—I didn’t—I wasn’t--”

“Get out,” Michael repeated vehemently, “before I punch your face in.”

Nicholas stumbled to his feet, sidestepping past Michael with his hands up, as if to shield himself. Once he was out the door, he literally ran.

“God, Michael,” Tina said, grabbing a pillow to hold over her stomach. “You didn’t have to be so mean.”

“No, actually, I did,” he argued, shutting the door. “I’m your big brother, remember?”

“You scared him.”

“Good.” Kid was a wimp anyway.

She rolled her eyes.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked. Tina was pretty brazen these days, but he doubted even she’d be daring enough to do this shit with their mom around.

“She’s at the store,” Tina replied.

“Oh, so while she’s out getting groceries, you’re getting felt up.”

“He is my boyfriend, you know.”

“I really don’t care, you know.” He headed into the kitchen, got a bottle of water out of the fridge, took a swig, and went back in the living room, finding that he wished she would move that pillow. He wanted to see how big she was at this point so he had a better idea of how much time he had left to talk some sense into her about her decision.

“Why are you here?” she asked him again.

He didn’t sit down, only because he didn’t intend to stay long. “Gotta get Tess.”

“Tess?” she echoed. “She’s here?”

“Yeah.”

For a second, her eyes lit up. “Is Kyle?” It was like that old childhood crush she’d had on him still existed.

“No. They’re, uh . . . they’re having problems.”

“Oh.” She grimaced. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, you’d better hope they work it out.”

“Why?”

“ ‘cause if even Tess and Kyle don’t end up together, there’s really no hope for you and Nicholas, is there?”

“Oh.” She made a face and fake-laughed. “God, you’re a jerk today.”

He shrugged unapologetically. “I don’t wanna be here.”

“So leave.”

“I will.” He just stood there, though, and she kept looking at him expectantly. In the back of his mind, he knew what he wanted to say to her; he just didn’t know if there was any point to it.

“What?” she finally said.

“It’s just . . .” He narrowed his eyes at her, hating this whole icy demeanor/bitchy attitude she had going on. The teen years were just starting, too. He was going to have to deal with a lot more of this. “I heard what you said to Maria.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“She told me.”

Tina’s eyebrows rose up, as if she were intrigued now. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to make it seem like they were just casually hanging out all the time, though, so he added, “In class.”

“Right, the class,” she said. “Are you guys still gonna talk and hang out and stuff after that’s done?”

“We’re not hanging out,” he denied.

“Not at all?”

“No. Well . . .” There were the football games and stuff, but that was different. “Sarah’s been gettin’ to know her a little bit.”

“Does she like her?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she really likes her?”

“Yeah, she--” Fuck, he thought, realizing she’d tricked him into getting off topic. “Would you just answer the question?”

“I forget the question,” she said with a flippant shrug.

“Why’d you lay into Maria when she was here? She was just tryin’ to help you.”

“Uh, she didn’t help, first of all,” Tina informed him. “And second . . . she deserved it. She broke up with you, remember?”

“People break up,” he said. “You and Nicholas are probably gonna break up someday. Are you gonna hold that against him?”

“We’re not gonna break up,” she insisted blindly.

“Oh, that’s right, you won’t. ‘cause you live in perfect fairytale land.” He smirked.

She glared at him. “Michael. You’re not seriously mad at me for fighting with Maria, are you? I just said all the things you wanted to say.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Stubbornly, she sat back, crossing her arms and her legs. “She didn’t love you.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You made her feel like crap, and all she was doing was trying to give you some advice.”

“I didn’t ask for advice,” she reminded him. “And I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“But maybe you need one.” He shook his head, completely disgusted with her attitude. Somewhere deep down inside, he knew there were still the remnants of young girl who was terrified of the path she was on. But until she wanted to put those pieces of herself back together, there wasn’t much he could do. “You know what? Screw it,” he decided. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” He headed for the door, but just as he opened it, she called him back.

“Michael.”

Annoyed, he stopped and looked back at her.

“You have to be careful with Maria,” she warned, her eyes locked with his as she said it, “because if you’re not . . . Tess and Kyle won’t be the only couple having problems.”

That had to be the first thing she’d said since he walked in that wasn’t dripping with teenage dramatics. In fact, she actually sounded like she was sincerely cautioning him. And he couldn’t deny that hearing her say that . . . it put him on edge a little.

“I’m serious,” she said.

Yeah, he knew she was. But he was serious, too, when he suggested, “Worry about your own life. I got mine under control.” Overwhelmed with disappointment in the way this whole conversation had gone, he left, wishing now that he’d never even stopped by in the first place.

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

A kid with blonde hair came to the door when Michael rang the bell. Which younger brother was this? He couldn’t remember. “Hi,” he said. “Is Tess here?”

“Tess!” the kid yelled shrilly, letting Michael come inside.

Tess’s family’s house was so big and nice—the total opposite of where she and Kyle lived now—that Michael felt obligated to take his shoes off at the door. He waited for Tess to come downstairs, and when she did, she didn’t look particularly thrilled to see him.

“Took you longer than I thought,” she muttered.

“Did Sarah tell you I was coming?” he asked.

“No. But I knew you would. You are gonna be a counselor, after all.”

“Well, not a marriage one.”

She grunted. “Good thing Kyle and I aren’t married then.” She sat down on the second to last step of the staircase, sighing. “Look, Michael, I know you’re just here to help, and you want us to work things out, but . . . I just don’t know if that’s possible.”

“It’s possible,” he assured her, sitting down next to her. “He wants to.”

“No, you didn’t hear what he said,” she mumbled, sounding . . . resigned. Defeated. “And even if you knew, you’d still defend him, because he’s, like, your bromantic soul mate or whatever. And that’s fine. I get it. I really do. It’s just--”

“I know what he said,” Michael cut in. “He told me.”

“He did?” She sounded surprised. “Well, then hopefully you can understand why I didn’t wanna stick around.”

“I understand,” he said, “but you’re gonna have a baby with this guy.”

“Am I?” She dabbed at her eyes as she started to cry. “Because he made it pretty clear he has no interest in that.”

“He’s just freaked out,” Michael assured her. “And I know that doesn’t excuse half the shit he said, but he’s already doin’ better now that he’s had a night to sleep on it. I promise you, Tess, if you come back with me, you guys can work things out.”

“I don’t even know if I want to anymore,” she pondered sadly. “Maybe I am just better off doing this on my own.”

“Kyle can be a good dad,” Michael insisted. “You know he can. That guy who used to sit and talk baby names with you . . . that guy still exists. Trust me. I saw him every second he was with those kids on the team. He’s still there, Tess.”

She sniffled, shaking her head doubtfully. “I don’t know . . .”

“He’s still there,” Michael reiterated. Maybe if he said it enough, she’d start to believe it.

“He wanted me to have an abortion, Michael,” she ground out. “Do you have any idea what it was like to hear him say that?”

“He doesn’t really want that,” Michael assured her. “His emotions were just all over the place, and I don’t even think he really knew what he was saying.”

“Well, he still said it.”

“He’s not sayin’ it now. Tess . . .” He understood her resistance, but he’d get down on his knees and beg if he had to. “Just come back with me. Give him another chance.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, put her hands over her face, and cried. She couldn’t say anything, but she nodded wordlessly, and he got the message.

“Come here,” he said, putting his arm around her, pulling her into a hug against his side. He sensed she’d been wanting to cry like this for a long time, so he figured he could just sit there with her while she let it all out. And then they could go home.








TBC . . .

-April

What an exciting part......
First, yes Max should have gone to Dylan's game. That was a highlight in his life!
Then Kyle's attitude regarding Tess's news was surprising.
I don't blame Tess for leaving, I would have done the same thing.
Lots of problems to be resolved, and I don't see a real quick solution to most of them.
Thanks,
Carolyn

April....you made me cry twice in this update. First when Kyle yelled at Tess and second when Tess was crying on Michael's shoulder. Wow, so emotional and sad. I want Kyle to snap out of this funk he is in. But Tess and Michael can't make him do it. He has to want it for himself. I LOVE that Michael was the one to get Tess. This whole thing breaks my heart. Well done!!

Sorry for the delayed update. I had forgotten to mention that I would be on vacation. I attended a fan convention states away and got photos and autographs with James Marsters, Ian Somerhalder, Eliza Taylor, Lindsey Morgan, and Zach McGowan. It was a GREAT time! But I'm back now and will get this update out to you guys!

Since it's already late, I'll just make it quick and thank Carolyn and Sara for the feedback!


Oh, but I would like to make sure I suggest a song when you see if you'd like: Love Show by Skye








Part 33








The house felt so quiet, so still, like only ghosts lived there or something. Kyle sat with the TV on, but he couldn’t really watch anything. Couldn’t really do anything. All he could do was sit and wait until Tess walked in. Michael had texted him a little over an hour ago and said they were on their way back, but until he actually saw her come through that door, he’d be holding his breath.

The first thing he did when he heard her come in was to stand up, because the last thing she probably wanted to see was his ass on that damn couch, even though that was where it had been all day.

She carried a couple of big bags that looked like they weighed as much as she did, and she dropped them in the living room. Behind her, Michael set down a few more. Kyle looked at him and nodded appreciatively, silently communicating his thanks, even though he’d thank him for real later. Wordlessly, Michael nodded back, and then he left.

Kyle felt like he had to say something, like he had to say it right away, too, or it’d be too late. “Look, Tess, I’m sorry--”

“Kyle,” she cut him off. “I came back. One step at a time.” She picked up one of her duffle bags, dragged it down the hallway into the bedroom, and shut the door.

One step at a time, Kyle thought, resigned to reconciling over a longer period of time than he’d anticipated. He looked down at his feet, glued in place on that carpet, and for the first time in a long time, he felt . . . determination. Get to steppin’.

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

Maria chewed on the end of her pen, halfheartedly looking through the notes she compiled for Music Appreciation class. With finals only a few weeks away, she’d decided to get an early start on the studying, because she wanted to do well. Mostly she wanted to do better than Michael, but since he was studying with her, that probably wouldn’t happen.

They sat together in ‘the lounge,’ which was the nickname given to the largest study area in the student union. It was supposed to be super quiet, and it usually was. But it was almost too quiet. Maria couldn’t stand it. It almost made it even harder for her to focus.

“So Dylan said the principal made some kind of announcement yesterday,” she said quietly, “about how they won the championship.

Across the table, Michael briefly glanced up from the pages he was reading. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. He thought it was pretty cool.”

“It is cool,” he agreed.

She chewed on her pen cap a little more, until she was thoroughly disgusted with it and had to set it down. “Are you gonna coach them again next year?”

“Hope so,” he said. “But I’ll be done with my practicum so . . . I don’t know.”

Dylan was going to miss him if he didn’t get to see him as much. But . . . then again, maybe in a way that would be a good thing. “Is your practicum just a semester thing?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Just like this class, she thought. Once Christmas break hit, she’d be enrolled in Music Appreciation 2, and Michael would be back in all his psychology classes where he belonged. These little study sessions wouldn’t exist, and the three days a week that she saw him would be reduced to . . . maybe just one. If that. Weird, she thought. Never had she expected that having a class with him would actually start to feel normal.

“So . . .” She cleared her throat, and someone shushed her. Apparently she was being too loud. She didn’t really care, but she kept her voice as quiet as possible and asked, “How’s Tess?”

Finally, he glanced up without looking right back down at the book in his lap again. “What do you mean?”

She gave him a knowing look. Was it really necessary to even answer that question?

“What?” he said. “What is that? What is that look? Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Seriously?” She couldn’t tell if he was playing dumb or if he was just really that clueless about what she was asking. “She’s pregnant, right?”

He sat up straighter, his whole body suddenly on alert. “How’d you know about that?”

“I overheard her throwing up at the mall last week,” she explained. “Plus, as a formerly pregnant woman myself, I can kind of just tell. It’s like a sixth sense.” She actually respected that he hadn’t told her, though. It was good of him to keep Tess’s secret.

“Well, now that Kyle knows, I guess there’s no harm in other people knowing,” he said.

“How far along is she?”

“Not far. Not as far as Tina.”

By Maria’s estimation then, Tess would probably have the baby around the time spring semester ended. She’d have a busy summer ahead of her. “God, I feel like everyone’s getting pregnant,” Maria admitted.

“I know, Sarah and I were saying the same thing. And my friend Steve and his wife Cheryl just had a baby, too.”

“Uh-oh, you better watch out,” she cautioned. “You might be next.”

“I don’t think so,” he said swiftly.

He didn’t? For some reason, that prompted her to ask, “Have you guys ever talked about that kind of thing?”

“What, having kids?”

“Yeah.” Maybe it was none of her business. Maybe she shouldn’t have even asked.

“Briefly, I guess,” he answered. “I mean, obviously we wanna finish college first.”

“Obviously,” she echoed, wishing she’d had that luxury.

Apparently realizing how she could have taken that the wrong way, he apologized, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” If Michael’s life went in the logical order, that would be good for him. Kids after college. That was the way it was supposed to be. “You probably wanna get married first, too, right?” she supposed, not even sure why she was mentioning it.

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed.

When she thought about it, pictured him sliding an engagement ring onto Sarah’s finger the way he’d once slid one onto hers . . . it made her a little reminiscent, and a lot territorial. But clearly that was the direction they were headed, and everyone would be really happy about it. Because they were a good match. A really good one.

“Do you think that’s gonna happen before you graduate?” she asked, just wondering if she’d be getting an invitation in the next year or so. At this point, it didn’t seem unlikely.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We haven’t really . . . thought that far ahead.”

She stared at him skeptically, having a hard time believing that. Maybe he hadn’t, but surely Sarah had. Or maybe he really had thought that far ahead, and he was just lying so she wouldn’t feel bad.

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

All this studying was making Maria’s brain feel like mush. She’d never had the greatest attention span, at least not academically. She’d gone from doing her own homework to helping Dylan with his after school, and even though his was easy for her, it was extremely difficult for him. Subtraction. Since when did kindergarteners do subtraction? She didn’t remember learning it until the second grade.

“So what’s the answer?” she asked, sitting at his little desk with him.

“Um . . . seven,” he guessed.

“Seven?” So far, math was not proving to be his strong point. “Nine.” She heard the front door open, and she wanted to go say hi to Max and see how his day had been, so she told Dylan, “Try the next one.”

He groaned and continued laboring away as she got up and left the room. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would just have a whole page of random numbers written down when she came back.

“Hey, Max,” she said as she headed out into the kitchen, “Did you know Tess is pregnant?” She tried to stop right as she was saying the last word, but it came out. And she wished it hadn’t. Because Max wasn’t alone in that kitchen. His sister was with him. “Isabel,” she said, not sure why the hell she was over there.

Isabel’s whole face registered shock and awe. “Tess is pregnant?” She didn’t even need a verbal response, because in about three seconds, she was out the door. Zoom. Like the speed of light.

“I invited her over for dinner,” Max said, “but apparently now we’re chopped liver.”

Of course we are, Maria thought, selfishly relieved that she and Isabel wouldn’t have to play nice tonight. When it came down to it, Isabel would probably always think of Tess as her best friend, even if Tess no longer felt the same.

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

Perfect timing, Isabel thought as she pulled her car to a stop outside of Tess’s house. She’d been over there a few times the past couple years, just to see if there was any possible way she and Tess could hang out. But much like Max and Michael and everybody else she used to know, Tess had never seemed to have any time for her.

Tess was unloading groceries from her car, looking . . . sort of not all that put-together. T-shirt and jeans. Messy hair. Little makeup. Definitely not the head cheerleader she used to be.

Isabel got out of her car and pranced forward, intercepting Tess on her way to the front door. “Oh my god, congratulations!” she exclaimed.

Tess stared at her warily. “What’re you doing here?”

“I just heard. I wanted to come by and say--”

“Congratulations,” Tess filled in. “Got it.” She tried to step around her, but Isabel moved backward, blocking her progress.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Tess sighed impatiently. “Well, I assume it’s one of them.”

“I bet it’s a girl,” Isabel predicted. “And she’ll be a cheerleader.”

“Well, we’ll see.” Tess didn’t even crack a smile. There was no glint of excitement in her eyes. It was weird.

“You don’t seem very happy,” Isabel remarked, taking the heavy grocery sack out of her hands. “Didn’t you used to daydream about this?”

“Not exactly.”

“No, but I remember--”

“Isabel,” she cut in adamantly. “I don’t wanna talk to you about this. We’re not close anymore. We’re not a part of each other’s lives.”

Isabel whimpered inwardly. God, it sounded so . . . definite. She and Tess had known each other since elementary school, though. Was it so wrong to just be happy for her and want to talk to her about it? Apparently it was, in Tess’s mind at least.

God, that pissed her off.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You’re just best friends with Michael’s girlfriend, whoever that may be at any given time.” There was no real loyalty there. She’d been wrong to assume that there would be.

“You don’t have to mean,” Tess said.

Didn’t she, though? Being nice apparently wouldn’t work. “No,” she said, handing the grocery sack back to Tess. “I do.” She stomped off towards her car again, so upset that her genuine excitement and congratulations had been met with such dismissiveness. At this point, it was probably too late to go back to Max’s and take him up on his dinner offer, too, so that left her with no choice but to go home and see if Jesse wanted to film anything tonight.

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

Maria stood at the kitchen counter the next morning, her right hand on the mouse of her laptop, her left hand on the door to her barren spice cabinet. She was checking to make sure she had all the ingredients to make this spicy lasagna she’d found through a Google search, but so far, it wasn’t looking good.

“Morning,” Max greeted as he shuffled into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she returned without glancing up from the computer screen.

“What’re you doing?” he asked as he stuck two chocolate Pop Tarts in the toaster.

“Just trying to find something to cook tonight.”

He chuckled. “Macaroni and cheese should cut it.”

“No, I gotta make something better than that.” Macaroni and cheese would cut it if it was just her and Dylan and Max she was cooking for, but not if they had company. “I’m gonna invite Michael and Sarah over.”

“What now?”

“It’s fair,” she said, standing up on her tiptoes to see if she had basil in that cabinet. It didn’t seem likely, but it was worth a shot. “She invited us over to their place. Now I’m returning the favor.”

“But you can’t cook,” he pointed out. Since he was taller than her, he reached up, grabbed all the spices, and brought them down for her. Nope. No basil.

“I can fake cook,” she assured him. “Look, I just wanna prove that I am of equal value to this . . . tentative friendship or peace treaty or whatever the hell it is the four of us having going on.” It seemed like Sarah was so good at so many things, and she just wanted to be good at cooking and entertaining guests, too. Just for one night at least.

“Are you okay with it?” she asked, knowing she should have talked to him about it first. But he hadn’t exactly run the idea of inviting Isabel over by her.

“Sure,” he said. “I like Sarah.”

She smiled a little.

“And I have nothing against Michael,” he insisted. “He just doesn’t like me.”

“Well, maybe we could invite Liz, too.” It would be good for Max to have someone else in his corner.

“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll call her.”

“I’ll call Sarah.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and headed back into the bedroom to find her phone.

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

Throat hurting, head aching, Alex stumbled through the door to his apartment, happy to be home. Leanna was there, looking at herself in their bedroom mirror. Her hair was wet and clipped up off her neck, and she was wrapped in a towel.

“Hi, honey,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Alex.” She spun around, smiling shakily. “You’re home early.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling very well, so . . .”

“Oh, you know, I wasn’t, either,” she said. “Actually, I was kinda wondering if you could run to the pharmacy and get me some cough drops.”

Was she really asking him that? Did she not see how crappy he looked? “I’m sure we have some, don’t we?” he said.

“No, I really want this special kind.”

A special kind? Was there even such a thing? “I’m sorry,” he said, tossing his coat onto the bed, “I can’t. I just need to take a shower and take a nap.” He loosened his tie and headed for the bathroom, but she got in front of him and stopped him.

“Oh, um . . .” She looked like she was trying to say something, but no words came out.

“What?” he prompted.

She just stared at him, mouth moving but still uttering nothing. And then . . .

The bathroom door opened. And out stepped a guy. Wet hair and skin just like hers. Towel around his waist.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist . . .

“Oh, hey, Alex,” the guy said, and it was only when he spoke that Alex recognized him as Liz’s ex-boyfriend Sean. Wordlessly, helplessly, he looked at him, and then back at Leanna. But she could no longer look him in the eye.

Son of a bitch.

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

The conversation over dinner had been . . . pleasant. Light-hearted. Well-suited to the indie music Maria had playing lightly in the background. Sarah and Liz had done a lot of the talking, of course They were both so naturally good at these types of things and seemed to have a lot in common. Neither of the guys said much, but that was probably for the best. And occasionally Scarlet did something cute or said something cute that made all the attention go straight to her.

Inevitably, though, they got to that point where they were mostly done eating, and no one knew whether or not to sit there and keep talking or move into the living room and talk there, or maybe just to leave altogether.

“Do you guys want anymore?” Maria asked everyone. She’d made enough to feed a small army.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Sarah said. “I don’t know what to say, Maria. This was so delicious.”

“Thanks.” It’d better be, she thought.

“What’s the recipe?”

“Oh, it’s, um . . .” Hell if she knew. “It’s, uh—it’s . . . it’s a mixture of a whole bunch of things.” She’d scrapped the spicy and lasagna and ended up serving a chicken cordon bleu casserole instead. “Yeah, you kinda just mix everything together in a big casserole dish and cook it. For a while.”

Liz gave her a knowing smile but didn’t say anything.

“Well, I’ll have to have you write it down for me,” Sarah said. “I really wanna make it sometime.”

Next to her, Michael shifted in his seat and mumbled, “She probably got it out of a box.”

“Michael!” Sarah hissed.

“No, he’s—he’s right,” Maria admitted sheepishly. “I did.” There was no point in pretending otherwise. She’d just end up making herself look stupid if she even attempted to write down her ‘recipe’ for this meal.

“Oh, well, it’s still really good,” Sarah said.

“Save room,” Liz told her, “because I brought dessert. Good old-fashioned chocolate cake.”

“Oh god, you might have to roll me out of here,” Sarah warned Michael, holding her stomach with one hand.

He smirked.

Over in her makeshift highchair, Scarlet cooed, “Di-di.”

“Does she want me?” Max asked.

“No, Di-di means Dylan. Da-da means you,” Liz informed him.

“She wants Dylan?” Maria loved that. “That’s so sweet.”

“I know!” Liz agreed.

“Is Dylan gonna be back at all?” Michael piped up.

“Uh, no. Luke’s mom said the movie wasn’t ‘til 6:30,” Maria replied. “So probably not.”

Michael just nodded.

“What’d they go see?” Sarah asked.

“Something about cars that turn into werewolves or something.” She rolled her eyes. It sounded stupid, but it was PG, so whatever.

“Awesome,” Michael breathed. Of course that kind of movie would be his thing.

“You know what? Michael and I just watched this really great movie on Lifetime the other night,” Sarah segued.

“No, we didn’t,” Michael denied quickly. “Lifetime? What is that?”

Maria smiled at him a little.

“I can’t remember what it was called,” Sarah went on, “but it was surprisingly good. There was, like, this guy and—god, I can’t remember the name of it. Do you remember, honey?”

Honey? Maria thought. Had she ever called Michael that?

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Oh, whatever.” She playfully hit his shoulder. “You totally watched.”

“I rested my eyes a lot,” he claimed.

“No, you didn’t. You even wanted to watch it again when they showed it the next night.”

“Because I was resting my eyes the first night.”

Maria gave Max a look, figuring this could go on a while.

Suddenly, Liz’s phone rang—an awful, way-too-shrill ring for any phone of the twenty-first century—and she said, “Sorry, I have to take this,” when she checked who was calling. She got up from the table and once again apologized, “Sorry,” as she headed down the hall towards he bedroom.

“You’re fine,” Maria said. Crap. Without Liz there, though, the conversation would probably lull. Unless she could keep Michael and Sarah bickering about this movie.

Silence settled in, though, just for a few seconds. Thankfully, Max was able to break it, though, when he asked, “So, Sarah, are you cooking a big meal for Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “We haven’t even nailed down our Thanksgiving plans yet, have we?”

Michael shrugged. “Just goin’ to your parents’.”

I wonder if they like him, Maria thought. Probably. Her mom had never liked him, though. And she probably never would.

“But what about your family?” Sarah asked him.

He grunted. “Not much to be thankful about over there.”

“Well, maybe we should go pick them up and then all drive to my parents’ place together. And just celebrate as one big happy family this year.”

One big happy family? Maria thought. That was kind of what Michael had always wanted.

“Whatever you want,” he said. “I don’t care.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, turning her attention to Maria and Max again. “What are you guys gonna do?”

Avoid my mom, she thought. Maybe they could something with his mom. Diane wasn’t so bad. “Oh, you know, we’ll probably just . . . relax and spend time together,” she said.

“Something low-key,” Max agreed.

“Yeah. Who knows? Maybe I can find a boxed Thanksgiving dinner to make.”

“Oh, just stop,” Sarah said. “This was really good. Do you see all these empty plates here?”

Maria forced a smile, but it still all felt . . . inadequate.

“And speaking of really good . . .” Sarah continued on. “This music you have going is incredible. How do you discover all these good songs?”

“Oh, it just helps to have really eclectic tastes,” she replied. There was still a lot of great music out there these days, even though radio stations mostly just played crap.

“Yeah, she listens to . . .” Max trailed off, confessing, “Honestly, I can’t even remember half the stuff you listen to. And I can’t pronounce the other half. It’s different.”

“Give me some song recommendations,” Sarah said. “I need to broaden my musical horizons.”

Finally, something I can be an expert on, she thought. “Well, there’s . . . ‘Angels’ by The XX. Pretty much anything by Athlete. ‘I Can’t Find You’ by SolarSolar.” The list went on and on.

“‘Unchained Melody,’” Michael added.

Her eyes widened. Why the hell would he even mention that?

“Oh, by Leann Rimes?” Sarah said.

Maria got a little laugh out of that. “No, the Righteous Brothers version. It’s . . . my favorite.” She gave Michael a subtle warning look.

“How’s it go again?” Sarah said. “God, I’m having so many brain farts tonight. I can’t even think of it.”

I’ll never forget it, Maria thought. And not only because it was her favorite. “It’s, uh . . . it’s in the movie Ghost,” she said, hoping that would spark the necessary recognition.

“Why can’t I think of it?” Sarah fretted.

Why are we sitting here talking about this song? Maria wondered, a little panicked on the inside. Max and Sarah didn’t know . . . they didn’t know what that song symbolized to her and Michael.

“Sing it, Maria,” Max said.

“What?”

“Sing it.” He got up and went into the living room to turn down the volume on the stereo, so the music that was already playing was practically muted.

“You know, I have been waiting to hear this famous voice of yours,” Sarah said.

“It’s not famous.” Maria felt like her stomach was knotting up. Where the hell was Liz? She needed someone else out there.

“Michael says you’re really good,” Sarah said.

“She is,” Max confirmed as he came back into the kitchen and sat down again. “Come on, sing some of it.”

Oh god. She didn’t want to. But clearly they weren’t going to let up, so she wasn’t left with many options. “Um . . . well, it’s, uh . . . oh, this is really awkward,” she mumbled in a hushed tone. “Um . . .” Maybe it wouldn’t have been so awkward if Michael wasn’t sitting right there at that table. But he was. He was right there.

She just had to do it. Get it done.

When the words came out, she could hear her own anxiety in them.

“Oh, my love
My darling
I’ve hungered for your touch.”

Sarah joined in on the last two words, clearly recognizing it now that she’d had some help. “Yeah!” she exclaimed. “Okay, I totally remember it now.”

Thank God, Maria thought. If she sang too much more, too many memories would come flooding back.

“Wow, you’re really good,” Sarah raved.

“Not really,” she said modestly.

“No, you are. Seriously.” Sarah smiled at her. “You have a beautiful voice.”

Well . . . it was nice to hear that once in a while. “Thank you,” she said.

Turning to Michael again, Sarah asked, “Do you like that song?”

Maria felt her breath catch.

“No,” he said.

( )

For some reason, when he said that, she felt like she was able to exhale in relief.

“Ugh, I swear,” Sarah muttered, “if it’s not sung by the Metallica guy or Kurt Cobain, he has no interest in it.”

Maria laughed a little, but when she caught Michael’s expression out of the corner of her eye . . . she knew that wasn’t necessarily true.

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

After dessert, Max left to go pick Dylan up from Luke’s house. Maria sort of kept expecting that Michael and Sarah would leave, too, but Sarah was obsessed with Scarlet, and that was occupying a lot of time. Not that that was a bad thing. While she and Liz tried to get her to eat some cake without just stuffing her whole face into the center of it, Maria and Michael were able to casually mosey on into the living room. Just to talk.

“Why would you do that?” she finally worked up the nerve to ask him.

“What?” he said innocently. “You mean mention one of the most well-known, popular songs of all time?”

“Yes.”

He smirked and shrugged. “I was just messin’ around.”

“Well, stop. It’s uncomfortable,” she told him.

“For who?”

“Me.”

“Why?” He grinned teasingly.

“You know why.” The memory of making love to him while that song played in the background was going to stick with her for the rest of time. And it would probably always stick with him, too.

“You really do have a beautiful voice,” he told her in a moment of rare sincerity for the night. “Gonna put it to use someday?”

She sighed, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I don’t know, I think the whole singer dream’s kinda run its course. I was starting to think about maybe being a music teacher, though.”

He nodded and said, “You’d be good at that.”

Would she be, though? Sometimes she wondered. Even though she was in college now . . . she’d taken an unconventional path to get here.

He laughed a little and said, “Watch us end up in the same school.”

“No,” she said quickly. “That can’t happen.”

“Why not?”

Because, she thought, suddenly at a loss for words. Just . . . because.

“Michael, come here,” Sarah called out. “You have to hold her.” Scarlet was in her arms now, clinging to her, and looking very sleepy. Sarah was rocking her gently. Of course she seemed to be a natural with kids.

“Watch out,” Liz warned Michael as they slinked past each other, “she squirms.”

“Got it,” he said, sitting down on the other side of Sarah. He didn’t hold Scarlet, but he sure did watch his girlfriend hold her. They probably would have a son or daughter of their own in a couple years. After the both got their bachelor’s degrees, of course. With the careers they had in mind, they’d both end up having to get master’s degrees. They would end up be smart and happy and wealthy. Picture perfect.

“Well, I’d say tonight was a success,” Liz told Maria.

“Yeah, it’s gone alright,” Maria agreed. Maybe the actual food she’d served could have been a little better. If it was homemade.

“You know, Maria, I think it’s really good that you and Sarah are able to get along so well,” Liz said. “Maybe someday Max and Michael can do the same.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that,” Maria said. Michael was way too stubborn to ever give Max another chance. She’d accepted the fact that it would never happen. “So are you gonna stick around for a while?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna have to leave soon,” Liz replied. “Something came up.”

Well, that was cryptic. “You alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Liz assured her. “Alex isn’t, though. That phone call earlier was from him.” She cringed.

“What’s wrong?”

Liz leaned in, lowered her voice to barely above a mumble, and revealed, “His wife cheated on him.”

“What?” Hadn’t they only been married for a couple of months?

“Yeah. With Sean.”

“What?” Maria wasn’t super close to her cousin or anything, but she’d thought highly enough of him to set him up with Liz. This sort of changed her opinion, though. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, that new girlfriend of his? Apparently it’s Leanna.”

“No way.”

“I know, it’s horrible, right?” Liz said. “I mean, how could anyone cheat on Alex? He’s such a good guy.”

When Liz looked away, so did Maria. And her eyes landed right on Michael. She wasn’t sure why, though, so she quickly lowered her head.









TBC . . .

-April

It's nice that the school was celebrating the big win that Michael and Dylan participated in.
Can't believe Maria invited Michael and Sarah over for dinner..........that's quite a collection of people with cross purposes.
Inviting Liz even to be in Max's corner.........
Loved the reference to the box prepared dinner. I've been guilty of that myself. Michael knew Maria and nailed her on that.
Glad you had a good vacation and that now you are back with us,
Carolyn