Hail Mary

by C. C. Galloway

  “I’m listening.”

  “You’ve probably noticed I’m not exactly great boyfriend material.”

  “I’d beg to differ.”

  Her smile spread against his chest as he hugged her tighter. “Of course you would. But before you, I hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost six years.”

  She relaxed against him, silent, waiting. He was thankful for her instinct, recognizing this confession was important and knowing he needed her support more than any commentary.

  “During college, I started dating a girl named Tracey Burns.” Tracey had been blonde, stacked, and interested; an anomaly as far as Michael was concerned. Women generally ignored him, both during high school and later at Wisconsin. Despite his good looks, strong body, and smart mind, his ever-present air of “fuck you and fuck off,” was not attractive to most females, but Tracey had pursued him relentlessly anyway. Whenever he left his classes, she was right outside the building, waiting for him. She asked him out repeatedly until he finally said yes.

  “When we started fucking,” Michael swallowed, “Tracey told me she was on the pill, but I insisted we use rubbers anyway. The winter of our senior year, she showed up at my apartment and told me she was pregnant. I was shocked, fearful, and confused since we’d been careful. I had never considered having kids, but Tracey wanted to keep the baby so we decided to get married.”

  Michael had taken his modest savings he’d earned at his various jobs in high school and college and bought the best diamond he could afford.

  “We agreed to get married quickly and look for a short-term rental we could both move into for the rest of the semester. The baby was due in August and by then, we’d know where I was going to end up and we’d move there.

  “In March, I went to Tracey’s house after I’d finished a workout to tell her it looked like I would most likely be drafted by San Diego or Portland. No one answered the door, so I went to the back where I overheard her talking to her roommate Jenny.

  “I can’t believe he hasn’t figured it out yet,” Jenny stated.

  “He won’t. Michael’s gifts aren’t in his head. We’ll be married next week. I’ll ‘miscarry’ sometime later, and then all I need to do is hold on until he signs his professional contract.”

  “Tracey played me. She was never pregnant, had no intention of ever getting pregnant, and was only with me because I was a hot prospective draft selection.”

  Mary’s body became agitated nestled along his. She partially sat up and looked at him when she spoke. “Michael?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Please.”

  “Tracey sucked.”

  He laughed, drew her down for another kiss, and promptly spent the remaining hours showing her without words how much he adored her.

  Chapter 17

  One Friday morning in mid-November, Calleigh glided in, looking as though she was powered by air, her color high, her eyes sparkling like freshly cut grass. She was wrapped up in a dark red sweater dress and knee-high black boots designed to ward off the November chill permeating Walker’s thin walls. She was practically bouncing, her happiness a sheer cloud all around her.

  “I have to talk to you,” she dramatically stated as she arrived at Mary’s desk.

  “Good talk, bad talk, or simply talk?” Mary inquired, intrigued by whatever was on her mind.

  “Good talk. Fantastic talk. Best talk of my entire life,” Calleigh responded, sipping on her morning latte, smiling as wide as the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “Does happy hour at Por Que No after class today work?” Mary asked. Earlier that morning, Mary had realized she could not cave to her inner desire to remain with Michael all day, but she planned to spend the night with him. They were rendezvousing at her apartment tonight, but not until seven, which would allow her and Calleigh plenty of time to down some drinks and chat about what was responsible for the spring in Calleigh’s step. Or the who, as Mary suspected.

  “Uhhh, sorry, after school won’t work,” Calleigh apologized.

  “How about tomorrow? Breakfast? Lunch?”

  “Lunch sounds good,” Mary said, beginning to tidy up her desk as she and Calleigh settled on Besaw’s at noon.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The Northwest 23rd eatery on the corner of Savier and Twenty-Third Avenue was bustling when Mary and Calleigh strolled in the following day. Every bar stool was occupied, every table full to capacity. Luckily, since they were a simple two-top, they only had to wait ten minutes before being seated.

  “What’s up?” Mary prompted. Calleigh looked as happy as Mary had ever seen her. Happier, in fact, her joy a tangible pull that was drawing looks from all of the restaurant’s patrons.

  “Oh my gosh. I don’t know where to start,” Calleigh gushed.

  “The beginning’s usually a good a place as any. But before we reach the details, can you give me one minor hint as to what or who this is about?”

  Calleigh smiled at her, but remained silent.

  “You going to make me guess?” Mary teased, sharing her happiness.

  “You can guess if you want to,” Calleigh responded, her eyes laughing at Mary.

  “Well, it can’t have anything to do with Lauren because she generally drives you crazy.”

  “Nope. Not Mamacita.”

  “As much as you enjoy your job and your students, I’d know if there was anything to do with their latest test results. And even then, I’m not sure you would have called a special weekend lunch-time session to discuss.”

  “Nope. Not about my classes. Not about my students.”

  “That leaves men. You got a new man in your life I don’t know about?”

  “Oh, you know about him.”

  Mary looked at her, blinking her eyes as she began to suspect exactly who this was all about. Hoping against hope she was wrong.

  “Please tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with David Shalvington.”

  Calleigh’s face fell.

  “Why would you say something like that?” Calleigh asked, her eyes full of hurt, her throat swallowing as if she were struggling against emotions wedged there.

  “Calleigh,” Mary reached across the table to grab her hand. She felt her friend’s slight tug as if she intended to pull it away. Mary squeezed her hand trying to reassure her. “So, this is all about him,” Mary commented, softening her tone.

  “Maybe.”

  “Calleigh. Don’t hide from me.”

  “Well, now I don’t want to tell you anything because you’re clearly biased against him.”

  “Of course I’m not his biggest fan, Calleigh. Last I remember, he hurt you. A lot. For no apparent reason.”

  “Yeah, except back then you tried to defend him and thought there had to be some explanation for his behavior.”

  “Is there?”

  “Is there what?”

  “Is there an explanation for how he hurt you when you asked him out?” Mary challenged. “How rude he was to you?”

  Calleigh expelled a long sigh then forcibly extracted her hand from Mary’s grip and crossed her arms across her chest. “Never mind. I should have known this was a bad idea.”

  Mary’s lips slowly separated. “Calleigh, that’s not fair.”

  “You’re not being fair.”

  Mary took a deep breath and tried to steer this conversation back on course.

  “Let’s start over, ok,” Mary tried, attempting to placate Calleigh and reach the root of the discussion.

  “Will you promise to withhold your judgment?” Calleigh asked.

  “I’ll do my best. I’m Irish so it’s not the easiest feat for me to accomplish, but for you my dear, I’ll work on it,” Mary promised with a wink.

  The sandwiches they’d ordered arrived and they both tucked into their respective orders with gusto. After a few bites, Mary said, “Hit me.”

  Calleigh looked up as though she was contemplating where and how to start.

  “Earlier this w
eek, after one of our soccer games, I decided to meet up with everyone afterwards. I arrived late and realized David was also there. It was one of the smaller groups I’ve been to--I think there were only eight of us there in total.” Calleigh paused to wash her bites of ham and cheese down with some water before resuming. “I ignored him all during dinner because you know, at that point, I was completely convinced he was a grade A asshole.”

  “And he’s not?” Mary raised her right eyebrow, not completely successful at restraining her skepticism.

  “No, he is not an asshole. At least he hasn’t been with me. But we’re jumping ahead. Let me finish. After dinner, I left the restaurant and began walking home when I heard him call my name. I was like, yeah, whatever, and kept walking. He eventually caught up to me, we argued a little bit back and forth, and then he kissed me!” Calleigh had raised her voice at the end, prompting their surrounding patrons to glance at the table and smile to themselves.

  Mary’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”

  “Okay, nothing more happened after the kiss. At least, not that night.”

  “And the kiss was….”

  “The kiss was spectacular. Outstanding. Incredible. Deep and lush, just this side of rough. It was, in fact, perfect. So perfect, in fact, I was pissed when he left me standing there in the middle of street, ready to go and with no one to go there with.”

  “It sounds like quite a kiss,” Mary allowed.

  “Yes it was. Okay, he then asked me over to his house for dinner, a surprisingly nice house, a little bungalow on the east side, by the way. Dinner was great. When we were about to continue what we’d started on the sidewalk, we got into a minor fight.”

  “About what?”

  “Nothing,” she murmured, averting her eyes and taking a long drink of her water before continuing. “It’s not important. I returned home again and thought okay, clearly we were never meant to be. The next night he shows up at my house.”

  Calleigh paused as if waiting for her to respond in some way, but Mary kept her gaze direct, wanting to give her friend a chance to convince her this guy was worth Calleigh’s time.

  “And it couldn’t have been a worse time. Unless I’d been ragging it. That would have been worse. I’d come directly home from a soccer game and hadn’t jumped into the shower. Anyway, he’s there with this paper bag. And in it, he brought ice cream.”

  “I guess he doesn’t realize how much you deprive yourself of sugar, does he?” Mary commented.

  As Calleigh filled in the rest of the details, skimming over the more personal ones, Mary contemplated her. “You know,” Mary began, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever witnessed you eat something without first commenting on its caloric and fat content. It suits you. It’s good. It’s normal.”

  “Alright, so, the sex is fabulous, but what is David like?” Mary asked, wanting to know about the man who was alternatingly responsible for tying her best friend up in knots and making her happier than Mary had ever known her. Any man that could get Calliegh to eat was alright in Mary’s book.

  “He’s…. smart. And a good cook. He made this amazing shrimp dish the night I went to his house for dinner.”

  “Based on the way you described him, I wouldn’t have taken him for a cook,” Mary replied.

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have taken him for a lot of things,” Calleigh remarked, looking down at her plate with nary a breadcrumb in sight.

  Mary tilted her head to the side and studied her. “What does that mean, Calleigh?”

  Calleigh’s flush was fast and furious, spreading up from her chest to bloom all across her throat and neck.

  “Er, nothing,” she quickly responded, draining her entire full glass of water in one single guzzle.

  Maybe her friend shouldn’t have forsaken the glass of wine the waitress had tried to push on both of them when they’d first sat down.

  “Calleigh. Talk to me.”

  In halting terms, quiet tones, and averted eyes, Calleigh told her what being in bed with David was like.

  “So?” Calleigh asked after she’d finished.

  “So, what?” Mary internally chuckled at her best friend. “David’s into some things you haven’t tried before. If the look on your face yesterday and today is any indication, I’d say whatever you two are doing is working fine for you. Am I wrong?”

  “No, but it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

  Mary shook her head. Despite Calleigh’s legion of boyfriends and dating experience, she was still unsure of herself, her needs, her wants, her desires, and sought reassurance. That combination in her friend always amazed Mary.

  “Calleigh, David hasn’t done anything you haven’t wanted, right?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re a consenting adult, right?”

  “Last time I checked my driver’s license, yes.”

  “What’s the problem? Honestly, a lot of people are into alternative avenues in sexuality. If you’re enjoying it and on board, who cares?”

  Calleigh shrugged her shoulders. “But what does it say about me as a woman if I let him dominate me the way he does?”

  “It doesn’t say anything other than the fact it excites both of you,” Mary reassured her. “It doesn’t mean you’re not smart, you’re not strong, or you’re not independent. You’re all those things. And besides? The way people behave in the bedroom has no impact on how they conduct the rest of their lives.”

  “Really?” Calleigh’s hope was in her eyes.

  Then Mary clearly understand her friend needed this. Needed to hear from another person who cared for her and respected her that she wasn’t a freak, wasn’t weak, and what she was doing with David was alright.

  “Really. I mean, whatever goes on between you and David is between you and David. No one else. It’s no one else’s business. Besides,” Mary wiggled her eyebrows, “I think it sounds kind of sexy.”

  “You do?”

  Mary nodded her head. “I do. I’ve never had BDSM fantasies, but there’s something exciting about the idea of giving up control to your man and letting him control the action, where all you have to do is respond.”

  “I take it Michael hasn’t asked to tie you up then?” Calleigh teased.

  A gentle ease settled around the table. Mary knew they both were grateful the conversation, despite its rocky beginning, had turned out the way it had. They’d been friends for years. Each of them depended on the other’s acceptance and reassurance as the balm for the worries that would plague them through relationships and life.

  Mary felt the tension in her own face for a moment at the question concerning Michael. She paused before she responded. “Uh, no. No, he hasn’t. If he wanted to, I’d do it.”

  “By the way, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “David works for the Tide. He’s their general manager.”

  “That’s right. I think you mentioned that before. Michael’s never mentioned him but he doesn’t talk about management or anything that doesn’t involve his teammates or his coaches.”

  “Things are going well for the two of you then? When am I going to have the opportunity to spend more than five minutes with him outside the presence of teenagers?” Calleigh asked.

  “In answer to your first question, yes, things are going well. He’s….terrific, in fact, and I think we’re a good team. In response to your second question, I’m not sure. He’s busy right now since they’re gearing up to hopefully make it to the playoffs. The time we spend together, he’s usually tired. And I kind of like having him to myself right now, if you want to know the truth.”

  Calleigh had been nodding her head as Mary spoke. “Oh yeah. I feel the same way about David. As though you don’t want to share your time with him at all. Maybe in awhile after things settle down for everyone and our hormones, we can get our respective men together off the field.”

  “It’s a date.”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Michael had not been exaggerating when he referr
ed to Leslie Murray’s house as “serious.” As in “serious cash.” Or maybe “serious size.” Or perhaps, “seriously beautiful.” It was all those and then some.

  “Welcome, welcome,” the linebacker greeted the two of them when they rolled up his long and lushly lined driveway before moving to envelop Mary’s hands in one of his. Michael immediately frowned at him and tugged Mary to his side once they were through the doorway and in the foyer.

  “I’m sure you hear this all the time, but your home is spectacular,” Mary complimented Murray as she and Michael followed him through the house and into the most incredible, gourmet kitchen she’d ever seen outside the pages of glossy magazines. It was all modern comfort, done in a beautifully masculine way. The warm, sunny kitchen was huge, so huge that Mary was convinced her entire apartment could fit inside it. Maybe Michael’s condo could too.

  “I may have heard that a time or two, but it’s kind of like hearing how handsome I am. I never tire of hearing it,” Murray stated, winking at her and moving to his refrigerator.

  “Your drink selections tonight include a chilled 2007 California Chardonnay, a 2005 Pinot Noir from one of the wineries in McMinnville, Stella Artois or Widmer Hefeweizen if your tastes run to beer. I also have scotch, whiskey, rum, vodka, tequila and more mixers than you’ve ever seen outside a professional bar. What will it be?” Murray asked them both, ever the gracious host. “And Santiago, so help me God, if you select frickin’ ice water instead of any of my esteemed offerings, this is going to be the last time I ever invite you over.”

  “I won’t speak for Michael, but I’d love a Stella please,” Mary stated, continuing to appreciate the luxurious kitchen all around her.

  “One Stella for the lady, coming right up. Santiago, you made a choice yet or am I going to have to beat your ass tomorrow on the field?” Murray opened up the side refrigerator to withdraw a freshly chilled Stella glass and began pouring, the frozen glass causing the beer to chill and froth up at the top of the glass.

  “I’ll have what Mary’s having, I guess,” Michael agreed, moving to stand next to her at Murray’s granite kitchen island.