Her words, accompanied by those of DiPalma, echoed through his head in a continuous loop. A recording he couldn’t turn off and couldn’t run away from, literally and figuratively. A day hadn’t passed without him reaching for the phone, or at least contemplating it, calling her up, checking in on her. Telling her about his accident and confessing how much her absence gutted him. In the end, it turned out he’d wussed out and was too much of a pussy to contact her.
As much as it killed him to admit it, a part of his ego expected to hear from her first. What would he do then? Beg her to take him back? Confess his feelings?
“You know, I don’t pick your ass up and bring you here every day so that you can stare into space. Either start lifting or I’m going to tell Johnson where you live. You know he’ll be terrorizing you come off-season, stealing your game tapes, rifling through your notebooks.” Murray ambled in, settling in on the bench press across from where Michael considered the state of his life.
He pulled down the trapezoid bar while his triceps flared to life before responding.
Coughing, he said, “Thanks. It means a lot. I know it’s a pain in the ass to pick me up and bring me in every day.”
“Shut it, Santiago. I’m not looking for your gratitude, I’m looking for your fucking sweat. Every day you can’t work your one leg is a day that you have to work all your other muscles that much harder. I know you know this. What I don’t know is why when I come in here, I find you looking like a tub of butter. I’m not doing this for my health.”
Michael contemplated confiding in Murray. Sharing the details of his daily life with Mary liberated him in ways he’d never imagined, opening him up in an unexpected way. But what the fuck could he say to his defensive captain?
I’m an asshole and I lost my girlfriend.
I don’t know what I’ll do with my life outside of football if I can’t return, in part because I lost my girlfriend.
I miss my girlfriend so much, it physically fucking hurts. My chest is always tight and my thoughts are always scattered and upset.
My one refuge is now lost to me, until next season, which seems as far away as anything.
Instead, he went with: “I’ve got some things pressing on my mind.”
“Like your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Michael answered, far too quickly.
“Ahhhh, I wondered why she wasn’t around.” A few more beats of silence while they both completed their lifts, not meeting each other’s eyes in the age-old way of macho men, entirely uncomfortable with discussing anything that remotely resembled that word. Feelings.
“Look, you miss her, tell her. You want her back, tell her.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, Santiago, sometimes it is. Love is one of those times.”
~ * ~ * ~
Her number, scribbled in his chicken-scratch, challenged him on the white piece of Tide letterhead. Accustomed to finding anything and everything any Tide player could ever possibly think to request, the public relations department tracked her down with an ease and swiftness that should have alarmed him.
Now he sat in his condo trying to decide what to do with it.
To hell with it. There was a spectacular chance she wouldn’t even allow him to introduce himself before hanging up. Or she’d listen and hang up on him. Likely, after telling him to fuck off.
Dialing her number, he let it ring.
One. Two. Three.
“Hello?”
“Is this Calleigh Stuart?” he asked.
A slight hesitation on the other end.
“Yes. Who’s this?” Suspicion iced every word.
“Michael Santiago. I’m a friend of Mary’s,” he answered. “We met at College Career Day.”
“I know who you are. Why are you calling me and what do you want?”
Michael licked his lips and thought this might be the second most important conversation in his life. Second only to the one he hoped to secure after this phone call.
“I need to talk to Mary. I messed things up between us, badly, a couple weeks ago.”
“I know you have her phone number and it hasn’t changed. Why don’t you call her? You do know how to operate a phone, right?” Sarcasm replaced the frost.
“The things I need to say, the first time I speak to her after what happened last time, I need to do in person,” he pleaded.
“So call her and set up a time to meet. It’s a free country.”
“Look, I need to do this in person. I don’t want to do this at school because it’s inappropriate and I would never blindside her that way at her work. And if I go to her apartment, I’m not sure she’d let me in.”
An irritated sigh crawled through the line, irritating his already frayed nerves. “I’m not her scheduler or keeper, Michael. I’m not sure what, exactly, you’re hoping to accomplish with this phone call to me. Are you trying to get me to maneuver her somewhere that you can magically appear at? Only to do what? What are your intentions?”
“I can assure you my intentions are entirely honorable. All I’m asking for is a heads-up if Mary’s planning on being anywhere that you know of in the next couple of days. That’s all. I promise I won’t do anything that would make you regret helping me.”
Calleigh’s silence lasted no longer than probably ten seconds. The ten longest seconds of Michael’s life. He lacked confidence in Plan B, but he could execute it if he had to. He hoped it didn’t come down to that.
“She’ll be at the Governor Hotel Saturday for Operation Rudolph. There will be signs directing you to it when you enter on the Tenth Street side.”
“Thank you.” His heart immediately lightened at her assistance. Buoyed, he would have jumped in place if he could have.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t. I promise, Calleigh. I owe you. If there’s ever anything you need, you’ve got my number.”
~ * ~ * ~
The Governor Hotel’s second floor library ballroom on Southwest Tenth and Alder was decked out in all the best holiday decorations the season offered for gatherings. Four individually themed Christmas trees anchored each corner of the room, glittering with multi-colored lights, alive with shiny bows, twinkly garland, homemade and fancy ornaments, candy canes, and angels. Operation Rudolph was in full effect, with the kids and their families milling around, sipping hot chocolate, chowing down on donuts, cookies, and other treats, waiting for their turn with Santa as well as a few of the city’s stars, including a couple of Tide players and several Trail Blazers.
Mary was thankful none of the Tide players were among those she’d met that fateful evening at Murray’s house. An evening that seemed like an eternity away, but was really only a matter of weeks. She was dying to walk up and ask for an update, but where, exactly, would that lead? “Hi. You don’t know me, but I used to love your teammate, Michael Santiago. And I know the news says he has some problem with his leg and is out for the rest of the season. Is it true? What can you tell me? Does he miss me? Has he asked about me?” Yeah, that conversation would go over real well and result in a visit from a cop asking about stalking. Since the game, she had picked up her cell phone at least once a day, wanting to call him, hear his voice and ask him if he needed anything. Her sense of self-preservation was too strong and strangled any urge to communicate with Michael.
Rat bastard.
“Mary, Mary. You’re looking quite contrary. What’s wrong?” Calleigh glided up with a saucer of eggnog, David in tow slightly behind her.
“Nothing,” Mary responded, sipping the creamy concoction, surveying the room. The festive cheer was at odds with her melancholy, but she did not want to focus on it. Rather, she wanted to focus on her friends around her, the kids who were receiving presents they otherwise wouldn’t, and the fact the holiday season was her favorite time of year. The snowflakes, the street decorations, the store front displays, the holiday parties, the good cheer. Mary had put up her miniature Christmas tree in the living
room earlier in the week, but even that failed to lift her spirits, then or now.
“What do you want to do after this?” Calleigh asked. “We were talking about heading down to the Heathman for a few drinks, then over to Higgins for dinner?”
“I was hoping Mary would have dinner with me,” a deep, dark voice stated from behind her.
The trio turned collectively to stare at the source. Michael was there, in front of them, in a dark navy suit that couldn’t quite hide the walking cast on his right leg. Mary’s heart leaped at the sight of him, but her Midwestern manners asserted themselves before she could embarrass herself and tackle him. Not to mention her brain reminded her of their last conversation.
“Michael. What are you doing here?” she asked, eating him up with her eyes, noting that he looked as though his nights were as restful as hers had been. Which was to say, not at all.
“I heard you’d be here.”
Unable to formulate any type of response, she went with introductions.
“Michael Santiago, you may remember Calleigh Stuart. I understand you know David.” As they exchanged handshakes, Michael didn’t take his eyes off her.
David took Calleigh’s hand in his. “We’re going to go check in with Santa.” They left the two of them alone together in a room full of people.
~ * ~ * ~
Now that he was here, standing in front of her, all of his rehearsed words deserted him, leaving his stomach barren except for his nerves which were threatening to overtake his brain, right along with his mouth.
“What happened to your leg?” Mary asked, relieving him of the responsibility for the conversation that he’d explicitly come here to have. Thank god, she was talking. If he could keep her talking, then maybe he could finally get around to the reason they were both standing in the middle of the Governor Hotel.
“I, ah, had a bad fall during a game and ended up with a fracture.”
“How long is the cast on for?” she asked, frowning at the way in which the cast dominated his leg.
“Probably another two weeks. It depends on my progress.” She looked tired, as though she had been sleeping as well as he had. Michael cleared his throat, then tried his opening again. “So, I came here because I knew you would be here,” he repeated, still not knowing where to start, only knowing how and where he wanted this to end.
“I come every year with Calleigh. Her mother is one of the original founding members of Operation Rudolph. I come as support.”
Michael smiled. “I know. I actually called Calleigh.” Michael continued, his voice slightly trembling. “I fucked up, Mary. That night. With you. What I said at the time, about marriage, kids, and me, I believed. I can’t tell you that I’ve changed, because I haven’t. And I’ll never lie to you. I’m a terrible prospect for any woman who wants those things, like you. I didn’t think I wanted those things. But after I was injured, I had some time to think about things, things like my future and my life.” He waited for some type of reaction. He needed some indication she wanted this as much as he did before he would complete the statement he had come there to make.
~ * ~ * ~
“And?” she asked, her green eyes softening and glowing as she listened to him. She remained quiet, hoping and praying the rapid calisthenics happening in her stomach wouldn’t make her say or do something she normally wouldn’t. Like, throw herself at him. Tell him how much she’d missed him. How often he’d stalked her thoughts since that Saturday night that now seemed so long ago.
Mary tilted her head to the side, not wanting to be excited, flushed with his nearness, happy he was here. Afraid to hope. Petrified his presence didn’t indicate anything she was looking for. Equally scared it represented everything she’d ever dreamed about.
“And I decided that I want you. Forever. You know all the shitty things about me, about my past and about my family and Tracey, and if you’re still willing to risk it, I am too. I’m a big chance, but that’s never stopped you from taking a risk before.”
Now her heart was lodged somewhere up around the vicinity of her throat.
“What exactly are you saying, Michael?”
“I’m saying if you’ll have me, I want it. I want it all and I want it with you. Marriage, kids, the whole shebang. I can’t promise you I know anything about marriage or family. But I love you and I know no one could love you more. And you won’t need to worry about money. I’ve saved a lot of what I’ve earned since I started playing ball. So, I can take care of you and any kids we have financially.” Michael’s heart was in his eyes.
Mary took it and grabbed on it with all of her might.
“If this is a proposal, the answer is yes,” she whispered, moving up to him, throwing her arms around his waist and leaning in for a deep kiss.
“Yes.” Michael wrapped his arms around his woman and settled in for a long, thorough kiss.
~ * ~ * ~
Lying in his bed that evening, twilight shone through the windows, bathing the room in a soft light, perfect for their soft feelings. They lay on their sides, heads each on their own respective pillows, their hands holding one another over the sheet that covered Mary to her chest and dipped at his naval. He could be content to stare at her for the rest of his life, Michael thought. He’d have to settle for looking into her eyes every morning for the rest of his life.
“So, does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked, stroking her arm, never breaking eye contact.
She laughed. God, he loved the sound of her laugh. Throaty and slightly husky, it never failed to please him. Hopefully, he’d make her laugh every day for the rest of their lives. He’d never had the opportunity to develop any sense of humor, but he thought Mary might be able to help him out with that. She was the one and only woman he could banter with, in bed and out of it, and he loved it.
“If the last fifty minutes didn’t shout ‘you’re forgiven’, I’m not sure there’s any hope for you,” she teased, while their feet played footsie under the covers.
“I just want to be clear. I wouldn’t want there to be any perceived lack of communication in our relationship,” he said, pulling her middle into contact with his, enjoying the friction of the sheets. After reconciling, they hadn’t bothered with trying to locate Calleigh and David, but instead hopped in the town car that waited for Michael while he’d been inside the hotel and told the driver to step on it, all the way to his condo. They’d gone from zero to naked in about five seconds flat.
Maybe less.
He’d told her to leave on her heels, a request Mary happily complied with.
“I missed you, Michael. I missed you a lot,” she solemnly declared.
In response, he brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “I missed you too.”
“Although, this has set a pretty high bar for make-up sex, you know.”
He smiled. “I should hope so. If this is how every fight ends, it’s worth it.”
“You should have called me when you were injured.”
“And say what? Hi, Mary, I know we’re no longer dating, but I kind of got hurt today during the game. Can you pick me up? Come on. Lame. I might be a jerk, but even I’m not that much of a prick.”
“I wanted to call you, but I just didn’t know what to say,” Mary confessed.
He continued to stroke her back. Touching her now seemed as natural as breathing. “You wouldn’t have had to say anything. Honestly, the shape I was in, I would have just been so fucking happy to hear your voice on the other end, that I would have done all the talking.”
“Ha! You doing all the talking. That’s not exactly a realistic scenario, Michael,” she stated, reminding him that women needed words. Mary, in particular, needed to hear the words he’d always thought himself wholly incapable of uttering. Maybe that’s what true love did--it acted as a trajectory into the darkest recesses of your soul, opened it wide, and let all of the past hurts and disappointments remind you that being loved for yourself was a gift beyond comprehension or recognition. Empowering you to be
everything you needed to be for your mate. In this case, that meant verbalizing his feelings.
Holding her hand, rubbing the finger where he intended to put his ring, he looked into her eyes. “I love you, Mary. I never thought it would happen, but I do. I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m planning on spending the rest of my life making you happy.”
“I love you too. And you don’t need to do anything more than be who you are. That’s all I want. We’re together now and that’s all that matters. Stop it with this deserving crap,” she admonished, her eyes grave. “Everyone deserves to be loved, especially you.”
Michael rolled her over, intent on being together and loving her forever.
This was his woman.
This was right.
Epilogue
Six months later
The beginning of June dawned pure and bright, the sun shining through pristine, cloudless skies. The April showers had kept their promise and brought May flowers in every hue anyone could possibly conceive of--purple, fuschia, red, orange, yellow, blue, amethyst--dotted the city’s gardens. Mary had contributed vibrant tulips in shades of purple and yellow to Michael’s modest back yard around his porch. After planting them Easter weekend, she’d remarked to Michael that they reminded her of the Easter eggs she’d dyed as a kid. He’d laughed and told her they looked great. She was fairly certain that if she hadn’t mentioned them, he wouldn’t have noticed, although he did take a distinctive interest in pretty much everything she did, in the condo, at work, or with her friends.
“So, we’re about five weeks out from training camp,” he stated.
Mary turned around and smiled at Michael as he joined her on the porch.
“How do you feel about that?” she asked.
Showing he hadn’t lost all ability at deflection, he said, “You should make some plans while I’m gone.”
Hail Mary Page 21