I glanced over at the corner and no longer saw her group. “Are your friends still here?” She looked over and then started scanning the whole bar.
“I don’t see them.” She pulled out her phone and proceeded to make a call. No one answered so she tried sending a text. She was a little more uncoordinated than I’d originally noticed, swaying slightly as she focused on her phone.
Ashland looked at me and grinned. “I think they left me.”
“Those soccer fans can be such hooligans.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed when her phone lit up with a text. “Okay, they just went down the street to a different bar,” she explained. “How about you come with me?” She grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards the door.
I couldn’t deny I was enjoying her attention, but I thought of Father Sean’s parting words and the fact that I would see her every Wednesday for the next few weeks regardless of how the night ended. If this had been a few months ago, I probably would’ve made an entirely different decision.
“Tell you what, I will walk you there, but I’m going to head home after that.”
I walked her out of the crowded bar.
“No,” she stated disappointedly. “You should come. It’ll be so much more fun if you’re there.”
She wrapped both of her hands around mine.
“It’s just two doors down.” She led me that direction. I think she thought that my following meant I was conceding to her request rather than just ensuring she got there safely. When we arrived, I stopped following her and let go of her hand.
“Well, have a good rest of the night, Ashland.”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “Come on, it’s way too early to go home.”
“Maybe for Sounders fans, but us baseball pussies like to turn in early.”
She didn’t seem to appreciate my humor and put her lips in a pout. When it was clear that I wasn’t going to be swayed, she switched her tactic from childish pout to sexy seduction, sliding her eyes up and down my body in an unmistakable come-on. She stepped in close, placing her hands on my chest.
“Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?”
I took a deep breath and let it out, almost about to waver. “You should probably get in there before your friends ditch you again,” I reminded her.
She continued to press herself against me. “I’m not going in until you kiss me,” she declared.
I raised my brow at her, feeling like she had backed me into a corner. I considered my options. One, push her away and potentially insult her. Two, wait her out and continue to stand there awkwardly with a drunk girl pressed up against me outside of a bar. Three, kiss her and get her to go inside the bar.
I took too long to decide, because before I knew it, Ashland’s lips were on mine. I tried to hold back, but well, she was hot. I slipped my tongue in her mouth. She broke away.
“Good night, Thomas.”
She gave me a small smile and walked away, no longer extending the invitation for me to join her.
I was thankful she didn’t ask me again, because I knew I was weak and would’ve given in to just about anything after that kiss. I willed myself to begin the walk back to my truck. I checked my phone to distract myself. There was a response from Maura sent over three hours earlier.
Sexy prizes are my specialty.
Well that caught me off guard. After giving it some thought, I started to doubt whether Maura had actually sent it. There was no way she had it in her to type something like that, especially to someone like me...when she had a boyfriend like Ethan. I had to be reading too much into it. She probably meant for it to be sarcastic. I had successfully distracted myself from Ashland but I was now thinking about Maura...and not in a way I should’ve been thinking about her.
Driving home, I tried to keep my mind off both women by thinking about baseball. It was futile. My brain kept returning to Ashland’s kiss…her navel ring…her ass in those jeans. Why didn’t the moral victory of not taking advantage of her feel more fulfilling?
MAURA
After how we ended things on Wednesday, I remained frustrated with Ethan for the rest of the week. Had he been right to tell me no? I had started to question my morality, which was a first. I didn’t want to see him for Adoration that Friday, but not going would just be another strike against me in his eyes. I sought solace in the fact that Adoration didn’t require any talking. I wasn’t so irritated that I couldn’t sit next to him and pray in silence for an hour or two. Who knew? Maybe praying would make me less upset about the whole situation.
It didn’t.
“You want to go grab some ice cream or something?” Ethan asked as we walked to his car afterwards.
“I’m not really hungry.”
It was the truth. Guilt was the best appetite suppressant. We drove back to my apartment in silence. Once we parked, the silence continued.
“So, are we going to talk about Wednesday?” he started the conversation. “I feel like you’re mad at me, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”
This was a bold way to start off reconciling with a girlfriend. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to agree with him, but I didn’t think I could stand my ground arguing that I was justified in being mad at him.
“Maura, I love you. What I said from the beginning about not wanting to make any mistakes is true. I’m not going to put myself in a situation where I’m tempted to act unchaste. I figured most women would appreciate that respect.”
I didn’t respond.
“Do you not?”
“No,” I sighed, “I mean, yes, I do appreciate it, but…” I stopped, not knowing what else to say. Telling him it was important for me to fall asleep next to him before we were married seemed trivial now.
“I just don’t think you understand how hard it is for a guy to hold back in certain situations. And I’ve never dated anyone who’s asked me to compromise like you did on Wednesday night.”
“I’m sorry,” I said reflexively, but I wasn’t sure if I was or even should be sorry.
“It’s fine, I believe you had pure intentions,” he assured me. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page before we move forward.”
He looked at me expectantly. I found myself nodding. I mean, I had never had anyone take a stand to protect my chastity before. Wasn’t I supposed to want that?
“So, no more requests for sleepovers?” he verified.
I nodded again.
He took my hand. “You know, if you weren’t so beautiful, none of this would be a problem.”
I gave him a small smile.
“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asked.
“I told my mom I would spend the weekend with her.” I was relieved we would have a little bit of a break, a chance to reset from this whole experience.
“You know, I would love to spend more time getting to know your parents,” he cajoled, fishing for an invite.
“You’ve met my parents.”
“Just at Mass. That doesn’t give me much opportunity to gather embarrassing stories about you as a child,” he reasoned.
“Well, my dad is on a fishing trip this weekend, so it’s strictly a mother-daughter day,” I explained. “You can come to dinner with us in a couple weeks for my birthday,” I offered.
“That’s right, your birthday is coming up,” he reflected. “Have you thought about what you want?”
“No, not really.” I never expected anything from anyone beyond wishing me a happy birthday.
“Hmmm, interesting.” He sounded like he doubted me. “Good thing I’ve already gotten your present,” he said enticingly.
“Well, are you going to give me any clues?” I was not above ruthlessly trying to guess surprises before they were revealed.
“Um,” he pretended to think, “no.”
“Com
e on, you can’t tell me you have it two weeks ahead of time and then not offer any clues.” This was sound logic to me.
“Why yes, I believe I can,” he countered playfully.
If it had been a week ago, I would have kissed him. But now I worried he would judge me for using physical affection to persuade him. I resorted to staring him down.
“Let’s just say you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” he offered vaguely, leaning in to kiss me goodnight. I was relieved that the kiss wasn’t as reserved as when we’d first started dating. I felt my shoulders relax for the first time all night and had a genuine smile on my face when he broke away.
***
Despite having to answer a barrage of questions about Ethan from my mother – the most annoying being whether I thought he was “the one” – I was genuinely happy to spend my Saturday with her. It had been a while since we’d had a full day to ourselves. We filled it with shopping and getting pedicures. After feeling like a subpar girlfriend and Christian for the last few days, it was nice to be around somebody who loved me unconditionally.
My mom absolutely hated it when my dad spent the night away, so it was no surprise when she suggested that I spend the night at home. Normally, I would’ve argued that that was silly because I was a grown-up now, but I knew I needed mothering just as much as she needed the company.
“I bought your favorite ice cream and already put some sparkling wine in the refrigerator,” she exclaimed once we got back to the house. As always, she had been expecting me.
“What should we watch tonight?”
I shrugged, not feeling particularly picky because no matter what we watched, I’d be eating ice cream.
“Oh, I know! Daddy got me Seven Brides for Seven Brothers for our anniversary and I haven’t been able to watch it yet.”
This was what I got for letting her pick. It was unfair to complain now. Don’t get me wrong, I like musicals, I just was not a fan of that one in particular. It must have been that it was basically an ad in favor of Stockholm syndrome. Who cares if a man kidnaps you? As long as he puts a ring on it, everything’s peachy.
“Sounds good,” I smiled for her benefit.
We settled in on the couch with our ice cream and sparkling wine. I tried to estimate how long it would take before we both fell asleep. I checked the time on my phone and saw a text from Thomas.
It was odd that he would text me on a Saturday night, especially since I had consistently been turning down his offers to hang out. He had sent a picture of his seats at the Mariners game with a message gloating about how close to home plate he was. I sent him a sarcastic response about Seven Brides for Seven Brothers being equally awesome.
“Who’s that? Is it Ethan?” my mother asked excitedly.
“Uh, no, it’s just Thomas.” I put my phone back down. I should have lied and said it was Sydney.
“O’Hollaren?” Her expression confirmed I should have followed my instinct and lied.
“Yeah, he’s just gloating about having good seats at the Mariners game.” I hoped that my nonchalant tone would calm her down.
“I’m so glad you guys finally became friends,” she reflected. “Jackie thinks you’ve been such a good influence on him. I think she’s a little disappointed you have a boyfriend.”
“Even if I were single, I’m not really his type. It wouldn’t work out,” I attempted to squash any possible fantasies that were formulating in her head, knowing that for years she had hoped somehow I would magically end up with one of her friends’ sons.
“What? He doesn’t like smart, talented, beautiful, caring girls?” my mom asked defensively.
I sighed, thinking I had met my quota of girl talk with her for the day, possibly the week.
“Mom, he’s not religious.”
“Oh, nonsense, I see him with Jackie at church all the time.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I thought he had only been to Mass with his family the one time on Easter. But I had to consider the source. To my mom, ‘all the time,’ probably meant that she had seen him, or even someone that looked like him, like twice.
“Maybe if you went to the 9 a.m. Mass with your dad and me more you would know that,” she said.
I disregarded her attempted to guilt me and went back to my phone. Thomas had made a reference about the movie. I quipped back about his manliness. My mom was eagerly waiting for an update on the conversation.
“I thought we were watching the movie?” I asked before she could get another question in. My mother gave me a look of inspection and then turned her attention back to the movie.
More entertained by Thomas than the movie, I challenged him to name all seven brothers, offering a prize if he did it correctly. I was curious just how extensive his family-friendly film knowledge was. He responded relatively quickly with all seven names. No doubt he looked them all up. It didn’t surprise me when he demanded that his prize be sexy.
I had known Thomas long enough to know that he had specifically done that to make me uncomfortable and poke fun at me. Impulsively, I decided I would give him a taste of his own medicine. I sent back a flirty response, saying that sexy prizes were my specialty. I thought he would joke back.
Five minutes passed without a response...followed by fifteen...followed by two hours. Shit. Shit. Shiiiiiit. What had I been thinking texting something like that to him? At the end of the night, I found myself lying in my childhood bedroom unable to sleep because he had never responded, and my head was filled with all the horrible possibilities of what he was thinking about that stupid text I’d sent.
Ugh. The worst part was that I didn’t even have alcohol to blame. I glanced at the clock to see that it was after one in the morning. I tried to convince myself that Thomas had probably fallen asleep long ago and I was the last thing on his mind...or more likely he was awake, fooling around with some woman he’d met at a bar...either way, I had to be the last thing on his mind.
Unfortunately, this rationalization led to me picturing Thomas making out with someone. Someone tall and skinny with blonde hair, probably wearing a halter top. I bet she had a name like Alexis or Arianna. I tried to stop picturing the scene, but I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Eventually I started thinking about what his kiss would feel like…what sort of things he would say to me. I tried to get myself to stop, even resorting to replaying memories of making out with Sean, but it was no use.
A normal person would’ve been thinking about her own boyfriend, but now it seemed so inappropriate to even picture making out with Ethan. More awkward than anything.
Great. I would rather fantasize about pretty much anyone else over my own boyfriend? That sounds healthy.
Damn it, this was Sean’s fault for making me doubt how I felt. Or maybe it was Ethan’s for being so orthodox. Really it was my fault for not being attracted to what was best for me.
My alarm went off at eight and I regretted the decision to appease my mom by spending the night and going to nine a.m. Mass with her. I tried my best to put myself together and cover the large circles under my eyes, the visible result of my neuroticism that had lasted until well after three a.m.
“Good morning, Sweetie,” my mom exclaimed enthusiastically as she reached to take a sip of coffee.
I felt hungover, minus the excruciating headache, thank God. I mumbled good morning and poured myself a glass of water.
“I really like that top,” my mom complimented.
“Thank you,” I responded quietly.
She looked at me with concern.
“Maurie, are you okay? Did you not sleep well?”
Predictably, she walked over and felt my forehead like I was a child. I considered feigning sickness to get out of Mass for fear that Thomas was going to be there, but knew that if I did, my mother would insist on waiting on me hand and foot. I had enough of a moral compass to know that it would be wrong t
o make her do that just because I was an idiot.
“No, I’m fine,” I smiled. “I guess it’s just hard to get used to a different bed.” I finished my water. “Ready to go?” I tried to mirror her exuberance.
She nodded and we headed out the door.
Ethan was standing outside the front entrance of the church waiting for us. This was unexpected, but yesterday he had asked what Mass I was going to. I saw my mom’s face fill with delight.
“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” she greeted him.
He was wearing a suit and tie. It had been a while since I had seen him in his fancy Mass attire. Then I realized it was Pentecost, the birthday of the Church. Of course Ethan would wear a suit. And now I felt underdressed, despite wearing one of my nicer shirts.
“Good to see you again, Mrs. McCormick.” He shook her hand.
“Oh, please, call me Laura,” she insisted before she went in to hug him.
“You look surprised to see me,” Ethan commented, giving me a quick side hug.
“I just didn’t think you’d want to come to the early Mass,” I explained.
“Who else would I want to celebrate Pentecost with?”
It amused me that he referred to Pentecost as something to be observed like a holiday. I mean, technically, it was a holiday, but not one that people did anything to celebrate outside of going to church...at least I didn’t think anyone did. Was he being clever? Maybe he’d grown up celebrating Pentecost with his family.
I pictured him and all of his family sitting around a table eating a formal dinner, the room decorated in red. Yep, that seemed to be the only type of fantasy I could muster when thinking of Ethan: celebrating random Catholic holidays. Was that normal or weird? At least I wasn’t objectifying him.
We took our seats on the right side of the church, near the statue of Saint Catherine of Siena. This was Ethan’s favorite place to sit, not just because it was near Saint Catherine, but because it was towards the front. Ethan never sat more than six rows back. He said he liked how it made Mass feel more intimate. I asked him one time why he didn’t just go to a smaller church. He said smaller parishes were never able to replicate the holiness he felt in a church like Blessed Sacrament. Must’ve been all the stained glass and brick.
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