Somewhere Unexpected

by Suzanne Glidewell

  “You want me to turn this all the way down?” he pointed at the pitch setting. “Or we could ask them if they have a tee we could set up for you if you prefer?”

  “Leave it,” I responded coolly, no stranger to being pulled into a pissing contest.

  “Are you going to the Archbishop’s gala?” he asked as he walked out of the cage.

  “Not that I know of. The Archbishop and I don’t tend to hang out socially.”

  The first pitch whizzed by me.

  “The youth center is involved every year. The Archbishop hosts a bunch of donors and nonprofits from the area. The Warrens and the Paulsons will be there. It’s two Fridays from now. You should come. I mean, Maura’s going to debrief them on how the program went, but I’m sure they’d want to hear from you too.”

  I finally hit the third pitch. Poorly. “Um, well…”

  How was he able to hold a conversation so easily while hitting?

  “Come on, man, it’ll be fun,” he encouraged.

  I turned and gave him a doubtful look.

  “Well, not fun,” he corrected, “but the food’s usually pretty good.”

  “You sure you’re not vetting me, Finley?” I swung and missed.

  “Yes,” he said emphatically. “I would like the program to continue to be funded, and the Warrens and Paulsons seem to like you, therefore it is in the best interest of the program for me to facilitate you being in the same room as them. Relax your left shoulder,” he threw in a quick pointer on my swing. I doubted it would help but followed his advice anyway. I shocked myself when I made strong contact with the ball.

  “See, I know what I’m talking about,” he reasoned. “You could bring Ashland as your date. Impress her even more when she sees you wearing a suit.”

  “Yes, because wearing a suit and hanging out with the Archbishop is exactly what I need to impress the woman who jumps me every time she’s alone with me,” I said just after I hit the ball perfectly. He let a silence pass as I waited for my next pitch.

  “I’m sure Maura would be happy if you went.”

  He said it just as the ball was released. I didn’t freeze, but the comment wrecked my concentration, and I completely lost my form as I swung. I missed.

  “Not that you would care about that,” he said nonchalantly when I looked over at him before returning to my stance. “So, the voc-ed program is wrapping up for the year,” he commented.

  “Yep.” I replied quickly, rushing my swing and missing the ball. “Two more meetings.”

  “You planning on coming back in the fall?”

  Up until that moment I hadn’t really considered my returning in the fall as a choice. I had been focused on trying to get at least one of the cars drivable within the assigned timeline. Initially, I had planned to have both vehicles fixed, but that had turned out to be too ambitious given the cars that were donated. In the back of my mind, I assumed I would stay until both cars were fixed and that would be that. I paused and focused on only hitting the incoming pitch. Good. Finally, a decent hit.

  “Well, the other car in the garage still needs work, so I figured I would stay on until that was done.”

  “Just asking because I know the Warrens and Paulsons will want to know when you talk to them at the gala.”

  “Oh, so we’ve determined that I’m going?” I laughed, thinking of how Maura had described Father Sean’s tendency to force people into things.

  “I didn’t hear you say you weren’t going.”

  Another swing and a miss. And another. And another.

  “Should I text Maura and ask her to convince you?” he brought her up again, assuming for some reason she would have some sway on the situation.

  “You can, but she’s out with her jackass boyfriend tonight.” At that moment, I forcefully connected with the ball. My best hit of the night.

  “Since when do you have such a strong opinion about who Maura dates?”

  “It’s not an opinion. It’s an observation,” I clarified.

  Father Sean didn’t respond, but I felt the need to explain.

  “Do you know what he got her for her birthday?”

  Once again, he didn’t answer.

  “Skis,” I exclaimed. “Skis for someone who hates skiing. Now,” I hit the ball again, surprising myself with my rhythm, “I don’t claim to have the best success at relationships, but even I know that’s a jackass move. And since when does Maura like the symphony?” I asked rhetorically, connecting with the ball again. “That’s where they are tonight, by the way,” I scoffed. “I mean, it’s not surprising she wouldn’t tell him she has no interest in shit like that, seeing how she turns into a Stepford Wife anytime she’s around him, void of any of actual personality or opinion of her own.”

  I hit the ball five more times, each time with more force than before. I had run out of pitches and stood there catching my breath. Father Sean walked into the cage, maintaining his silence, but giving me a knowing look.

  “What?” I asked, wiping some sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. He shrugged, stepping into the batter’s box as I stepped aside.

  “Just a little surprised to hear you so worked up about a non-factor like Maura,” he quoted my description of her from the Mariners game. I rolled my eyes and exited the cage while he asked, “What makes her a non-factor again?”

  “I’m not into dating saints.”

  “You sure it’s not that you’d rather get laid than have a meaningful relationship with a woman?”

  “I know, shocking. It’s crazy how I, and pretty much every other man out there, feel that way.”

  “About how long does it take you to get bored having sex with a woman?”

  “Depends on the sex, depends on the woman.”

  “But that’s how it ends, right? You get bored and move on to the next, probably about two months, no more than three,” he stated more so than asked.

  “Usually. To be fair though, some of them get bored first.”

  He hit a couple pitches. I waited for him to make his point.

  “And out of all the times you’ve hung out with Maura, have you ever been bored?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “So,” he started loudly and confidently, “you have a woman, and let me clarify: a mentally stable woman, because we both know there will always be those who keep things interesting just by being bat-shit crazy. But anyway, you have a sane woman, who has managed to consistently hold your interest without any sort of promise or expectation of sex.”

  He had continued to hit perfectly throughout his spiel, which was irritating. He turned to me. “I don’t know about you, but I would put my money on life and even sex being the most interesting with her.”

  I stayed silent.

  “You just have to ask yourself if you’re mature enough to delay gratification temporarily.”

  “Well, thank you for that moving sermon, Father Finley,” I deflected, “but I’m wise enough to recognize what’s unattainable when I see it. And I see no reason to subject myself or Maura to what will ultimately be a train wreck, should I choose to take your advice.”

  I had lost count of his hits by this point. It was clear Father Sean was just warming up with his first turn.

  “Nobility,” he laughed. “Always a good disguise for cowardice. Remember you’re talking to the guy who considered marrying her instead of becoming a priest because it was the easier thing to do, not necessarily the right thing.”

  “Well, I’m starting to wish that had happened so we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”

  “Sorry,” he apologized, again swinging and hitting the ball effortlessly. “I didn’t know you approached life the same way you approach the setting on your pitch speed.”

  “What do you care anyway? I would assume you’d want Maura to be with a puritan like herself, not some
heathen who would constantly be trying to get into her pants and disappointing her with his lack of holiness.”

  “Such low expectations of yourself,” he mimicked my comment earlier with a laugh. “Look, Maura can handle a guy who’s constantly trying to get into her pants. This, I know. And as for the other part, she doesn’t need holiness; she needs faithfulness.”

  I remained silent and let him finish his pitches, despite not really understanding the difference between the two concepts. I was curious what he meant but thought asking for an explanation would only confirm his suspicions; I cared about Maura more than I was willing to admit, but I still wasn’t willing to give up casual sex, regardless of how strong those stupid feelings were starting to become.

  MAURA

  I sat at my desk finishing up progress notes from the past couple of days. Over three-fourths of my list had been completed; not bad, considering it was only Wednesday.

  I crossed another note off my list. Even though it was the end of the day, I decided to stay at the office until my final six notes were recorded.

  God, I love crossing things off a list. Is that weird?

  Before I could rationalize why it wasn’t weird, I heard someone tap on the door. It was Thomas, still wearing his coveralls.

  “Hey,” I greeted.

  “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “So, um, we just finished our last day out there.”

  “I know. Big day. Were they sad?” I waited for a report of some sort of dysfunctional behavior.

  “No, not really,” he continued to stand in the doorway, “but that’s probably because I told them I was coming back in the fall.”

  “Oh, you are?” I hadn’t meant for my voice to sound so surprised. It had crossed my mind that Thomas may not want to continue volunteering his time, but I’d avoided thinking about it because I didn’t want to think about how I would no longer see him on a weekly basis. Just as I had avoided thinking about today being his last day.

  “Uh, yeah, I mean, we didn’t even really get started on the other car so, it just makes sense to stick around until that’s finished.” He paused. “That is, if you guys decide you want to keep me around.”

  It wasn’t like him to fish for validation.

  “Well, you managed not to try to baptize any of the kids or make out with them, so you’re doing better than some other volunteers we’ve had in the past,” I said. “Truthfully, we haven’t really talked about whether you would come back or not. I think we all hoped you would though.”

  He nodded, now tapping his knuckles against the doorframe. What else did he want to tell me?

  “So, that gala thing this Friday,” he began, but then stopped.

  I nodded.

  “Father Sean suggested that I go in case the donors wanted to talk to me,” he said.

  I knew it made sense for him to be there, but I couldn’t get past Sean, someone who wasn’t even part of our staff, taking it upon himself to ask Thomas to be there. Okay, so I hadn’t invited Thomas, mostly because I didn’t want to see him there with Ashland. The two of them dressed in formal wear, with her internship officially over and there being no need to hold back on any public displays of affection…it was the last thing I wanted to see that evening. I stared at him blankly as thoughts of him making out with Ashland entered my head and left a knot in my stomach.

  “Unless you don’t think I should go,” he said uncertainly.

  “No, no,” I quickly corrected and forced myself to smile. “Of course. I think that’s a great idea. I guess I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to go to something boring like that.”

  “Well, I’d like to do anything I can to help make sure the program can continue, whether it’s for auto-mechanics or some other skill.”

  He sounded so genuine. Now I felt guilty for being petty. I nodded and there was an awkward silence.

  “Father Sean said you were going to give a report about the program. I thought it might be good if I looked it over before Friday?”

  “Oh yeah, of course,” I confirmed, but didn’t offer any dates for when that could happen.

  “Do you think maybe I could see it tonight?”

  He sounded timid once again. I couldn’t blame him for his tone; even I was confused by all my pauses.

  “Oh,” I attempted to shake myself out of my awkwardness. “Yeah, well,” I motioned for him to come into the office and sit down next to my desk.

  I closed out of my progress notes and switched over to the report document. “Ann didn’t want me printing it out until she had a chance to go over it, but if you have time, you can read it right now. It’s about ten pages. But there are some graphs in there, so it’s not too long.”

  “I don’t want to keep you here,” he backtracked.

  “No, it’s fine, I was planning to stay later tonight anyway.” I turned my computer screen towards him.

  “But it’s Wednesday. Don’t you have Mass?”

  “I wasn’t planning on going tonight,” I said truthfully. I was not in the mood to hang out with the Blessed Sacrament Young Adult crowd on a day that wasn’t an obligation, even if my boyfriend was there. Thomas gave me a look of concern.

  “Relax, I still go on Sundays,” I clarified. “Read away.”

  He leaned in to get a better look at the report. We sat in silence for a good fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, while Thomas had something to read, I had nothing but my stupid rambling thoughts.

  God, he smells good. What is that, aftershave? Why doesn’t he smell like gasoline or oil? Is it weird that I’m noticing what he smells like? Probably, yes. Why can’t I remember what Ethan smells like?

  Finally, Thomas sat back against his chair, signifying that he was done reading.

  “Sorry I had to sit here while you read. I know it’s awkward, but there are rules about access to my computer,” I explained. That was the truth. It was required…I didn’t do it because I liked how he smelled.

  “Are you going to have to kill me now?” he joked, the first semblance of his personality to appear since he’d arrived.

  “Not me. That’s Syd’s job,” I joked back. “So, do you have any questions?”

  “Yeah. How was the symphony?” He grinned at his question that had nothing to do with my report.

  “It was, uh…”

  “That boring, eh?”

  “God, yes,” I admitted on an exhale. I withheld the fact that the only redeeming quality of the night had been making out in Ethan’s car afterwards – very tamely, of course.

  “I feel bad. My eyes started to glaze over about half way through. I mean, I feel like I should’ve liked it. All of those people are really talented. I couldn’t do what they were doing, but I just…didn’t like it. Guess I’m not cultured.”

  “With an iPod playlist like yours? I’m shocked you would feel that way,” Thomas teased. I reflexively slapped his arm.

  “Don’t tell Ethan. I told him I loved it. I think he already has plans for us to go to another one. But I think it’ll be at Christmas time. That one should be better, right?”

  He shrugged.

  “I couldn’t tell you. We mechanics aren’t really the cultured type.”

  “You’re telling me that after living in New York City for four years you didn’t become the least bit sophisticated?”

  “Hardly. Just pretentious,” he clarified. “But I usually reserve that skill for when I go to art galleries. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

  I was caught off guard by his suggestion, especially since he maintained eye contact after saying it.

  “Thanks, but I’ll let you save that skill for Ashland,” I meant for the statement to come across as funny. Too bad it sounded bitter. Attempting to recover, I quickly changed the subject. “So, besides my lack of appreciation for the arts, did you have specific questions about the report?”


  “No, it all sounds good. I’m glad that I got to be a part of it,” he reflected seriously.

  “We are too,” I spoke for the center as whole, knowing it would sound too personal to say that I was glad. I wasn’t ready to let him leave, so I kept the conversation going. “Hey, how were the batting cages with Sean? Besides him telling you that you have to whore yourself out for donations at the gala.” I was proud when I made him smile, a small recovery from my failed Ashland joke.

  “Batting cages were fine. Except for the whole part where a priest kicked my ass at hitting.”

  “I’m guessing Sean failed to tell you that he played for Notre Dame?”

  Thomas’ mouth opened.

  “Son of a bitch. Are you serious? Yes, he failed to share that small fact. Now I’m pissed.”

  “Finley got you again. I tried to warn you about him,” I reminded. “He probably didn’t tell you because he thought you wouldn’t go with him if you knew. He tends to downplay how athletic he is just so he has someone to play with.”

  “I take it you were tricked into the batting cages at some point as well?”

  “No, not the batting cages, but I remember several horrible dates to the bowling alley and racquetball court.”

  “Well, we’re just going to have find something we’re better at than him.”

  “Good luck.” Trying to best Sean at anything had never worked out well for me.

  “Just competitive when it comes to trivia about family-friendly films, eh?”

  “You gotta stick to your strengths,” I said matter-of-factly. I glanced at the clock and hoped he would invite me to dinner like he had done in the past.

  “So,” he said, noticing that I’d looked at the time, “I should probably get going.” He stood up and pulled out his keys, fiddling with them for a bit. “Thanks for letting me see that report. I’ll see you Friday night.”

  “No problem.”

  Maybe I should invite him to dinner?