Bound Hearts (3 page)

She texted Mary to announce she was outside waiting while she stretched her calves and rotated her core, working out the new kinks that had accompanied the arrival of her thirtieth birthday. The fading fall sunlight filtered through the trees that lined Mary’s street. Couples strolled hand in hand traveling to or from dinner, while joggers avoided collisions with errant toddlers intent on remaining in front of their frazzled parents. No more than two minutes after sending the text, Mary and Max joined her on the sidewalk in front of Mary’s apartment building.

“Hey you,” Mary said as Max, her beloved yellow lab, pulled her down the steps to promptly brush his nose on Calleigh’s yoga pants.

“Hey yourself. Hi, mister. I think you know I brought you something.” As Max nosed his way up and down the side of her leg, she withdrew a heart-sized dog treat from her jacket pocket. Max practically jumped at it once it entered his field of vision.

“You are too good to him. You know that, right?” Mary said, a slight laugh lighting up her comment.

“Max deserves to be spoiled. And what exactly are you talking about? I’ve never known you to not make sure Max gets a treat after every single walk and even after every time you let him out.” Indeed, Mary spoiled the yellow lab, constantly lavishing him with affection and treats.

“True enough. I can’t help it. He’s my baby. How was your week?” Mary asked.

“I’ve had better. I had two DHS calls, one on Monday and a second one on Tuesday. Then on Thursday Lauren called and floated the idea of going to Mexico for Christmas. Mexico, for God’s sakes.”

“What’s wrong with Mexico?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Mexico for things like Spring Break or summer vacation. But Mexico is not meant for Christmas. I mean, would it kill her to enjoy a traditional holiday?”

“You could have fun. It might be nice to get away and catch some rays in December,” Mary consoled.

“I’ll be with Lauren. Vacationing with my mother is most definitely not fun
.
Unless you want to join us. Now, we would have fun. What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Going home. I haven’t seen the ‘rents since I moved out here. It’s time and I want to see them.”

Last year, she’d successfully convinced Mary to throw her hat in the ring when a position opened at Walker. After securing the job, Mary gave her notice and moved from Michigan at the end of the school year. It was a win-win situation. Calleigh could enjoy her best friend in person instead of across two thousand miles, and Walker landed a first-rate math teacher.

As they crossed Lovejoy, she cleared her throat, intent on broaching a topic that had bothered her all week. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Mary turned sideways, giving her a long glance. “That sounds ominous.”

“It’s not ominous, but it’s something that’s been bothering me and I’ve been wondering how to address it.”

“It’s usually best to get it out.”

“Ok. Here goes. Last week, on the phone, I felt like you were holding something back. About Michael Santiago.”

There. She’d said it. Finally.

Mary remained quiet, the stillness of the street accentuating the silence lingering between them.

“Nothing happened per se. Nothing sexual,” Mary clarified. “Look, it was a weird night. He came over and was a lot like he was in college--quiet, unassuming. Big. He’s a lot bigger than I remembered.”

“What was the problem?”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t know. Everything was fine. We were sitting there eating dinner--”

“What’d you make?” she interrupted.

“Lasagna.”

“I love your lasagna,” she sighed. Cheese. Carbs. More cheese. Pure perfection in a pan.

“Yeah, well, I made it because I figured it was safe. Things were fine and we were making general, somewhat benign, superficial conversation, when he snapped at me.”

“Snapped at you about what?”

“He wanted to know if I was interested in dating his teammates.”

“Hmmm. That’s weird. Where would he get that from?”

“Hell if I know. All I do know is after I said I wasn’t, he shut down, cleared his dishes and blew out of my apartment. He didn’t even stay for the dessert I made.”

“Well, it’s been a week. Have you heard from him?” she asked.

“No.”

“Have you contacted him?”

“No.” A few seconds of silence. “Do you think I should have?”

“No, absolutely not. He needs to be the one to extend the olive branch, not you. Putting him aside for a moment, how do you feel?”

“I’m confused. I don’t know why he said that and I didn’t deserve to be treated like that,” Mary confessed.

“You’re absolutely right. What possibly made him think you were interested in any of his teammates? I mean, do you even know any of them?”

“No. I was asking him what he did on the weekends for fun and he said all he does is watch game tapes. Even during the off-season. Since he doesn’t seem to do much, I was trying to tease him about what his teammates do and that was when he accused me of being interested in the other players.

“I never should have asked him over in the first place. He didn’t want to come and I’m sure he was only humoring me.”

“Mary,” Calleigh said. “I told you before. Single men, who as far as I can tell includes Michael, do not give up their Friday nights to spend with women they are not at least somewhat interested in.”

“You don’t know Michael. He doesn’t do much socially. Never has.”

“I may not know Michael, but I know men. No single, straight man would have come over to your apartment on a Friday night without either some hope or some desire for something more than dinner. They wouldn’t have done it, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Trust me on this. The comment Michael made about you dating his teammates? That’s not the kind of comment a man makes about a woman he considers,” she used both hands for air quotes, “‘a friend’.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Maybe. If he was interested though, and I don’t think he was, wouldn’t he have done something differently? Like not act like a jerk?”

“Wait, wait, wait. We need to roll it back a few years. How exactly did you know him at Wisconsin?”

“I met him through the math department. I was assigned to tutor him. He was struggling and worried, so he was one of my tutees the fall of our senior year. That’s how I got to know him.”

“That’s it?” Calleigh asked, somewhat shell-shocked that Mary had never disclosed her connection to him either while they were in school or more recently. How could this have happened? How could Mary have withheld such critically important info from her? Of course, she harbored secrets about men she kept from Mary.

“Yes.”

“And you never had any contact with him before you ran into him a few weeks ago?” she clarified.

Mary shook her head. “Nope. None. I graduated that year and we didn’t stay in touch. We didn’t even have a friendship. I tutored him. We never talked about our friends or our families. Well, I should say he never talked about his friends or his family. Or even football. Our sessions were strictly work sessions. We reviewed his homework assignments and I administered practice tests.”

“Is he dumb?” Santiago
was
a football player after all and in her experience with men, God blessed them either with brains or brawn. Rarely, both.

“No. Not at all. On his placement tests, he’d placed into Calc II and was saddled with Larkins. You remember how he was, all expectations and no explanations. I think Michael received a C on his first test, freaked out, and signed up for tutoring. As far as I know, he ended the class with a high B.”

“Oh good. I can’t see you with a man who isn’t smart.”

“You’re putting the cart before the horse, woman.”

“No, I’m not. He wants to get into your pants.”

“No he does not.”

“Yes he does. When you two finally do it, I will definitely be saying I told you so,” Calleigh teased. “What are you going to do about him?”

Mary shrugged. “I’m not planning on doing anything.”

“Oh no. Doing nothing is not an option. Mary, for a romantic woman who puts more stock in faith than any other person outside of a convent, you are missing the divine signs here.”

“I’m not interested in embarrassing myself. Again.”

“Again? What are you talking about?”

“I’m embarrassed he came over only because he felt obligated.”

“Get over it. That wasn’t why he came over and the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can get into his pants.”

Mary laughed. “He does wear a fine set of pants.”

“You check out the game today?”

“Sure did.”

“Me too. Who knew men could make tight pants look good?”

“It’s a mystery.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. If you like him, you like him and you need to go for it. If I know anything it’s that we only get one shot. If you don’t take your shot with Michael, you’ll never know if anything could have happened. The worst thing that could potentially happen, which I do not consider a real, bona fide possibility, is nothing. Big deal.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve never been rejected in your life.”

If only.

“What makes you think I’ve never been rejected?” she asked, honestly intrigued. Rejections had come her way plenty of times throughout the years. And she thought she’d shared those with her best friend. Who evidently sustained no recollection of the many times her heart had been twisted and wounded.

“Let’s see. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve consistently alternated between serious, long-term relationships and casually dating different men,” Mary answered.

“Well, believe it or not, I’ve been rejected.”

“By who?”

“David Shalvington.”

“Wait. The guy from the Tide?”

“Yes. He’s on my soccer team and the Tide’s general manager.”

“Small world, him working for the Tide. Anyway, he actually turned you down?”

She hesitated answering, knowing that she was about to be called out. Which was nothing less than she deserved.

“Ok, Miss-You-Should-Ask-Michael-Out. Did you ask this guy out?” Mary prompted as her silence lengthened.

“Not exactly,” she hedged as she fiddled with the zipper on her hoodie.

“What do you mean, not exactly?” Mary challenged

“Well, I, umm, haven’t explicitly asked him out, but I’ve made it abundantly clear on numerous occasions that I’m interested.”

Sort of.

Mary shook her head.

“You’re giving me grief when you haven’t even asked this guy out?” she asked, her incredulity brimming through the words.

“Well,” Calleigh waffled, “I’ve given him plenty of opportunities to take the initiative. After so many times when he hasn’t, it wouldn’t have felt right for me to ask him out. It seems desperate.”

Wasn’t that what a woman was supposed to do? Put out the signals, let the pheromones do their thing, and then let nature take its natural course?

Of course not
, her inner Gloria Steinem reminded her.
If you want him, ask him out. This is 2012, you know.
Women can qualify for mortgages, buy cars, vote, and ask men out.
They can even buy the condoms.

“Calleigh Stuart, I am in shock. You sit here lecturing me about not asking Michael out, and you’ve been attracted to a man who you haven’t done anything about.”

Mary’s reprimand tripled her sense of guilt.

“I know, I know. I’m a terrible person. A total hypocrite, but I can’t do it.”

They rounded the corner at Walgreens and headed north on Northwest Twenty-First Avenue.

“Let’s make a deal,” Mary propositioned. “I’ll ask Michael out if you ask David out.”

“You’ll go first?”

“Only if you pinkie promise you will actually ask Shalvington out on an official date.”

“Ok.”

“We have to both have asked them out within the next four weeks. Deal?”

“Deal.”

§ § §

The next Saturday dawned bright and crisp. The sun sparkled on Delta Park, lighting up the fields and warming up the players zipping up and down the sidelines. Calleigh’s soccer game had finished and she and her teammates were trading cleats for flip flops and packing away water bottles and sweaty shirts.

“Hey, Calleigh.” She turned her head to see two of her teammates, Brandi Malone and Steve Thompson, approach her, kicking up mud the whole way. “Shalvington suggested Crow Bar for a late happy hour. You want to come with us?”

Crow Bar was a small, dark bar over on North Mississippi with a juke box, lots of pool tables, draft beer, and a mellow vibe. Unfortunately, she avoided alcohol the way she avoided refined sugar. Empty calories that aged you, your skin, and your liver. However, hearing David was going to be there, she took it as a sign. Who knew the next time the opportunity would present itself for her to ask him out? Under absolutely no circumstances would she renege on her promise to Mary. Besides, if it was only the four of them, he couldn’t ignore her. Maybe even he could discover he liked her.

“Sure.”

“Cool. See you there.”

While parking wasn’t easy, once she walked through Crow Bar’s entrance, she knew she’d made the right decision. She could feel it deep in her gut. The kind of knowledge that confirmed that every single misstep that had led to tonight was simply one bumpy path to true love. Tonight was the night. The setting was perfect. Nice and dark. Booze would loosen her tongue and her inhibitions. She could ask David out if and when Brandi and Steve gave them some privacy.

The other three all beat her and secured a booth close to the bar’s front entrance.

“Hi guys,” she greeted as she walked up, taking in each occupant. Brandi was tucked in close to the wall and David had taken up residence next to her, leaving the spot next to Steve and directly across from David wide open.

“Hi,” the three of them chimed as she hung up her hoodie on the side of the booth and settled in next to Steve.

“What’d I miss?” she asked, desperately trying not to notice that as soon as she had seated herself, David immediately looked away towards the bar. And continued to look anywhere except at her. She was dying to turn her head to see what captivated his attention, but she refused to give in this early. He would talk to her and not because she asked him questions he would have no choice but to respond to, but because he wanted to speak with her.