navy jerseys, searching for any sign of number thirty-nine.
She hadn’t been disappointed. Michael was single handedly responsible for three sacks and one fumble recovery. Despite his successful plays, every time the station’s camera tracked him to the sidelines, none of his teammates engaged in celebrations with him. No ass slapping. No chest bumping. Not even the basic, retro high five. No one talked to, or even approached him. It saddened her he appeared to have devoted his life to a sport and a team he received no joy from.
Calleigh’s text announced she was outside waiting. After recovering the leash in the bathroom, Mary and Max joined her at the bottom of the building’s steps.
“Hey you.”
“Hey yourself. Hi, mister. I think you know I brought you something.” As Max nosed his way up and down the side of Calleigh’s pants, she withdrew a heart sized dog treat from her jacket pocket Max practically jumped once it entered his field of vision.
“You are too good to him. You know that, right?”
“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.”
“True enough. I can’t help it. He’s my baby.”
The rain had stopped and they set off turning left on Northwest Twenty-Third to trek up to Burnside, over to Twenty-First and back to Mary’s apartment. The streets on a Sunday night were characteristically quiet as though they too were trying to rejuvenate and prepare for the week ahead.
“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 me up 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.”
“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 the holidays?”
“Going home. I haven’t seen the ‘rents since I moved out here. It’s time and I want to see them.”
As they crossed Lovejoy, Calleigh cleared her throat. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Mary turned to study her, her long look missing nothing. “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.”
Mary immediately had the urge to crack her neck, something she only did when she was uncomfortable. Or nervous. She was prepared to deny she’d held anything back, but the cover of night fortified her with courage. By withholding, she wasn’t being fair to Calleigh. Mary let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Nothing happened per se. Nothing sexual,” she 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.” Remembering the way Michael had filled out during the intervening years caused a pleasant shudder to course through her body.
“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?” Calleigh interrupted.
“Lasagna.”
“I love your lasagna,” Calleigh sighed.
“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