MAGPIE (6 page)

I’d lost track of Brett soon after high school. I stayed put, attending Colorado State University, while he went on to Arizona State, largely because of a football scholarship. ASU was his kind of school: round-the-clock party time and no foul weather to get in the way. I’d been awarded a partial academic scholarship to CSU, but still had to work my way through school. Even if Brett had lost his scholarship (which, amazingly, he didn’t), his folks would have paid the bill; a luxury available to just a few…me excluded. He was an only child, and his folks doted on him as if he were a royal prince. No matter our proximity, we would have drifted apart.

Stammering a bit, Brett asked, “So, what are you doing now?”

I hated those reunion-type questions.
Google me if you must know,
I felt like saying.

“Oh, just working, you know.”

Please, please don’t ask…

“You married? Have kids?”

Oh hell…

“No, you?” I wasn’t going to delve into details about my marital status or worse, explain that I’d lost my only son in combat; not to a former high-school jock who I fooled around with during an otherwise unremarkable summer.

“Divorced. Three kids, all girls. They’re grown now, living on the east coast near their mom and stepdad. Proud as hell of each one of ’em. They all went to college and have great jobs. None of ’em are married, though. That’s okay, I can wait for grandkids.” Brett was rambling, and I could see he was uncomfortable.

“Well, it was really good to run into you, Brett. Gotta run. Take care.” And, as I turned to find the damn oil, He stepped in front of me and asked, “Hey, Maggie, want to go out some time?”

I said half-heartedly, “I suppose we could go grab a beer or something. I’m so busy with work, though. I just don’t know when…” I chided myself for not having the courage to spit out the words that formed in my head:
No fucking way.

“Great! Okay, so here’s my number, when you’re ready.” Brett, the ever-cocky jock, spun around and walked off. I looked at the Home Depot “pick up” slip he’d handed me with his number scribbled at the top and laughed out loud at the ridiculous metaphor.

Brett Benson. What a blast from the past. He still looked good—really good, in fact. About five ten or eleven, muscular, tanned, intense green eyes and wavy light-brown hair. No gray, which was interesting.
Did Brett dye his hair?

We hadn’t gotten around to questions about our respective careers, and I was curious why he was working at Home Depot. Don’t get me wrong, my ideal retirement gig would be working in Home Depot’s garden center twenty hours a week with winters off, migrating South with all the other snowbirds. Maybe a beer with Brett and a trip down memory lane wasn’t such a bad idea.

I finally found the citronella, checked out and headed home. Thoughts of Brett and our adolescent romance filled my head, and I barely noticed the buzz of my phone.

I fumbled for a second before answering, “Hello?”

“Mags, it’s Tina. You were
so
on my mind today, and I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” I could sense the concern in her voice.

“Tina, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you?” I honestly was interested in how my best friend was doing. Tina and Katie had kept me alive those first few months after losing Jack and Michael—she might as well have been my sister.

“Good, chica, good. I know it’s last minute, but I want to talk you into lunch. Smothered burritos and ice-cold Coronas, on me.” Tina was in a constant state of motion and good cheer. We’d met at a personal development seminar a few years back, and her authenticity instantly drew me in. We’d been great friends ever since.

I didn’t have to consider the invitation for more than a second, “I’m in, sister. When and where?”

Thirty minutes later, Tina and I were sitting at a table in a local dive that happened to have the best burritos and coldest beer in town.

Halfway through an icy Corona, she asked, “How’ve you
really
been, chica?”

Tina, a Latina with strong features and long black hair, grew up in southern Colorado. Sixth generation, she’d been the first to leave the world of ranching in pursuit of a college degree, the first in her family to earn one. She fell into her vernacular easily, providing a cultural leave from her professional life as an assistant district attorney in Denver.

“Rough morning, Tina, not going to lie.” It had been one of the roughest, I realized. “Got really pissed, pissed at the government, pissed at Jack, even pissed at Michael. As you can imagine, my guilt crept up and bit me on the ass. Of all the people to survive
, me
.” I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself; I truly didn’t understand why I lived and they died.

“I can’t even pretend to know what it’s like. But I do know you, and I know you’ll come out of all this miserable horse shit a stronger and happier person. Hell, you’re halfway there, I can see it!”

See
what
, I wondered.

“Yeah, I know, I just want today to be over.” I polished off my beer and ordered another. Our food hadn’t arrived yet, so I nibbled on a few chips. “So, what’s new with my badass DA?”

Tina smiled, “First, I’m not
the
DA, I’m an
assistant district attorney, ‘assistant’ being the operative word. Second, and this has nothing to do with work, we’re finally going to get hitched! For real, Mags. In California, not here. Civil unions are for wimps.” Tina was beaming and her joy was palpable.

“Tina! Oh my God! I am so happy for you guys. Did Trish pop the question or did you? Hell, I didn’t even know you guys were seriously talking about it.” I was speaking so quickly, Tina started laughing.

“Trish did. We went camping a few weeks ago…I think I told you. We have a favorite spot in New Mexico where it’s pretty warm this time of year.”

Stopping briefly to catch her breath and take a swig, she continued, “She tied my ring to Bella’s collar and patiently waited for me to find it.” I could see Tina’s mind was back at the campsite, reliving the experience. “We were getting ready for bed, and I gave Bella a bear hug before crawling into my sleeping bag. That’s when I felt it.” Grinning from ear to ear, she went on, “Trish had put it in a velvet bag, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Then I opened it and screamed, of course.” Screaming was Tina’s way of expressing all emotions, good and bad. I cracked up every time I heard her signature shriek.

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” I asked tentatively.

“Are you fucking serious? Come on, Mags, we may live in a progressive city but the DA’s office is full of stiffs. No way, not now.” She lowered her eyes, not out of shame, but frustration over her career choice.

“Honey, I get it.” I put my left hand over hers and, with my right, held up my beer bottle, “Salud, chica! To the most amazing couple I know.”

We gobbled our food and had another round before she asked me her burning question, “So Mags, get any cock lately?”

Choking on my beer, I said, “Holy shit, Tina, there’s a family right over there.”

We looked at the table across from us, packed with a large Latino family with kids ranging from toddlers to a preteen boy who looked exactly like his mom and nothing like his dad. They were oblivious to our conversation and I sighed with relief.

“Seriously, a few beers and you’re worse than any one of Michael’s sailor friends!” I didn’t even think before the words spewed out of my mouth.

Tina looked at me with reservation, but I spoke before the conversation became strained, “I’m okay, Tina, really. I love talking about him. Makes my kid less of a ghost.” We smiled at each other and both took another sip of beer.

“So, I have a secret. Something Katie doesn’t even know about.” I said coyly.

“Oh yeah? I’m listening. Come on, what it is?”

Tina had little patience for conversational set ups, so I just blurted it out, “I’m having internet sex.” She choked on a corn chip and tried to recover her voice but not before I continued, “Wait, that sounded really dumb. I think I’m drunk! Okay, what I meant was this guy and I text and, well, it’s pretty hot texting, if you know what I mean.”

Clearing her throat, Tina barked, “What the fuck are you talking about, Mags? No, I don’t know what you mean. This sounds really creepy, seriously.” She’d put on her professional hat and was looking at me like I was a victim of some horrific crime.

“Tina, chill, Christ. You haven’t even heard the full story.”

I was beginning to regret bringing it up, when she said, “Look, Mags, I know it’s been rough for you, which makes you vulnerable. I see so much shit, terrible shit, Mags. I care about you, I just want you to be careful.”

She meant every word, I could tell. But Tina didn’t have the full story, and I tried to convince her that this guy was actually a good one. Making my case, I said, “First, he doesn’t live here, not even close. He lives in Atlanta. Or at least somewhere within that area code.”

“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Mags, seriously?” I didn’t like where this conversation was going and needed to put an end to it. But Tina went on, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, chica, really. I see this kind of thing all the time and the women always get hurt. Physically, emotionally and financially. You’ve got to put a stop to it, okay?”

Knowing there was no getting through to her, I said, “Yeah, you’re right. We don’t text that much anymore, anyway. It was just a dumb fling. Please don’t worry. Plus, I’m dating a guy from high school, if you can believe that.”

Subject closed, lesson learned.

I told Tina about running into Brett but concocted a story that convinced her that we’d been dating for a few weeks, which made it easy for me to dump “ATL,” a name she quickly ascribed to Daniel. I couldn’t help feeling deflated after our lunch.

In some ways, I was closer to Tina than Katie. We traded details of our lives I couldn’t imagine sharing with my sister. Like the time I had a three-way in college (two girls and a boy), or the time she fucked a guy in her car while she was on break from her waitress job during law school; she hadn’t yet come out at work and was trying to fit in.

Were my trysts with Daniel dangerous? Had I gone too far? I’d learned to trust my gut over the years, and my gut was not warning me of danger. Ironically, it was urging me to take it up a notch. I was tired of questioning myself, and I just wanted to go home, shower and see if Daniel was available for some hardcore sexting.

Having had a few too many, I walked around the neighborhood after we left. I loved to walk and, luckily, was wearing comfortable shoes. Ten minutes later, I hit the Cherry Creek Path, an outdoor hot spot Jack and I used to walk and bike. Thinking back, I realized I hadn’t been on it since he’d died. The wide, concrete swath was packed, and I enjoyed watching people fly by on bikes and inline skates. I lingered on a young couple strolling along, soaking in the brilliant Colorado sun; regret welling remembering how we used to promise each other we’d spend more quality time together.

By the time I got back to the restaurant parking lot, the sun had started to set. The sky over the mountains was brushed with hues of pink and orange, and the few clouds above were rimmed with gold. “Spectacular sunset, Jack. I miss you.” I whispered to myself.

I jumped into Beater and headed home. It was five-thirty and I couldn’t imagine where the afternoon had gone. I stopped by the market for a spinach salad and some fresh fruit. Cody greeted me with gusto, partially because he thought I was just that cool; more because he was hungry.

I poured a cup of long-awaited kibble into his dish and scratched his head, “Here you go, buddy, bon appétit!”

Stripping off my clothes on the way to the bathroom, I was ready for a good rinse. I started with my hair, massaging my scalp with moisturizing shampoo because my curly hair was dry, especially in Denver’s semi-arid climate. Using my new exfoliator, I gently scrubbed my face; I had decent skin, and I wanted to keep it that way. I grabbed my buffing cloth, a free gift I received for spending way too much money on skin care products at Macy’s. Admittedly, I liked the way if felt and took an extra few minutes to massage my tired legs. My hand moved higher on my left thigh, unexpectedly arousing me.

The last time I masturbated in the shower had to have been before Michael was born. Since then, I hadn’t had the time, or the inclination quite frankly. Jack and I often had sex in the shower, and elsewhere, I recalled fondly.

So why, out of the blue, was I horny as hell?

Still covered in lather, I slowly ran my hands over my breasts, squeezing them gently. My nipples were very sensitive—always had been—and perked to pinches and nibbles. Only being able to manage the former, I worked them unusually hard until they stuck out like plump raisins. I was getting wet and throbbing like crazy.

A breath escaped my mouth, and I said, “Danny Boy, I could fuck you right now.”

I stopped abruptly and quickly rinsed off. I wanted Daniel’s expert assistance, and I got out of the shower, barely drying off. No need for my PJ’s, I ran to my room and jumped into my bed.The digital clock glowed 6:47 p.m., which meant 8:47 p.m. his time. Most nights, Daniel went to bed late, so surely he’d be awake,

Today, 6:47 PM

MAGS: U up?

I waited exactly four minutes for a reply. It felt like hours,

DANIEL: In what way do u mean?

MAGS: Mmm

DANIEL: U wet?

MAGS: How’d u know that?!

DANIEL: I can smell your sweet pussy from here

MAGS: Don’t make me cum fast

DANIEL: My cock is hard, throbbing wanting you to sit on it

MAGS: No, need it from behind

DANIEL: Want to flip you over, bring your ass high in the air

MAGS: Squeeze my tits

DANIEL: Oh yeah, got both of em in my hands, squeezing

MAGS: I need it fast and hard tonight

DANIEL: I can do that

MAGS: Wait – go slow first

DANIEL: Working up to it, slowly pumping your throbbing pussy

MAGS: Can’t type anymore

DANIEL: Ok, let’s finish it

MAGS: Me 2

I put the phone down and screamed, almost in agony. It was one of the most intense orgasms I’d had in recent memory—one of the fastest, too. I came so easily with Daniel; just thinking of him stirred every cell in my body. I caught my breath and reached for my phone,