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We never reconnected, and after I graduated, life got crazy quickly. I lost track of everyone, even my closest friends, in a whirlwind of classes, a new city, and the offers to skip college and join the minor leagues. Considering my academic career essentially consisted of ‘things I kind of liked other than baseball,’ I really didn’t care much, and after only a year of classes, I waited to see what offers would come in the summer.
The draft was something spectacular, and even though I was a mid-round pick, mostly because of how young and inexperienced I was, I was excited by it, and I signed with a healthy bonus right away. My parents moved to the border of Canada to be nearby, and by the time I joined the expansion team, refilling the role it left when it left town decades before, I was among the crop of young blood that was destined to be the future of the organization.
I didn’t disappoint. Not yet, anyway. My agent was whispering all the time about how insanely rich I would be once free agency hit if I stayed on target, but that was a couple of years away. For now, I was wealthy, but not stupid money rich. Enough that coming through Murdock, Texas as we swung between Arlington and Houston meant I could take the boys out for some beer in a limo and show them a bit of the high life that they assumed I lived all the time.
Dropping by Big Danny T’s was their idea, and I was surprised when I walked in and saw it had turned into a karaoke bar. Not that it dissuaded me; I was just used to Murdock being the home of run-down redneck bars and biker hangouts. Not exactly the place one would expect to see a neighbor crooning love songs at eight in the evening after one too many highballs.
Yet there I was, my only night in Murdock, in Big Danny T’s bar watching the girl I’d never quite forgotten from high school singing in a voice that was as angelic as ever. She had a real talent, even if I might have been a bit partial. And I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
As Mallory finished her song, I stood and clapped, which seemed to spread out among the other people there. Not that they weren’t clapping for her already, but apparently the word of my fame had spread already, and people were looking to me for direction. It was weird, but a fact of life. People liked pleasing famous people, especially those that came from their hometown. It gave them a thrill for some reason. If I was standing and clapping, by golly, other people were going to as well.
Mallory had to pass by the table I had moved to while she was singing, which was one of the reasons I’d chosen it. As she neared me, I stepped in her path, and she slowed down and stopped just a foot or so away from me, beaming with pride, and the familiar blush crossing her cheeks.
“Hello, Mallory,” I said.
“Hi, Graham,” she said, the smile on her lips belying that she was at least as happy to see me as I was her. Her eyes twinkled in the bar lighting, and I felt my chest tighten. She still wore the same perfume.
“You were incredible,” I said. “Even better than I remember.”
“Better than you remember?” she asked. “We only hung out once, as I recall. I don’t think you ever heard me sing.”
“Oh yes I did,” I said. “You were the lead in the musical that spring after the one you were painting for.”
“You saw that?” she asked.
“I did. I saw both of them. And the one-act,” I said. “Camino Realwas as amazing as you said it was, by the way.”
“You remember the play?” she asked. “Wow.”
I shrugged. “I ended up reading some other Tennessee Williams stuff in college,” I said. “I even took an acting class.”
“How did that go?” she asked, stifling a little laughter. I joined her and shook my head.
“Not well,” I said. “Not my thing.”
“So you came to some of the shows?”
“I did,” I admitted.
“I had no idea,” she said. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
My smile faltered. I wanted to come up with some excuse, something that would make it okay that I didn’t try to track her down and talk to her like I saw so many others do after plays. But I had nothing.
“I really don’t know,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them,” she said. “My girls are going to kill me if I don’t get back to the table, though.”
I looked over my shoulder and saw who she was talking about. They looked familiar, but again, not in a way that I thought I would have any reason to know their names.
“Right,” I said. “Well, happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” she said, walking past me. “Are you going to sing?”
“Depends on how many drinks I get in me,” I laughed. “I don’t think they have enough liquor in the building, though.”
“Shame,” she said. “I would have liked to have seen that.”
With that, she turned her back and continued on to her table. As she sat down, I noticed her briefly look my way, almost as if to see if I was still looking at her, then she launched into a giggling conversation with her two friends.
