Going the Distance (12 page)

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a cab was about seven miles long, but moved quickly. When Olivia touched down at Pudong airport, she’d been greeted by an American representative for the chain of schools, handed a few pamphlets about China and the company, escorted to the train station, and promptly abandoned. It had been dark and cold, and apart from the bright lights, it had been impossible to get a feel for Shanghai, other than that it was big and very densely populated.

That initial impression had been a massive understatement. Just looking around the swarming throng coming and going from the train station, she was pretty sure she’d seen more people today than she had in her whole life. It was eleven thirty in the morning on a sunny spring day, and the entire vicinity of the train station was one giant, writhing mass of bodies. Marcus gripped her fingers and tugged her along the line of people waiting for taxis so they wouldn’t get separated, and she felt both relief and guilt at the comfort of his firm grip.

She’d run into Marcus—the geologist or geographer, she was incapable of remembering which, it seemed—when she’d headed out to buy her train ticket two nights ago. When he’d heard of her plans he’d invited himself along, and Olivia had accepted.

She’d been disappointed when Jarek turned her down, but some part of her knew it was for the best. She’d grown up in a bubble and when that bubble burst, she’d been smacked in the face with the fact that she didn’t know how to be on her own. She’d lived with her parents, then in dorms at college, and then she’d moved in with Chris. Part of the motivation for coming to China was to escape the never-ending vitriol that awaited her in Candor; the other part had been to learn how to be alone—and survive.

And she’d struggled mightily. It was too different here. It had been too dark and too cold and too lonely. And then she’d met Jarek, and she’d let him make her brave. He led her through the city, explored new streets and strange shops, a shield against anything that made her uncertain. She’d invited him to Shanghai because she liked him, not because she wanted him to guide her, but when he’d declined she admitted there was an upside to the rejection: for once she’d be forced to do something on her own. Except now she wasn’t, and she was really grateful. Coming to Shanghai alone on your first-ever solo excursion was like deciding to learn to swim by jumping out of an airplane into the sea—beyond dumb. She’d brought Marcus along as a parachute or a life vest or whatever would best fit the analogy.

They climbed into a cab and asked to be taken to an area called Shanghai Old Town, according to the web site she’d studied. Marcus had never been to Shanghai, either, and was eager to explore. They’d hit it off at the bar the other night, and had talked non-stop on the two-hour train ride from Lazhou. He was different from Jarek in every way: outgoing, big easy smile, shamelessly flirtatious. He was just an inch or two taller than her, with the broad build of a rugby player, and while it had been jarring to suddenly have someone so open and willing to talk to her, it was nice. Marcus was fun and easy. Jarek was fun in his own way, but nothing about the man was easy.

“Okay,” the driver said, pulling up alongside a bustling sidewalk. Olivia peered around at the long string of old-looking buildings, ornate wooden trim and red lanterns everywhere. It was beautiful and traditional, spliced with very modern neon signs and familiar fast food logos.

They paid and exited the cab as people hurried to clamber in, grinning at one another as they set out to explore. They hit every place on the list, touring the busy marketplace and buying souvenirs, stopping at a famed shop with a cardboard cutout of Bill Clinton, who had eaten there on one of his visits. In the middle of the hectic city they found a classical Chinese garden, a hidden sanctuary with still water and stone bridges, beautiful pagodas and buildings filled with artwork and ancient furniture and pottery.

More than once Marcus touched her back or her hand to get her attention, laughing every time she tried to take a picture and someone strolled in front of the camera, which was every time. She found some familiar Western stores that carried clothing in her size and bought a few new things, then they got on the subway—the first subway she’d ever been on, she admitted, feeling like a rube—and got off near an outdoor market much less refined than the first.

It was jam-packed with vendors selling all manner of things, toys and clothing and, of course, DVDs. There were knock-off watches, purses, and jewelry, some better than others, and Marcus made her laugh when he asked if he should get the Gucki belt or the Wersace.

Olivia spent a lot of time on her feet on a regular basis, but by the time they collapsed in their seats on the train at ten o’clock that night, she was exhausted and her toes hurt. They had bags of souvenirs and tons of photos, but she was a little relieved to be going home. The sheer size and volume of the city was mentally and physically draining. Having grown up in a small town, the brief experience had been awe-inspiring and jaw-dropping, but more than a little overwhelming.

“Favorite part?” Marcus asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hmm?” She turned to look at him, his handsome face way too close in the crowded seats. They’d been unable to get spots in the nicer car with plush, comfortable chairs, and now sat on hard blue seats with worn foam cushions. They were the only foreigners in the car and garnered more than a few stares. Olivia was used to blocking them out, but every now and then she’d catch Marcus looking perturbed.

“What was your favorite part?” he repeated.

“Oh. Um…” She strummed her fingers on her denim-clad thigh as she pondered the question, unable to stop the sudden rush of heat that pulsed through her when she remembered how she’d asked Jarek something very similar after watching
Love, Actually
. And the very vivid memories of what had happened next. “My favorite part,” she echoed, mind racing. “The garden, maybe? I’m not sure how
feng shui
works, exactly, but it was amazing how peaceful it felt.”

“Agreed.” Marcus nodded. “Definitely beautiful.”

“Or maybe the stall at the market selling the silk paintings.” They were “paintings” done in tiny silk stitches depicting various scenes of day-to-day life in China. After some bartering, Olivia had managed to walk away with two. “Ooh, or the guy selling the Tony Hilfiger shirts.” When she’d stopped to browse he’d quickly pounced, assuring Olivia her “husband” would love the clothing made by the “very famous designer” himself.

“Tony Hilfiger…” Marcus mused. “I’m going to wow all the ladies with my fashion sense.” He’d bought one of the shirts just for laughs, and to help get the guy off Olivia’s back.

“Yep,” she agreed. “Paired with your Gucki belt, you’ll be the talk of the town.”

“Who’s the watch for, Jarek?” Marcus inquired after a moment. Olivia glanced down at the bag holding a black box with a silver men’s watch “guaranteed” to be a real Rolex. Not for a second did she think it was, but her dad wouldn’t care. He was forever taking off his watches to distract kids with the ticking sounds, and somehow losing them.

“My father,” she replied. “He can’t seem to keep one for more than a few months.” She’d gotten her mother a tiny vase painted with red flowers. There had been so many interesting and lovely items—fans, silk purses, tiny stamps. But she had no other friends to shop for.

“I see.” A pause. “Did you get Jarek anything?”

Olivia glanced over at Marcus. “A shirt.”

He returned the stare, pale eyes steady on hers. “Are you two serious?”

She shrugged, uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Not really.”

“So, not exclusive?”

She forced a smile. “You’re leaving in three days, right?” The rest of his group had left the night before, but Marcus had been asked to stay longer to help survey another piece of property for the builder.

“Yep. Three…whole…days.” He looked at her so innocently she laughed, and then so did he.

“I’m seeing someone,” she said. She hated that even she could hear the tiny note of doubt in her voice; she’d never felt that way with Chris. She’d grown up surrounded by so much support and praise that she’d never experienced any real uncertainty in her life, until Jarek. Did he like her? Did she like him?

“Does he know I came with you today?”

Olivia swallowed. “No. We don’t run everything by each other.” Plus he’d canceled their plans for the day before, texting her for the first time ever.
Can’t make it tonight
, was all he’d said. He’d offered no explanation and she hadn’t asked for one. Jarek was her closest friend in town and she didn’t want to push, even if she had been disappointed. Instead she’d watched a movie and gone to bed early, telling herself she’d need her energy for today anyway, and it was best he hadn’t come.

“So,” Marcus said. “What does he do when you’re not around?”

Olivia folded her arms and turned to look out the window at the dark landscape rolling past. She had no idea what Jarek did when they weren’t together. He’d begun opening up a little bit about his life, but the things he told her were mostly just broad strokes that left gaping holes that begged to be filled in, and she’d made the decision to accept it. He hadn’t pressed her about her secrets, and fair was fair, even when it wasn’t.

The next day was a drizzly, dreary mess. Olivia was cramped and achy from the long day in Shanghai, and a hot shower had minimal impact on her sore muscles. She watched a movie and got some groceries, then came home and tried to work on the “script” for
Little Red Riding Hood
, which was not going well. Davy had volunteered his services as both a butterfly and a painter, Rose had insisted she be the one to cue the music—music that didn’t actually exist yet, but Olivia hadn’t told her that—and the four Spidermans were still wearing their costumes each day in an effort to appear better and more dedicated than the others. If she wasn’t mistaken, her classroom had an increased number of people walking past the window and peering inside, wondering what the hell she was doing. She had been teaching kindergarten for four years now, and often asked herself the same thing.

At five o’clock she put on her gym clothes, tossed a towel and some water in her bag, and walked down to the Brant Construction site. She hadn’t used the gym in weeks since she’d been running outside with Jarek, and while she now felt comfortable enough in Lazhou to run alone, she’d avoid the rain if she could help it.

There was a young man in a rain coat watching the entrance to the site. He recognized Olivia and waved her inside, otherwise the place appeared deserted. The doors to the other trailers were closed, and no lights blazed inside. She glanced in the direction of the apartment building that housed the workers, but its gleaming façade told her nothing.

The gym trailer was predictably empty, so she switched on the lights, turned up the volume on her mp3 player, and climbed on the treadmill. She was just passing mile three of five when the door opened and Dale entered. Their eyes met in the mirror and they exchanged hellos. Dale didn’t unnerve her so much as he irritated her; after they met he’d spent the first week hitting on her, then appeared mildly disdainful each time after that. She was aware of his occasional glances her way, the way his eyes rarely lifted from her chest, and she wished she’d worn a baggy T-shirt instead of the fitted black tank top and capris.

He was doing bench presses when she climbed off the treadmill and toweled off. After yesterday’s excursion and today’s run, she had to stretch, even if it meant moving to the middle of the trailer, closer to Dale. She sat down on a mat and reached forward to grip her toes.

“How’re things?” he asked casually.

“Good,” she replied. “Busy. The kids are a handful.”

“I bet.”

“How old are yours again?” She didn’t know why she felt the urge to make polite small talk with him; blame her decent upbringing.

“Five and seven,” he answered. “Boy and girl.”

“Those are fun ages.”

“Yep.” He grunted as he pushed the loaded bar over his head, lowered it one last time, then returned it to the bench. “How about otherwise?” he asked, getting to the point. “How’s Jarek?”

Olivia switched legs and avoided his stare. “I assume he’s fine. You see him more than I do.”

“You see him today?”

“No. Why?”

Dale chugged half a bottle of something brown and chunky, likely a protein shake. He was big but not defined; she wasn’t sure the stuff was having its desired effect. “No reason.”

He moved away to do leg presses, and Olivia let out breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, biting her lip as tight muscles continued to loosen.

A few minutes passed before Dale spoke again. “He doesn’t have much to say about you.”

She didn’t look up. “So?”

“So if he was into you, he’d say so, right? Mention you now and then?”

What was it with guys she barely knew prying into her relationship—for lack of a better term—with Jarek? “You’re the relationship expert. You tell me. Or don’t.”

He snorted. “I’m just saying. If I fuck someone, it’s not a secret.”

“Just from your wife, right?”

He shot her a dirty look. “I don’t bag chicks I’m ashamed of.”

Olivia stood and put the mat away. “This has been fun, Dale.”

He might have said more, but the twist of the doorknob interrupted. They both looked up as Jarek pushed open the door and stepped through. The first thing Olivia noticed was that he wasn’t dressed to work out. He wore dark jeans and a black waterproof jacket with the hood up, rain water sluicing down the shiny fabric. He nodded at Dale, then turned to her, face impassive, though his eyes blazed with something she didn’t recognize. For a second she wondered if he’d heard Dale’s comments and had come to defend her, but then all he said was “hey,” and her hope deflated.

“Hey.” She jammed the damp towel into her bag and slipped into her coat.

Jarek looked at Dale. “How long do you think you’ll be?”