Love & Lies: Marisol's Story (16 page)

“Here’s the bottom line,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact between spoonfuls of mulligatawny soup. “I’m dating Olivia. At least, I went to dinner with her this week and . . . things progressed.” I pulled the amber pendant out from beneath my T-shirt. “She bought me this,” I said, hoping the gift would reveal what I couldn’t.

Gio stopped eating and stared, first at the pendant, then into my eyes.

“And she knows I know you,” I blundered on, “and for some reason she’s kind of . . . jealous or something. So, I didn’t want her to see us leaving together.”

He shook his head as if to get the information to line up straight. “So, when Diana and I ran into you at the Arts Festival—you were
with
her, weren’t you?”

I nodded.

“I wondered at first if that’s what was going on, but I convinced myself it wasn’t, that you’d just bumped into her like we did.”

“She doesn’t want anyone to know; she wouldn’t be happy if she knew I was telling you.”

“Huh,” he grunted, still staring at me as if trying to take in the changes. “She doesn’t seem like your type.”

The comment startled me and I laughed. “How the hell do you know what my type is? You thought
you
were my type.” His eyes darkened and he glared at me. Okay, sometimes I am a tactless bitch.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be mean,” I said.

“I guess it just comes naturally to you,” he countered.

I sighed. “Mea culpa! I’m assuming you thought she wasn’t
my type because she’s so gorgeous and I’m so . . . not.”

Gio tried hard to keep his scowl working. “I hope you aren’t fishing for compliments, Marisol, because you’ve really gotten me out of the mood for them.”

I played with my soup, not looking at him. “Of course I’m not.”

“I mean, I did once declare my love for you—idiot that I am—so presumably I find you relatively attractive.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I thought it was a good thing that he could talk about it like that, without freaking out or anything, but jeez, it was freaking
me
out a little.

“All I’m saying is, you don’t do yourself up like her, with the high fashion and the hairdo and everything. You’re a more interesting person, and, frankly, a deeper person than she is. At least, I think so.”

“Deeper? Are you kidding? Olivia is so smart—she knows so much—”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t smart. I just think, I don’t know, for all her confidence and big education and everything, she isn’t somebody I’d like to sit and have a conversation with.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “She seems so competitive. Like she’d have to
win
the conversation.”

I was slightly dumbfounded. “That’s not true.” I went back to my soup and slurped up a few more spoonfuls before asking, “So, you don’t like her?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m not being fair. Maybe I’m still stung by what she said about my piece today.”

Of course he was! I’d meant to talk to him about that.
“Your piece was good—it really was. I don’t know what Olivia was thinking, being so hard on you. Maybe because you
are
a good writer, she wanted to challenge you or something.”

He smirked. “And she didn’t want to challenge
you
, the ‘brilliant’ one?”

I put my hands over my face. “I know, I know. That was so embarrassing.”

“Well, at least now I get it. I mean, you know I always liked your writing, but Lord, she acted like the rest of us should just step back and hand you the Nobel Prize.”

“Oh, so now you figure she only complimented me because we’re seeing each other?” Not that the thought hadn’t occurred to me, too.

“Well, maybe it isn’t the
only
reason.” Gio’s eyes lit up. “Wait a minute . . . is that why she was so hard on me? She thinks there’s something going on between us, and she wanted to humiliate me!”

“Oh, no, Gio, I don’t think so. Olivia wouldn’t do that!”

“You sure?”

I had to admit Olivia seemed to have a temper when she got upset—I’d just glimpsed it for the first time myself. I thought it over for a minute and decided to come clean with Gio about everything.

“To tell you the truth, Olivia is pissed off at me, too, right now. I told her I wasn’t coming to class next Saturday, and she freaked out.”

“How come you won’t be there?”

“Because I’m going to Provincetown.”

“You are? Because I’m going?”

“Boy, your confidence bounced right back, didn’t it?
No
, I was planning to go before I knew you were going. I wasn’t going to tell you at first, but what the hell? We’d probably run into each other in Butterfield’s anyway.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “I guess you were afraid I’d weep and moan and rend my garments.”

“I never know what you’re going to do, Gio. And I wanted a fun weekend, not a drama festival.”

Gio stared out the window as the waiter cleared the table. I ordered some coffee, but Gio declined with a shake of his head. Finally he turned back to me.

“I think I’m over you,” he said. “The funny thing is, I’m not that happy about it. I mean, I want to move on and everything, but it was exciting to be with you. I know, I wasn’t actually
with
you, but still, we had a good time.”

I didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever announced it to me like that before:
I’m over you.
And the funny thing was, I wasn’t that happy about it either, even though it was totally what I’d been hoping for. I mean, I certainly didn’t want Gio to be mooning after me forever, but I guess the idea that he loved me wasn’t all that abhorrent to me after all. It doesn’t happen all that often that somebody tells you they love you. I guess you shouldn’t take it for granted, even if you don’t feel the same way about them.

“We can still have some good times, can’t we? I mean, if you’re
over
me, couldn’t we just be friends? Or, are you so over me you can’t stand the sight of me?”

He smiled. “No, I’m not
that
over you.”

“So, what’s the deal with Diana? That going okay?”

“Yeah, it is, actually.”

I nodded. “Good. I like her. I mean, she’s awfully
nice
, but then you’re probably in the mood for somebody who’s not a bitch this time around, huh?”

“It’s a pleasant change. So, what’s the deal on you going to P’town? Who are you going with?”

“Birdie and his new boyfriend, Damon.” I rolled my eyes. “Damon drives me nuts, but since it was Birdie’s mother who got us a free place to stay, I couldn’t very well object. And this new friend of mine, Lee, is also going. She just came out to her family and moved here from the Midwest. She’s having kind of a hard time, and I thought a weekend in P’town would cheer her up.”

“
That’s
why Olivia got mad—you’re going with another woman!”

“I didn’t even tell her that. She thought I was going with
you
.”

“Oh, great! And when I don’t show up for class either, she’ll be sure of it. She’ll never have a good word to say about anything I write again!”

God, she
would
think that. I’d have to buy her something in Provincetown, something to prove I was thinking of her. Or maybe I’d call her. She’d be mad, but I could fix it. Couldn’t I?

“Hey, you know what?” Gio said. “We
could
all go down together. My dad’s letting me drive his second car down because he’s obviously thrilled that I’m seeing a woman who isn’t a lesbian for a change. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, because it’s a big old gas-guzzler, but if there were five of us going it
would still be a lot cheaper than taking the bus or the boat.”

“Huh. It’s an idea. You did hear the part about how Birdie is going?”

“Yeah. I was trying to ignore that.”

“Birdie in the car for three hours is impossible to ignore.”

“Noted.”

“And Damon is more or less an imbecile, but that can be comic relief. I think you’d like Lee. She’s quiet,” I said, then laughed, “but deep.”

“As deep as you?”

“Deeper. It’s possible she’s the Grand Canyon of deepness.”

“Well, hey, I’m in. As you know, deep lesbians are my thing.”

We laughed too loud and the waiters turned to stare at us as we high-fived. Two geeky friends.

I
’D CALLED
O
LIVIA SEVERAL TIMES
early in the week and left messages for her, but she didn’t call back until Wednesday morning. She still sounded slightly aggravated, but we made plans to meet for a working lunch at Café Algiers.

I arrived before she did and set up my laptop. I intended to do the assignment as a scene between Christina and Natalie in which they disagree about something. Not so hard to imagine that at the moment. But what did they disagree about? I didn’t want to mirror the truth too closely, because Olivia would obviously read it. I made a couple of false starts and had just come up with an idea I liked when Olivia appeared.

“I’m late, I know,” she said. “Traffic was miserable.”

“It’s okay.”

She nodded toward my computer. “I see you haven’t missed me—you’re typing away as usual.”

“I thought you said we’d have a working lunch? Didn’t you bring your laptop?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did. You said we’d work for an hour or so and then eat.”

She drummed her ringed fingers on the tabletop. “These tables are too small to work at. Besides, I can’t wait an hour to eat—I’m starving. We can go back to my apartment after lunch and work there. Doesn’t that sound better?”

The mere mention of her apartment started my heart beating faster. Olivia’s small studio held only a desk, a chair, and a bed. How likely was it that I’d get any work done in an environment that was permanently linked in my mind with sex? Of course, now that the notion of sex with Olivia was lodged in my mind, I started caring a lot less about working on my novel. I closed my laptop and we ordered lunch.

Once the food and coffee arrived, Olivia relaxed, and we talked and joked as we had the week before. By the time our order of baklava arrived, Olivia had hooked one of her legs around one of mine and was leaning across the table conspiratorially.

“How about we take the afternoon off and play?” she said. “You’ve already done some writing today, and I can afford a little vacation.”

“Would this be a vacation in your apartment?” I asked.

“Well, we can’t very well go to your apartment, can we? Between the dog and the dust, I’d have to be hospitalized.”

My excitement was just slightly tempered by disappointment. Not that I didn’t want to spend the afternoon “playing” at Olivia’s—God, who wouldn’t? It was just that work time with her was valuable to me too. I’d been looking forward to the work, the talking about the work, and
then
the playing. That was my idea of the perfect day.

But all it took was thirty seconds of Olivia staring into
my eyeballs to banish all thoughts of literary accomplishment. She left twenty dollars on the table, took my hand, and led me where she wanted me to go. Who could say no to Olivia?

She kissed me in the car, and on the stairs, and as she unlocked the apartment door. I was already lightheaded by then, but still managed to unbutton her blouse and hold her breasts in my hands so I could take a long look at them in the light of day. Flawless, just like everything else about her. Her breath quickened as I stroked them, and she said, “Oh, God, you do have the touch.”

We made love more slowly than the first time, more luxuriously. Somehow it was even more exciting than the time before. I was beginning to know what excited her, and what excited me, too. And we were delighted to take each other to those places.

“You’re a fast learner,” Olivia said afterward, kissing my neck.

“You’re a good teacher.” That, however, must not have been the proper response: Olivia sat up in bed and looked at me.

“You haven’t told anyone about this, have you?” she asked. “You aren’t bragging about sleeping with the teacher, are you?”

“No!” I said, and then amended it. “Well, I did tell Birdie, but he doesn’t know anybody to tell.”

“Well, don’t talk about it to anyone else, okay? I don’t want to lose my job.”

“I won’t,” I promised her, just before remembering that
I’d also told Gio. I’d be sure to tell him not to mention it to anyone.

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” I said, almost whispering the words.

Olivia smiled. “You’re sweet. But you know, I’ve heard that before.”

I felt like she’d smacked me. “Well, maybe those people
before
didn’t love you!” The words were out before I’d thought through what I was saying.

“And you do?” she asked, as if she were only mildly curious.

I sat up too and pulled the blanket up around myself. “I . . . I don’t know. Maybe I do.”

She leaned over and kissed me gently. “Maybe you do. You’re a sweet girl.” She got out of bed, and I watched her perfectly shaped body walk away from me. “I need to take a shower. I have a dinner to go to later.”

“Who are you going to dinner with?” I sounded like a petulant child even to myself.

“Just some colleagues,” she said. “It’s a Harvard thing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” I said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

I sat in the bed another minute, a blanket pulled up around me, paralyzed, listening to the shower come on. Why had I said that about
loving
her? The words had just flown out of my throat! God, she kept calling me “sweet” like I was some twelve-year-old girl with a crush! And what she
hadn’t
said was worse than what she had.

Finally I got up and dressed, yanking the zipper on my
jeans so hard that it went off the track. It was as if I’d lost control of everything.

The shower was still running as I paced around the apartment, humiliated by my own impulsiveness. Which was when I noticed that Olivia’s computer was on, its screensaver blinking a series of photographs across the screen. I pulled up the desk chair to look at them.