by Zeia Jameson
“You better watch out,” I say with a smile. “You are going to wear it out.”
I say this, jokingly, considering we stayed up for many hours last night after we got home, stripped naked, and I was able to get her to say I love you about fifteen to twenty more times.
“I doubt that,” she says and kisses me again. I lean into her a little, suggesting perhaps a little morning delight before we get up to open our gifts.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“A little after nine.”
Livy pushes me away and rolls out of bed. She stands, nude.
For the love of God, how did I get so lucky?
She throws on a t-shirt and runs out into the living room yelling, “It’s time to open your gift!”
I fall flat, face down onto the bed.
Shot down.
I get up and lazily put on my pajama pants and head into the living room.
Livy is sitting by the tree on the floor with her legs tucked under her knees. I can’t believe she’s sitting there in nothing but a long t-shirt. In her lap is a small, white envelope. She pats the floor in front of me, “Come here! Sit!” I obey and sit on the floor in front of her. She picks up the envelope, leans in for a kiss and then passes the envelope to me. “Merry Christmas!”
I look down at the envelope and flip it over a few times. The flat, unsealed side has my name on it. “I don’t have very high expectations about this,” I joke.
“Oh, just open it already!” she says blithely.
“Impatient much?” I ask her.
Her eyes give me the middle finger and tell me to knock off the shenanigans and open it.
So, I tear in.
I pull out a slip of thick, glossy paper and take a moment to read.
Holy shit. No fucking way!
“Livy! This is...how? I didn’t even know this was a thing.”
“That’s what she said,” is her reply.
“Seriously? A tour of the ESPN news room? And lunch with the anchors? I cannot believe this! This is the best gift ever. How did you even know that this was possible?”
“Well, I remember at Thanksgiving how you and Mike were talking about how cool it would be to go there. So, I used this magic tool called Google to see if I could make it happen. And it turns out, I could.”
I lean over to hug her. And then I pull her over into my lap and kiss her. “Thank you. So much. This is really pretty amazing.”
“That’s what she said.”
I laugh, “That’s a bit inappropriate for Christmas morning, don’t you think?” I tease.
She snickers, “That’s what she said!” and continues to laugh.
“That one didn’t even make sense” and before she can continue her silly that’s what she said loop, I kiss her again.
She pulls back, “I don’t know if you noticed but that tour is for two. I mean, I know you would probably want to take Mike considering your conversation and all...”
“Fuck Mike. I’m taking you. If it weren’t for ESPN, we might not be with each other right now. I wouldn’t dream of taking anyone else.”
“Yay!” she exclaims while making little baby claps with her fingertips.
“So, you really think if I hadn’t told you that I like to watch ESPN, you wouldn’t have made that first move that night?” she asks, smiling.
“Well...you know, I was on the fence. Is Livy cool enough?” I say with my hand in the air, flat out, tipping it back and forth as if weighing the thought.
She taps me on the chest with the back of her hand. “Shut the fuck up. You are so full of shit,” she laughs. She clasps her hands together, tilts her head to the side and bats her eyes with much exaggeration “I had you at hellooo…” she says in a high pitch, melodic voice.
I chuckle. “Actually, I think the words were what can I do you for?”
She smiles and her eyes sparkle. “I love you,” she says and darts in for a quick peck on the lips.
“I love you too.” I smile back “Now. Time for your gift.” I peek under the tree and grab a small box I hid in the branches a few days ago.
I present the box to Livy and her eyes go wide. Very wide. “First of all, you already gave me my gift last night with what you organized at the shelter. That was way more than enough.” She points at the box, her eyes still wide, “Second of all, what the fuck is that?”
“Livy. Just open the box.”
She looks at me. Then the box. Then back at me. She shakes her head no.
She’s starting to freak out which was not my intention at all. I push my hand out to her further.
“Livy, just open the box.”
***
14
Livy
New Year’s Eve
“Livy, just open the box.”
No. I know what’s in it. It’s a black felt box. One with a little hinge on the back so it snaps open and shut. A jewelry box. A ring box.
A. Fucking. Ring. Box.
I shake my head no. I can’t. I can’t.
He’s going to ask me a question and I’m going to have to say no. And then it’ll be over. No more Jeremy and Livy.
“Livy, come on. Don’t be afraid.”
I continue to shake my head no.
Jeremy rolls his eyes at me. “Holy cow. I really didn’t think you would react this way.”
I’ve told him I don’t want to get married. How did he not think I would react this way? And what about what his mother said at Thanksgiving after dinner? About him not doing this unless he was sure and we were basically molded together and inseparable? We have barely lived together. We are not at that point that his mother explained. Does he think we are? Maybe he does and maybe I’m just never going to have that feeling because of my conviction and lack of need to get married.
Is it because I said I loved him?
I do love him.
Jeremy places his free hand on top of the box and begins opening it. It literally creeks as he slowly opens it. Soooo…slowly. I’m frozen. Time is frozen. The whole world is frozen with the exception of Jeremy’s hand opening the box. I want to protest and snatch the box from his hand and throw it out of the window or flush it down the toilet. But I’m frozen and everything is happening in high-speed-camera-slow-motion.
The box finally pops completely open.
In it lies a small
Shiny
Silver
Metal
Paperclip.
I take a moment to register this. It’s a paperclip. Not a ring. A paperclip.
“A paperclip?” I ask. I just had an anxiety attack over a fucking paperclip? Jeremy was fucking with me. If it weren’t for that damn adorable smile on his face, I might have gotten angry. Instead, I internalize my panic and annoyance and focus on the fact that it was a good joke and he made a comical point regarding the reference I had made weeks earlier about the paperclip. Besides, I couldn’t be mad at him on Christmas day.
“You were pretty adamant about getting a paperclip,” he says. “You ask. I deliver. Merry Christmas.” Jeremy smiles and leans in to kiss me on the side of my face.
I try to keep the mood light and not let on that my heart was still at a rapid pace because I thought thirty seconds ago there was a ring in that box. I smile and layer my words with thick, sultry sarcasm. “Wow. It’s perfect.”
Jeremy chuckles and returns, “That’s what she said.” I let out a genuine laugh. I love how absolutely perfectly juvenile we both are. Pranks and dick jokes all before breakfast on Christmas morning.
~~~
Jeremy has planned quite the evening for New Year’s Eve. It was a dress and heels kind of event. I anticipate our festivities will carry on well into January 1st of the next year.
We began with dinner downtown at a sushi restaurant of all places—a revolving sushi restaurant at the top of a hotel with a fantastic view of the city. What says fun more than raw fish and spinning thirty stories up in the air, right?
I’d never had sushi before, b
ut I figured what the heck, I’d end the year with a bang and be adventurous. As it turns out, I’m in love with spicy tuna and any other roll as long as it’s drizzled with wasabi vinaigrette. That shit is amazing! I’m going to have to figure that recipe out. I’d eat that with cardboard!
I wasn’t too keen on the Sake, though. However, it did pack quite a punch. One tiny, warm cup was plenty for me.
After dinner, the plan was to head to another floor of the hotel where they opened up a ball room for a New Year’s Eve party. There was supposed to be a swing band playing. Neither Jeremy nor I can swing dance, but we thought it would be fun to try. These heels might give me a fit, but we’ll see.
Adventurous…
Before we head down to phase two of the evening, I feel the need to get something off my chest. Something that’s been nagging me since Christmas morning. Something I’ve thought about no less than fifty million times in the week that has passed.
I grab Jeremy’s hand across the table. “Jeremy, I’m sorry about the way I acted when you gave me the paperclip. I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have just assumed that you would...propose.” That last word was very difficult to spit out. “I should have...trusted you more. I mean. I do trust you. I guess...I don’t know...red flags and sirens went off in my head screaming danger Will Robinson and I didn’t get a chance to think clearly.”
Jeremy squeezes my hand and smiles. “Danger Will Robinson? That’s what your brains says when you get freaked out?”
I nod.
“Well shit,” Jeremy laughs, “I don’t blame you then. I’d freak out too if my head screamed that. Is it like in the robot voice and everything?”
I giggle, “Yes it is, as a matter of fact. But, Jeremy, I’m serious. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok, Livy. Really, don’t worry about it. I have a confession. I put the paperclip in the ring box on purpose. I just wanted to see your face. It was supposed to be a joke, but I guess I just didn’t think it through. I’m the asshole. I’m sorry too.”
“Well I’m glad we cleared the air on that,” I say.
“Me too.”
We squeeze hands again.
I wonder if my reaction to the joke proposal scared him off enough to never actually propose. I hope so.
Don’t I?
Wait, what? Where did that thought come from? How did those two tiny little words pop into my head? Before I can assess, Jeremy says, “So. Ready to head downstairs and dance like idiots?”
I smile and nod. I’ll worry about those two tiny little words later. Right now, it is time for fun. “Absolutely.”
~~~
And we did dance like idiots. Right up until midnight. I had to take my shoes off to keep dancing, but I promised Jeremy I’d put them back on later. We toasted with champagne and kissed when the countdown reached zero. Jeremy lifted me up and spun me around. We were having the time of our lives.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I reply.
We had survived our first holiday trifecta together. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s Eve. And I have to say, hands down, that it was the best holiday trifecta I’d ever had.
Jeremy makes everything better.
I could do this forever.
I could do this forever.
Forever.
We’ve had quite the mixture of champagne, tequila shots and beer. The onslaught of booze to my brain is making me contemplate thoughts of forever. Can forever really exist with one person? Happily ever after? Sure, there are couples out there who have been married to each other for fifty, fifty-five, sixty years. But are they happy? Is it really possible? And on top of all of these thoughts, I’m wondering why the fuck am I thinking these thoughts at all?
Jeremy pulls a key card out if his wallet. “Ready to take this party to our suite?” He slurs a little.
The final phase of the evening was to take place in a luxurious suite that Jeremy had reserved. A fun filled evening of dinner, dancing and…other extracurricular activities, all wrapped up in one location. It was a brilliant idea. One that Jeremy had come up with and executed masterfully.
I turn up my champagne glass and empty it. “Yep. Very ready. Let’s go,” I slur a little too, in return.
We head to the room, drunk on champagne and maybe even love. We can’t keep our hands off of each other in the elevator. We stumble and giggle down the hall until we reach our door. Jeremy slides the key and opens the door.
“Ladies first,” he says, holding the door open and motioning for me to enter ahead of him.
I walk in and instantly head to the bedroom, hoping Jeremy is following close behind. I walk in the bedroom and my eyes immediately focus on the center of the bed.
“What the fuck is all this?” I turn to ask Jeremy. He smiles. “Thought we could have a little kinky start to the first day of the year.”
I turn back to take stock of the items on the bed. Handcuffs. An assortment of sex toys. Oils, for his and her pleasure. A bottle of chocolate syrup and a bowl of red, luscious strawberries. And a silver tray with two crystal flutes and a bucket filled with ice and chilled champagne.
“Thought we could maybe start with the champagne.” He’s right behind me now. He moves my hair away from my neck and kisses the back of it.
“You are a dirty, dirty boy, Jeremy.”
I tilt my head to the side and he begins unzipping my dress.
“Will you leave the heels on?” he asks.
“Whatever you want.” I bring my arm up and wrap it around the side of his face and grab his hair. His lips on my neck always make me shudder. My heartbeat quickens.
I am so very ready to be delightfully tortured.
Cheers and Happy New Year to me. Here’s to being adventurous.
***
15
Jeremy
Four months later
One year anniversary
Livy is the love of my life.
One year ago today, I stumbled into a bar and met the love of my life.
We’ve been living together for nearly half a year, now. It’s been an interesting adjustment. When Livy said she needed her own space, she wasn’t joking. A few times, she’s gotten pissed off for what seems to be no reason whatsoever. The first time, I tried to confront her about it while she was still angry. And that, I quickly learned, was a terrible idea. Now, I know that when she seems frazzled or overwhelmed about something, I should not say a word to her until she is calm and regrouped. Generally, she’ll retreat to her book room until aforementioned regrouping has commenced. Then, when she’s ready, she’ll tell me why she was upset. If I deviate from that pattern, it just prolongs her anger and I get an earful of a few colorful words.
We’ve also argued about mundane things. Dirty dishes. Control of the remote. Sharing a bathroom.
Speaking of bathrooms, I have to admit, sharing one with Livy is quite nice, when we aren’t arguing over the lack of space there is for two people to be in there simultaneously. It’s nice because it always smells like peaches and since I met Livy, that is my most favorite smell.
The other great thing about sharing a bathroom is Livy’s singing. She sings in the shower. The first time I caught her singing in the shower, I stood outside the door for nearly twenty minutes listening. She has a great, low raspy voice which was befitting to the song she was singing. She was singing the Janis Joplin song about Bobby McGee. She sang it two or three times while I stood outside the door listening. I knew this song from when my mother listened to it when I was a child. Livy knew every word and sang it just like Janis. It was beautiful and sexy as hell. Shortly after witnessing that encounter, I downloaded that song onto my iPod and played it one night while we were sitting on our living room floor playing cards around the coffee table. She smiled when the first few notes played through the speakers. She looked up at me from her hand of cards and asked, “How do you know this song?”
I shrugged my shoulders and smiled back. “Something my mother used to lis
ten to.”
“Is that right?” she replied accusingly.
“Mmmmhmmm,” is all I offered.
After a few verses played, “How do you know this song?” I asked.
“People used to play it on the jukebox at the bar all of the time. Her voice is so unique. Joe got me one of her CDs for Christmas one year after he said he’d seen me singing one of her songs while cleaning the bar one night.”
“So you sing her songs?”
She gave me an intense look. I wasn’t fooling her one bit, but then again, I wasn’t trying very hard to fool her. “I think we both know the answer to that question,” she said.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
“I know.” She smiled.
“Will you sing for me?”
“Right now?”
I nodded.
She gave me a half smile without looking up from her cards. “Sure.”
I reached over to my iPod and hit the back button so that the song could start from the beginning. She sang and we continued to play cards. I played the song twice before she threw down her cards and climbed over the coffee table and straddled my lap, running her fingers through my hair and kissing me until I didn’t think I could breathe anymore.
And so began the tradition of me eavesdropping in on her shower singing and me downloading the song to have her sing it for me. Her voice turned me on and for her, watching me watching her sing turned her on. I never interrupted her shower singing sessions, although I certainly wanted to. But it was a game. A fun game. A game that always ended with sex and that was a win for all parties involved.
All in all, I love living with Livy. I love waking up to her peachy scent every morning. And being able to have breakfast with her before I go to work. I love falling asleep on the sofa with her in the middle of a movie. All of these things, essentially we did before she moved in but now it just seems more official or permanent. I don’t want anything to change. I can’t imagine not living with Livy or not being in a relationship with Livy. She is the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, the beat of my heart. I was made for Livy and she was made for me. And all of that other Shakespearean stuff that we learned about in high school. Those words exist because they are true. You hear the cheesy, chestnut, antiquated proclamations of love like that and you think that no one person can feel that way about another human being. But, in fact, they can. It’s how I feel about Livy.
