Love On-Line

by Lisa Tuttle

  Yours impatiently, Or

  While Orson was searching Illyria and other parts of the Net for Roberto, Rose was actually at the local shopping mall with Olivia. Although Olivia had expressed contempt for the universal teenage habit of hanging out at the mall, somehow, that Friday evening, after they’d tried on shoes in three different shops, tested perfumes and looked at the sales racks, they ended up wandering idly, people-watching and pausing to chat when they saw anyone Olivia knew. They went to the food court for frozen strawberry-lemonades, and as they took their seats Rose realized they’d chosen a table immediately next to Jennifer Banks and Bethany Spretnak. Feeling uncomfortable, Rose said hello.

  Suddenly they were surrounded by the rumbling clatter of moving chairs, and looked around to discover that the four of them had just been joined – more accurately, encircled – by three broadly smiling boys. Rose recognized them from her first visit to Olivia’s house several weeks earlier: the big fat one was Olivia’s cousin Toby; the long skinny one was his friend Wayne; and the third, round-faced, bland-looking, was Malcolm Watts.

  It turned out the other two girls knew the boys as well: Bethany’s father owned the garage where Wayne worked part-time, and Malcolm was related in some way to a neighbour of Jennifer’s. They didn’t seem displeased by the company, although Rose sensed Olivia’s annoyance. But they couldn’t leave without being obviously rude, so they had to make the best of it.

  Wayne zeroed in on Rose with a heavy-handed lack of subtlety while Toby kept Bethany and Jennifer well-amused – judging by their frequent laughter – and Malcolm talked to Olivia in a low voice outside Rose’s hearing. In his attempts to chat her up, Wayne proved himself even dimmer than Rose had suspected. She wondered if he was really interested in her, or if he’d simply been put up to this by Toby, that troublemaking matchmaker. He told her, awkwardly, that she looked ‘real cute’ in her clothes; that he admired a girl who looked good in jeans; and asked her what kind of car she drove. He looked pained and disbelieving when Rose told him she couldn’t drive.

  ‘I’m fifteen,’ she explained.

  He scowled. ‘I wouldn’t let that stop me. I remember the car I drove when I was fifteen. I remember the car I drove when I was thirteen. I remember the first car I ever drove …’

  She sucked vigorously at her straw while he droned on. ‘Hey, should I buy you another one of those? Or something else, maybe?’ He winked at her. ‘Could be I’ve got a flask in my pocket …’

  ‘Keep it in your pocket,’ said Olivia, as she grabbed Rose’s shoulders. ‘We have to get going. I promised Nanny I’d be back by nine. Sorry to break up this little party …’

  ‘Oh, you go ahead,’ said Toby. ‘We’ll carry on without you. Wayne’ll give young Rosy a ride home.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ said Olivia. ‘I’m taking her home. She left some things in my car, anyway.’

  ‘You’ll never get back by nine if you have to detour out to Wishbone Creek,’ said Toby, staring hard at his cousin.

  ‘You let me worry about that, all right? Goodnight, boys and girls. Enjoy yourselves.’

  Rose glanced back as they walked away. Wayne seemed to have forgotten them already and was talking enthusiastically about something – probably cars – to Bethany. Toby was drinking his strawberry-lemonade and looking across at Malcolm. And Malcolm was staring after them, his eyes burning hotly into Olivia’s oblivious back.

  Rose hurried after her friend. ‘Thanks for rescuing me.’

  ‘As if I’d abandon you. If you ever want to be abandoned, just say the word. But you can do better than Wayne Toogood.’ They exited from the mall into the cool night air of the parking lot. Suddenly Olivia halted, her hand at her throat.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘My necklace.’ She scanned the ground around her feet. ‘The catch must have broken; it must have fallen off somewhere. It could be anywhere … I think I remember still feeling it when we sat down with our drinks.’

  ‘Shall we go back and look for it?’

  Olivia hesitated, then shook her head. ‘And get caught up with them again? No … it wasn’t especially valuable. Just a gold heart with my initials on it. If somebody finds it they’ll probably turn it in. There’s a lost-and-found department in the mall; I’ll phone them tomorrow morning.’ She began to walk briskly across the parking lot without a backward glance and Rose had to hurry after her.

  Olivia’s reluctance to go back inside struck Rose as odd. ‘What happened back there? What was Malcolm talking to you about?’

  In the artificial yellow glow of the outdoor lighting Rose couldn’t make out the meaning of her friend’s expression. ‘Oh … he asked me out on a date. Very formally. It’s never nice to reject someone. I was as nice as I could be. I said it was nothing personal, but I simply don’t go out with boys. So he goes, like, I understand you make an exception for the Midwinter Ball. And I go, well, yes, I do go to the Midwinter Ball because it pleases my grandmother and it’s a family tradition, but that I keep it in the family by choosing my escorts from among my cousins. And he …’ Olivia shook her head. ‘That was when I looked at my watch and “remembered” about having to get home early. I could feel he was fixing to start an argument. As if you could argue somebody into liking you.’

  ‘He probably doesn’t realize you don’t like him.’

  ‘Well, I should hope he doesn’t! He’s in our house all the time, he lives in the apartment above the garage … why make his life uncomfortable by letting him know he gives me the creeps? It’s not his fault. When he’s in his place, I don’t mind him. But the way he was looking at me just then made my skin crawl. I don’t know what put it into his head to ask me out, but I’m betting it was some mischief of Toby’s. And he’ll probably ask again.’

  ‘Well, then, you’ll just have to turn him down again, for the same reason. He can’t take it personally if you just don’t date. And, luckily, he can’t ask you to the Midwinter Ball.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Olivia. ‘And there is absolutely no way on earth he can make me ask him to be my partner.’

  9 Learning to Dance

  After Olivia brought her home, Rose had a cup of cocoa with Gran, which had become the nightly ritual once the evenings had grown cooler.

  ‘Has Olivia told you who she’s inviting to the Midwinter Ball?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘A cousin. I don’t think she’s decided which one.’

  ‘As if it mattered,’ said Gran tartly. ‘Why doesn’t she have a boyfriend? What do you think, Rose? Is it normal for a girl her age not to date? It isn’t as if she hasn’t been asked, from what I hear.’

  ‘What do you hear?’ Rose asked, fascinated, but Gran gave her a reproving look.

  ‘I’m not going to pass on unfounded gossip,’ she said primly, as if she hadn’t just been doing that. ‘Olivia’s your friend – you can ask her yourself how many refusals she’s given. And you might just hint to her that it gives the wrong message. Refusing to go out with any of the boys at her school as if she’s too good for ‘em.’

  ‘Oh, no, she doesn’t think like that!’

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t, but others do. And much as I love and respect Sarah, I suspect sometimes that she thinks her only granddaughter is too good for anyone in Duckett County. She’ll be wanting her to marry someone from one of the other old-money families in the state, as if nobody else could possibly be worthy. You’d think they were royalty! It’s not right. Like the way they’ve shut themselves off up in that new house. Sarah isn’t doing Olivia any favours by encouraging her to stay aloof.’

  ‘I don’t think Olivia’s gran has told her not to date anyone from school …’

  ‘Not in so many words. But she’ll have her ways. Even if Olivia doesn’t realize, I’ll bet you that’s the reason she’s “not interested” in boys. But maybe now with you as her friend Olivia might start to see what she’s been missing, and she might get a little bolder. You could encourage her, if there is a boy she likes
at school, to ask him out. The two of you could double date!’ Gran gave her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Maybe there’s someone you’ve got your eye on …?’

  ‘Gran, honestly!’ Rose shook her head, laughing nervously. ‘You sound more like a teenager than a grandmother!’

  Gran laughed – a girlish giggle – looked down into the remains of her cocoa and said, ‘Well, I’ve always been a romantic, really. But – well, I had such fun when I was a girl. I had a lot of beaus – yes, before your grandfather deigned to notice me! – and even more friends. And so did Sarah Duckett! It seems so unfair that Olivia is missing out. She’s too young to always be thinking about the future – she should be enjoying the present.’

  ‘She does, Gran. We have fun together.’

  ‘I’m glad. I’ll just rinse these mugs, and then I’m off to bed. You’re not going to stay up too late, are you?’

  ‘No, don’t worry. I’m just going to check my e-mail, and write to Simon, and then maybe read for a while.’

  ‘All right. Goodnight, dear.’

  Rose turned her face up for her grandmother’s kiss. ‘Goodnight, Gran. Sleep tight.’

  ‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite!’

  When she checked her e-mail, Rose found nothing from Simon – he had become more elusive of late, and, because her mind was on the subject, she wondered if he’d finally found himself a girlfriend, or if it really was his studies that took up all his time, as he claimed. There were, however, two letters from Orson.

  The first was a sort of stream-of-consciousness rhapsody about love and Olivia, set off by the music he’d been listening to, songs about perfect, unattainable women. Rose felt a faint impatience with the boy. It was all so unreal and overblown. He didn’t know Olivia at all. He had created a fantasy-figure and he hadn’t a clue …

  The second letter inspired a strange sensation not unlike déjà vu. Seeing her own, real name in Orson’s letter made her heart beat faster. And then she laughed out loud. So, Malcolm Watts had asked Jennifer Banks for a date only minutes after Olivia had turned him down! Wouldn’t Olivia be relieved to hear how little impression her rejection had made! Obviously the poor guy just wanted somebody, anybody, to go out with him.

  She read through both of Orson’s letters again and his overblown, plaintive, romantic yearning came together in her mind with Olivia’s excessive unease when confronted by an unwanted suitor. If you didn’t fancy a guy you just let him know. She was sure she wouldn’t have any problem turning down Wayne Toogood if he ever popped the question – any question. She certainly wouldn’t have been so bothered about his feelings as to be afraid to go back and search for a lost necklace! In a flash, she saw it: her friend Olivia, apparently so sure of herself and in control, was actually afraid of men. Her self-imposed ban on dating was determined by that fear. Gran thought that Olivia just wanted to please her grandmother, and that might be part of it, but Rose was now sure Olivia was as afraid of falling in love as Orson was of being rejected by his love-object: neither was willing to take the risk.

  Would Orson love Olivia if he really knew her? Rose’s heart hammered against her ribs. Why not? Olivia was beautiful and smart, eminently loveable, even if she wasn’t the soft, dreamy creature that Orson imagined. Would Olivia love Orson? She’d shown no interest in him so far, and maybe he just wasn’t her type. But Rose didn’t want Olivia to fall in love – she just wanted her to get over her fear and have fun.

  She thought Gran’s suggestion, about a double date, was a brilliant idea. She’d go out with Orson’s friend and Orson would escort hers … The fact that Rose didn’t see Farren Wiles as a romantic object was no obstacle, in fact, it was perfect. The four of them would have fun together, Orson would get over his baseless crush on Olivia, and Olivia would get over her fear. And Rose would be there when Orson woke from his romantic dream, and maybe he’d look at her and realize that she was the one he’d wanted all along …

  And what about Farren? Wouldn’t he be put out if she manoeuvred him into asking her out? She liked him as a friend, but she didn’t want him imagining that she fancied him. It wouldn’t be fair to him. OK, forget Farren. The thing to do was to get Orson to ask Olivia out and to get Olivia to agree. And what better way to get Olivia to agree to a date than to make it not-a-date, by making it a threesome, by going along herself?

  She’d get to work on Olivia later. First, Roberto was going to tell Orson to be a man and finally act on his desire, and she was sure this was a message he would respond to.

  *

  Three years of lessons, plus a natural ability, had turned Orson Banks into one of the best ballroom dancers in the county. So far, he had attended the Midwinter Ball only as an escort to one of his sisters, but this year he hoped it would be different.

  Mrs Gwilliam, the elderly dancing teacher, had requested his assistance this year. ‘It helps the students get the feel of it better if they can dance with someone who really knows how,’ she said. ‘Olivia Mason has agreed to help out, and you are by far the best of the young gentlemen.’

  At the beginning of the first lesson, Mrs Gwilliam asked Orson and Olivia to demonstrate the waltz. As the music from the boom-box swelled and filled the dance studio lined with rows of earnest, staring students, for a moment Orson thought he wouldn’t be able to move without falling down. Olivia looked at him a little impatiently through cool blue eyes, and he got a grip. If he acted the fool, she’d think he was one. Taking hold of her lightly yet firmly, he began to dance in time to the music. She followed his lead effortlessly. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

  His heart lifted. He reminded himself of Ro’s letter: Olivia can’t read your mind. She doesn’t know about your doubts, or about your feelings for her. If you wait for her to make the first move you’ll wait forever. She probably hasn’t noticed you. So get yourself noticed! Talk to her. Be friendly. You’ll scare her off if you accost her and ask her for a date straight away, so don’t rush it. Make friends with her. Find some non-threatening excuse to spend some time with her, either alone or with her girlfriend.’

  He would strike up a conversation, Orson decided; start with generalities, and gradually get more personal. But before he could think of what to say first, Mrs Gwilliam had stopped the music, and was making use of Orson and Olivia as models to demonstrate how to stand and move together. Then she briskly assigned partners. Olivia was given the lanky, awkward-looking Wayne Toogood to partner while Orson’s partner, to his surprise, was Rose.

  ‘I warn you, I’m an absolute beginner,’ she said. ‘I’ve never danced in my life. I don’t know where to put my feet.’

  ‘Don’t worry about where you’re going to put your feet. That’s fatal. Try not to think at all. Just listen to the music and follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.’

  And she was, somewhat to his surprise. Unlike his sisters – and, unlike some partners he’d had, she could hear the music and respond to its rhythms quite naturally.

  ‘Are you sure you’ve never danced before? You’re much too good for this to be your first time.’

  Her face lit up in response, but she looked doubtful. ‘I’ve never danced with a partner. My brother wouldn’t dance with me. So I’d turn on the radio and twirl around the sitting room, pretending I was a gypsy, while he pitched pennies at me.’

  Orson laughed. ‘Brothers don’t make the best dancing partners – you should ask my sister. You’re in Jennifer’s class, aren’t you?’

  For the next dance, Orson was partnered with someone else who had considerably more confidence than Rose, but also considerably less skill. ‘No, listen to the music,’ he said patiently. ‘Don’t try to talk … Hum along with it, if that helps, or count it out. Like this …’

  Orson noticed Jenny’s new boyfriend Malcolm Watts was among the students although, from the bored look on his face and the slightly mechanical correctness of his steps, it seemed unlikely that he needed, or would attend, many lessons. The first date had apparently been a success; at any rate, Je
nny was going out with Malcolm again next weekend. It was almost a certainty that she’d be sending Malcolm an invitation to the Midwinter Ball so Orson would not be expected to escort his sister. Which meant that unless he had a secret admirer, or acquired a girlfriend in the next few weeks, he wouldn’t be going.

  His heart began to race as he looked across the long studio to where Olivia was struggling valiantly with Wayne Toogood and his two left feet. He had to act quickly, before she invited one of her cousins.

  ‘Ow!’ The girl in his arms yelped and gave a lurch. She glared up at him as she bent to massage her leg. ‘You kicked me!’

  She had screeched so loudly that everyone around them had stopped dancing to stare at them. Orson could feel himself blushing. ‘I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry, really I am.’

  As soon as class was over, Orson moved quickly to intercept Olivia. ‘Excuse me. Hey, Olivia? I thought your comments on Moby Dick were really interesting in class the other day. I’m trying to write my paper, and I’ve been thinking about the whole notion of whiteness, the way Melville uses it, and … well, it’s kind of complicated, but I wondered if I could talk it over with you?’

  The defensiveness which had sprung to her face the moment he’d spoken her name had gone. She looked interested, receptive, yet slightly puzzled. ‘Now?’

  ‘Well, not here, obviously, but if you’ve got the time we could go around the corner for coffee or a soda?’

  Her face closed down again. She shook her head. ‘No, that’s not possible, I’m sorry. If you want to talk about Moby Dick, how about tomorrow, before class?’

  ‘I had something more than five or ten minutes in mind. I really would value your input. How about tomorrow after school? We could go to that café down the street.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  If it had been anyone else but Olivia he would have given up right then. She didn’t want to go out with him; she obviously suspected that the literary discussion was a ploy. But he couldn’t admit to Roberto that he’d fallen at the first hurdle. ‘Why don’t I look for you at lunch-time tomorrow? Where do you usually go? We could talk about it then, while we eat lunch.’