by Desiree Span
She looked at me for a split second and seemed a little embarrassed. She then maneuvered out of his arms and quietly said, “Give me a call later.”
What the hell was going on here? Of all people, was she with Mark? Whatever happened to the ridiculous NO Bad Boys and Bitches contract she came up with in the eighth grade and made me sign? I felt my heart sink into my shoes.
He let go of her and she started to walk away.
I was too stunned to think or move for that matter, so she walked a few steps back and pulled me by the arm.
“Come on, Oliver, let’s go for a swim.” I followed her, still trying to process what I had just witnessed.
“I think this spot will have to do, Ol.” She threw her backpack and towel next to a full trashcan that looked like it was about to explode and stripped to her bikini. Without waiting for me or giving me the chance to ask why she hadn’t told me about her and Mark, she ran into the water and yelled, “Hurry up, farty-face!”
It was early October and we were lucky to still have the remains of an Indian summer. It was already quite late, but the evening was still pleasantly warm and Erica and I were going over some algebra thing in the treehouse.
She was getting really frustrated with a problem we were working on and was chewing fiercely on her gum, blowing a bubble now and then. She kept tapping her pen anxiously on the table, and just as I was about to tell her that she was getting on my nerves she sighed and suddenly shut her book. “Never mind this. I won’t get it anyway,” she said.
“Well this is going to be on the exam, E... so I think—,”
“Whatever, Olly,” she interrupted. She cleared her throat and tossed the pen on the table.
“So, what’s going on between you and Becky?” she asked. She stared at me and I then realized that all the while she wasn’t frustrated with the problem; she was frustrated with me.
I looked up from my workbook, sat back in my chair, and crossed my arms. “Well, let’s see. Not much really. We went out a couple of times during the summer... and... that’s about it,” I said.
She frowned and looked at me. “Well, that’s not what she is saying,” she said.
I waited for her to go on but nothing.
“So? What’s she saying?” I asked. I had no idea where she was going with this.
“Becky said she broke up with you because you had also been sleeping with Alexis and then you fooled around with Miranda at Zack’s party!”
I scoffed and then chuckled. This was just plain stupid.
Erica leaned in and slowly said, “Ol, this isn’t funny. Becky is spreading the word that you are fucking around.” She then paused, waiting for my reaction, but I gave her nothing. “So? Is this true?” she demanded to know, growing impatient.
I paused for a brief moment, because no, it wasn’t actually true. I mean, I had been going out with Becky during the summer and yes, we had had sex. But just before school started I broke it off. I liked Becky but I figured, what was the point? In a year or so I would be off to college and Becky would be going somewhere else. Besides, on our first date we had actually joked about it just being a summer fling. I thought we were clear on not letting it turn into anything serious, and honestly didn’t intend to hurt her feelings, but Becky didn’t take it very well. She was “disappointed” and had called me something along the lines of an asshole. Anyway, I knew she was angry with me, but the whole Alexis and Miranda thing was new to my ears and I actually found the story amusing and even more so that Erica would believe it.
“Well, what do you think, Erica?” I asked, teasing her.
She looked at me and shrugged.
“Besides, what do you care?” I asked, smiling and still provoking her. I couldn’t help it. I was intrigued by her reaction to this gossip.
“I don’t,” she snapped. “I just don’t get what you are doing and why you haven’t told me any of this. I mean we are best friends! And basically, I simply don’t get why you have never asked me out,” she said. She leaned back, crossed her arms and looked at me, frowning.
Her question caught me completely off guard. I was going to tell her that she hadn’t bothered to tell me about Mark either, and my punchline would have been, “Surely because you were too embarrassed to be associated with that Neanderthal.” But her reproaching me for not asking her out had me genuinely surprised.
“Well, I’ve never asked you out... because... I don’t know,” I stammered. “But, I guess it’s because you’ve been seeing Mark,” I said, now seriously.
“I’m not talking about recently, Oliver! Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” She paused for a second. “But I bet you I’m a better kisser than Becky, Alexis, and Miranda.” She paused again and then suddenly stood up. She walked toward me and before I could realize what she was going to do, she pushed the table to the side, slightly bent over, and placed both hands on the armrests at each side of my wooden chair. I looked up at her somewhat startled.
Her face was really close now and I couldn’t quite make out her expression, but she looked at me intensely, determined, almost defying. She was chewing her gum slowly now, absentmindedly, but then took it out of her mouth and stuck it on the back of her hand, never taking her eyes off mine. For the first time I noticed that her brown eyes had these small, amber golden specks in them.
She was a beauty, blessed with almost flawless skin and a perpetual healthy blush on her cheeks. She didn’t need to nor hardly wore any makeup. And I noted that the tiny freckles that had decorated her nose throughout the summer had begun to fade away. Then my eyes observed her mouth, one of her most noticeable features. She had full lips that always had a natural reddish hue, and her upper lip curled up slightly, emphasizing the Cupid’s bow and giving her an unintended pouty look.
I could feel her sugary, warm bubblegum breath on my face. And for the first time I consciously felt how I was physically reacting to her presence. My breathing accelerated and my heart beat fastened, making my blood rush through my veins. I then realized how much I had wanted to taste her mouth for some time now.
And then she closed her eyes and seemed to have read my thoughts, for she slowly brushed her lips against mine. Exhaling softly, she hesitated for a split second and then leaned in even further. Her lips lightly caught my lips, and then again and once more, before she opened her mouth and slipped her tongue inside mine. Her mouth was warm and tasted just as I had expected: sweet, like the strawberry gum she had been chewing. I reacted instantly. I tenderly placed my hand at the back of her neck and answered her kiss.
I felt an intense electric explosion and my pelvis tightened, and without thinking I slowly stood up, not letting go of her neck or mouth. I placed my other hand on the hollow of her back, pressing her against me. She kept on playing with my mouth, softly pulling at my lips, but gradually seemed to lose patience and eagerly pushed her tongue deeper, swirling and caressing my mouth. I greedily responded. We stood there for quite a while, our bodies against each other, as our lips and tongues kept exploring.
I wanted to touch more of her, feel her soft skin, and just as I was lifting the back of her shirt, she broke off the kiss and abruptly pulled back.
She looked at me bewildered and blinked a couple of times, as if just waking up from a bizarre dream. Taking several steps back, she slowly created more distance between us, until she had reached her side of the table. She then unlocked our gaze by turning her eyes down and looking anywhere but at me.
She quickly started gathering her books, placing them in her backpack and then, still without looking at me, softly said, “And? Am I a better kisser?”
“Uhm,” I cleared my throat. “Well... actually, I never kissed Alexis or Miranda, but yeah, you’re a good kisser,” I muttered.
She finally looked up and slowly smiled. “Told you,” she said quietly. And without saying anything else, she left me behind in the treehouse, feeling completely confused.
The next days were as if nothing had occurred. We went about our usual w
ay and she never brought up what had happened. I almost started thinking it had been a figment of my imagination.
She seemed the same, happy, carefree Erica I’d always known. I, on the other hand, found myself constantly brooding and thinking about our kiss, her full soft lips, her tongue, and the way she had tasted. This kiss had awoken something in me. A sensation I tried for days to ignore. A feeling of puzzling and frustrating dissatisfaction. The truth was that I found myself wanting more, much more of her. But at the same time this was Erica, my best friend; the same Erica who had thrown a tantrum when her mother made her wear a pink dress to my aunt’s wedding, and the same Erica who had wet her pants laughing when we were eight years old.
I was well aware of the effect I had on girls, but it was something I never gave much thought to. Having said that, I was no goody two-shoes either, so it bothered me that Erica’s kiss seemed to haunt me, like some love-sick virgin. I couldn’t sleep and felt irritated with myself for making such a big deal about it, for playing it over and over in my head and not being able to just let it go. I felt like a hungry man who had been given just a few crumbs of the most delicious cake, which was then snatched away.
The worst thing about the situation was her total silence about it and the fact that she seemed oblivious to what I was going through. This was the first time I felt I was not able to speak to her about something that was troubling me. And the first time she didn’t recognize on her own that I was preoccupied by something. This was new to me.
Chapter Seven
OLIVER
1993
* * *
I guess the kiss did have its effect after all, because as many months passed by Erica seemed to have gradually disappeared on me.
It began with her bailing out on our study afternoons, and then she hardly ever walked home with me anymore. At school it was as if she was evading me on purpose, until at a certain point I didn’t see her at all.
When I did see her, she was with Mark most of the time and she hung out mainly with his friends. I would catch a glimpse of them here and there, laughing, making out, arguing, making up... Anyway, it seemed like a real relationship; her first real relationship.
I bumped into her a couple of times at O’Brian’s pub, the only place to go for a real drink on Friday night, for the owner could still be fooled with a fake ID, or at least pretended he could be fooled. We would talk very briefly and every time she would promise to come by the treehouse soon, but the next time I would see her she would smile apologetically and say she was very busy lately. She would then kiss me on the cheek and promise, again, to come by soon.
We were nearing the end of our last year in high school and I was hanging out with Mike at the treehouse. He came over to show me he had gotten one of his ears pierced. I laughed at him and told him that with the pierced ear and long black hair he looked like a rock star, but a rock star with a serious monobrow.
It was late, but it was a Saturday and while we were listening to music and drinking beer, Mike was reading the latest issue of his favorite comic book and I was leafing through the study guide of the university I was going to attend.
Suddenly she was standing in the doorway of the treehouse. “Hi,” she said awkwardly and kind of waved.
“Fuck! You scared the shit out of me,” said Mike, holding his chest dramatically.
I hadn’t heard her come up either.
She looked absolutely stunning, she was wearing makeup and a tight little black dress with high heels.
My heart was pounding crazy fast, and there was a knot in my stomach. But I maintained my poker face, and quasi-nonchalant I said, “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Well, I promised I would come by, didn’t I?” she replied.
“Yeah, that was like four months ago,” I said while trying to sound cool with it, but in fact containing my indignation.
“Yeah,” said Mike. “We haven’t seen you around much, E. What’s up with that?”
“Well, I have been busy, Mike,” she snapped back.
Mike must have felt the tension because he suddenly said it was late and he had to go, leaving us behind in our uncomfortable situation.
“So,” she said after a moment and then cleared her throat. “How have you been, Olly?” she asked. She sat on the table, her legs crossed lady-like.
“I’ve been great, just great,” I stated with a flat voice.
“Good,” she said, and then silence.
This was really awkward.
I put down my study guide and looked at her.
“I don’t mean to be a dick, but seriously, Erica, what are you doing here?”
“Well,” she said, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “The other day I was talking with my dad, and seeing that we are both soon to be heading toward Boston for our studies, he suggested I ask you to drive together. I mean... you, me, and the Scooby-Doo van. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Olly?”
“And you couldn’t wait to tell me at school on Monday? I mean you are obviously dressed for some special occasion. So, why are you really here?”
My harsh reaction seemed to take her by surprise. She blinked a couple of times and then looked at me, hurt. “Mark took me out to a fancy dinner and we got into a huge fight. He just can’t get over the fact that I’m leaving and he’s afraid I’ll end up sleeping with some other college guy. And then, during the dinner he asked me to stay. Can you imagine?” She chuckled. “He’s way too possessive!” she said. “Anyway, I broke up with him and left. I left and came to see you.” She cautiously smiled at me, sensing that she was moving on thin ice.
I felt an immense anger just rise up at that moment. How dare she? How dare she assume that she could come and go whenever she wanted and that I would just be okay with it? Ready to serve whenever SHE felt it was necessary!
“I don’t get you, Erica,” I said angrily as I looked at her intensely. “You haven’t showed up here in months, you barely speak to me anymore, and now you want me to act like everything’s fine?”
She looked at me, then stood up from the table and pulled down the bottom of her tight Lycra dress that seemed to keep riding up with her every movement.
“Olly, I have told you... I’ve been really busy,” she whispered.
“Is that so?” I said sarcastically. “Well, I’m too busy now.”
I knew I was being childish, but I couldn’t help it. I stood up too and started packing my stuff in my backpack.
“What the hell, Oliver. Why are you acting this way?” she said. “I thought of all people you would understand! That you would be glad for me. I mean, don’t you see I’ve made some new friends? I have, well, had a boyfriend and I’m actually having fun lately. I’m living new experiences!”
“Yeah. I’ve noticed that, Erica! And in the process you’ve thrown out me! So, when your boyfriend isn’t good enough anymore, THEN you have time for me; THEN Oliver is okay to hang out with, but what about me? What about my feelings?” I said angrily and instantly regretted what I had said.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “What feelings?” she asked quietly. “What are you saying?” She paused and I didn’t answer.
“Well? What is it? Is this because we kissed... like months ago?”
She hadn’t forgotten our kiss, I thought, but I still didn’t answer.
“It’s the stupid kiss, isn’t it? So, what is it you are feeling, Oliver? Tell me! Do you feel neglected? Or just plain jealous?”
She was mocking me, and it hurt. Fuck. This was not at all how I wanted this conversation to go. I didn’t want her to see me as this vulnerable guy; this sentimental idiot who had made a big deal about something she clearly didn’t feel or consider existent. “Don’t be ridiculous, Erica! Why the hell would I be jealous? Because you’ve been with someone else? Don’t give yourself so much credit. And you know I never liked banging used-up girls, but if I’m in need of a good fuck, I’ll let you know.”
She looked at me and put her hand in front of her m
outh, her eyes wide.
Why did I have to say that? That was uncalled for. I felt like shit! I threw my backpack over my shoulder and quickly headed for the doorway to end this dreadful argument.
While I was heading for the threshold she said, “I’m sorry if your feelings are hurt, but I’m NOT planning to get stuck in this town. You know me — you should know better! I mean, what did you expect Oliver? That we would grow up together, kiss, and I would fall in love with you? Is that what you want?” She had started to cry. “Do you want me to marry you and have a ton of your babies and be a pathetic, small-town housewife, like your mother is?”
She was really angry, her eyes teary and her voice filled with emotions.
I turned around, infuriated by her demeaning comment. I was livid but tried hard to keep my cool, which made my body somewhat tremble and my nostrils flare. I did my best to restrain my voice when I slowly said “Fuck you, Erica!” while giving her the middle finger with both my hands.
I then walked out and climbed down the stairs, leaving her behind in the treehouse. And as I walked toward the house I could hear her shout, “Fuck you too, asshole!”
Chapter Eight
OLIVER
1995
* * *
I must have laid there for hours, staring at the ceiling of my apartment with the phone resting on my chest. I had been back in Boston for like a week and still couldn’t bring myself to making that damn phone call. I mean, what would I say to her? Where should I begin? Shit! Just fucking call her, dude!
* * *
It had been three years since we had had the huge argument in the treehouse, and we hadn’t spoken since. I barely saw her after that. She had completely avoided me those final weeks of high school, and when the time had come for us to leave for Boston she hadn’t called. So, I had taken my old VW Microbus, or “the Scooby-Doo van,” as everyone called it, and driven the two hour and fifteen-minute drive there alone.
