We enjoyed ourselves, and I was as attentive and charming as I knew how to be. Sherry responded perfectly, with increasing closeness and developing intimacy. It seemed to be really working, and for the first time in a long time I was optimistic about my future with a woman. Then she started to close in on me. I called her every day at work, but she called me every night. At first it seemed like a pleasure, but then it began to feel as though she were checking up on me. If I were out, then she would keep calling until late, when I returned, wanting a full report on my whereabouts. And although she didn’t exactly act as though she thought I had been with another woman, what else was I to conclude? Then she began asking for more time together, asking me on dates mid-week and to meet her for lunches. She began to talk about the future, using the word we, and taking me for granted. It was overwhelming. What choice did I have but to make a break for it? One night I decided just to go out to a bar to relax for a while, to have some casual companionship and conversation with new people. And while I was talking to a really beautiful woman, and making contact with her by smiling and touching her hand, Sherry walked in with a colleague to have a drink. What were the odds that she’d choose the same bar I was at? She walked right up to us and created a scene too dismal to remember, but the upshot was I called it off and walked out of the place, all without even getting the number of the wonderful woman I’d just met.
That’s how this whole situation came about. I never go through the holidays alone. I stay with whatever woman I’m seeing until mid-January, if it comes to that, because having a woman in my life is important to me and nobody wants to be alone on Christmas or New Year’s. If Sherry hadn’t been so possessive, she’d be here with me right now, and who knows, we might be engaged. I just don’t know why things never work out for me. Sometimes it seems like I’m jinxed, but then I realize that it’s the women around me who just seem to be incapable of having a decent relationship. Here I’ve been dating since I was eight, and I can’t find a woman to marry.
Desperate for some care, a visiting nurse service began to seem my only option, but before it came to that, miracle of miracles, I got better. One morning on awakening, my head was no longer pounding. My sight had mostly returned, along with my hearing. I was hungry. The flu was over, no thanks to Holly or anyone else. I had survived. Still weak, but on my way to recovery, I pulled on some clothes, padded softly into my kitchen and drank the last of the orange juice. It rejuvenated my spirit so much that I resolved to drive to the nearest market, to stock up on all sorts of food, and that was what I did. I came home, put everything away, including several containers of chicken soup from a deli, which fit nicely into the freezer. No virus was going to catch me unprepared in the future. Then I took a long soak in my Jacuzzi, a short nap, and began to feel more like myself than ever.
Christmas was over, New Year’s was approaching, and I’d be damned if I was going to spend it all alone and miserable. Should I call Sienna? It seemed like a possibility but not one I particularly favored. I needed a new woman, someone who could open up a can of soup and make love. Then I remembered that singles’ networking group that sent out flyers about all sorts of gala events. There was one on New Year’s and I decided to go. The woman of my dreams would probably be there and all my problems would be over. I could meet her, fall in love, and get settled in by the summer. I gave Lou a call to see if he wanted to join me because he had recently dumped someone and was probably feeling low and in need of some social activity. With my New Year’s plans in order, I set about unpacking my cartons, setting up my stereo and thinking about a future guaranteed to be brighter than the past. There were some days left in my vacation, and it seemed a good idea to make the most of them, particularly as more than half of the time I took off to get settled into my house had been squandered on the flu.
By the time New Year’s arrived, I was feeling almost like my old self, although I still tired rather more quickly than is normal. Lou and I met at Cutters, a nice place, and stood around surveying the crowd. It seems like a wise move at any gathering to check out the room before throwing yourself into socializing. That way you can see if there are any women you want to meet, and what percentage of those gathered might be of interest. Then you can work the room efficiently, making contact with as many potentially desirable partners as possible.
I spotted the usual number of desperate characters, a few lookers, and a number of possibilities. Lou and I chatted amicably while waiting for things to start happening. The point is to notice the girls you want to meet and then to make eye contact so that they’ll come over, or if they’re really spectacular, I go over to them. Everything was proceeding nicely, when one of the possibilities asked me to dance. I always admire a woman with the courage to do that, so I went off to give her a while, leaving Lou to fend for himself. Dancing is the perfect activity, because you can hold a woman in your arms and see if there’s any strong chemistry between you, while still checking out the room all around you. It was funny, but while we were dancing, I spotted this tiny girl with long blonde hair who looked familiar, and I was sure we had slept together, but I couldn’t place her. The flu was still doing a job on my memory, because it is highly unlikely that I would fail to recognize anyone I’d ever been with. Eventually I gave the slip to the girl in my arms, after taking her number and promising to call, something that was a genuine possibility but not a pressing desire on my part, and went out in search of Lou.
He was standing talking to a beautiful blonde, one of the typical California dream girls that are the natural resource of this great state. I went over and got an introduction, planning to do nothing to snake Lou’s girl away from him, but it was clear that she preferred me and that he didn’t have that much of an interest in her, why I can’t imagine, except different strokes and all that. Eventually Lou walked away, leaving me alone to chat with Tawny, who was so sweet and charming that I liked her right away. There’s something about these California girls that just makes you warm right up to them, and it’s not their looks but rather I figure it has to do with the fact that they work out so much that it makes them happy and mellow, and it always feels like a pleasure to be in their company.
We had a long conversation about the various gyms in the area, about sports equipment and the best place to play tennis. It seemed that she was as much a tennis enthusiast as I am, and we made a date to play together in a few days. We laughed and smiled and looked into each other’s eyes, and it seemed that a real bond was growing between her and me. I was connected to a woman, and I knew that something was going to come of it. I thought about spending the rest of the evening with her, but decided that it would make more sense to work the rest of the room. I had her number, we had made a date, and the future lay ahead of us invitingly, so we parted warmly, with assurances of our date and that I would call.
I spoke to six other women then. Three were possibilities, and three were of little interest to me, but at least I was in circulation again and felt alive again. Things were returning to normal. It was a pretty positive evening all around and my spirits were in good shape. I grew a bit tired and was almost ready to leave, when I looked across the room and made eye contact with Liana.
At first I couldn’t believe it was her because she lived in New York, and because it had been so many years since we’d been together. Our eyes locked in that compelling way that signifies something intense, usually something that is about to start, like when you meet the woman of your dreams and it feels perfect from the start. At first I toyed with the notion that she was a Liana lookalike, but no, it seemed really to be Liana. Our eyes remained locked for a long while and then we looked away, only to return our glances and connect once again. I walked over to her, feeling the intensity of the pull between us.
“Excuse me…don’t we know each other?” I asked, all the while caught in the trap that was her eyes. It was Liana, and she was more beautiful than ever. There was a glow about her that I didn’t remember from the past, as though she had come in
to full bloom in the time we were apart, coming into her own and becoming even more beautiful, if possible.
“Kevin?” she asked, as amazed as I was. I reached out my hand to shake hers in a gesture that was at once suitable and crazy. I felt like crushing her in my arms in a bear hug, the way I always used to.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, amazed to see her. I looked at her and felt a warmth I didn’t know was possible. Liana. She was more beautiful than I remembered, more beautiful than any woman should be. Her hair was long and natural, her dress subtle and lovely, her skin clear and radiant. She made every other woman in the room look plastic, shellacked and overdone. Liana was real, alive, and completely perfect. You know that if you woke up with her, you wouldn’t go into a state of shock to discover that the woman you went to sleep with had turned into someone else overnight as her hair came unglued and her makeup faded.
“I live here,” she said, and it seemed that there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in her reply. What was wrong? “What are you doing here?” she asked me.
I decided to meet her all the way. In the same sophisticated tone, I replied, “I live here.” But my blood was boiling and I wanted to return to the time when we were so close, when she would lift her lips for my kiss like it was the greatest gift I could offer her, when she would walk into my arms to be held all warm and safe. I wanted to remind her of all that we had shared, to rekindle instantly the wealth of love that had gone between us. “How’s your daughter?”
“Bigger than me,” Liana replied, still cool and poised.
“She must be about twelve by now.” I smiled, recalling the little tyke who was such a cute kid, and my own pleasure at being included in their family things.
Liana looked only slightly startled by my powers of recollection. “That’s right.”
“So, how long have you been here?” I asked, floundering for something, anything, to make her remember me.
“About a year.” She answered my questions but volunteered nothing on her own. And I was getting lost in her eyes, and feeling lost at heart to think that this woman who had loved me so much now seemed hardly to remember me. I thought she would love me forever, and I know that her memory has haunted me off and on through the years. Now it seemed as though I was nothing more than a casual affair long ago in her past.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing you now, Liana, this is amazing, but I guess everybody in L.A. goes to these things eventually.”
“I thought you looked familiar….”
“But not to recognize me!” There was no concealing the astonishment I felt.
“It’s been a long time,” she said as coolly as any woman has said anything to me, ever.
“Remember that champagne bubble bath?” I asked her almost shyly, as if that might trigger something in her memory, something that would warm the light in her eyes and the ice in her voice, something that would bring back the intimacy and the love we shared.
She smiled then, and I didn’t feel so much an outsider any more. “Give me your number,” I asked, “I’m planning a house warming party and you’re invited. In fact you have Carte Blanche.”
Her voice became cynical then as she replied, “You said that to me once before.”
I leaned toward her, looking forward to a romantic story, “Well what happened?”
“I think you were drunk at the time.” Her voice was cold as ice and I could see that it would take a lot of work to return to her good graces.
“Well, it was probably your fault, giving me all that champagne.”
Liana just looked at me with very little emotion, and so I did my best. I put the card she had handed me into my pocket and smiled my most charming smile. “I loved it,” I said with passion, looking into her eyes to let her know how much she had really meant to me. And then I took her hand in mine once again, holding it for as long as possible while I said, “I’ll send you an invitation.”
She smiled and nodded and let me keep her hand. And then we walked off, apart from each other, with no violin music playing and no resolution. Liana. Liana. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe she was the real reason I had come to Los Angeles. Maybe she was the woman for me after all. What other reason could there be for us to run into each other after all these year? You knew for sure that this woman could open a can of soup and take care of an ailing husband. And it seemed she grew better with time. All those years had passed and she had grown more beautiful, more capable, more womanly. I felt my heart, my arms, my whole body yearn for Liana.
She was here in L.A. and I was here. She had been really in love with me, I knew that. And now we were both here together. It had to mean something. I walked out of Cutters toward my car with that thought buzzing in my head. It had to mean something. I could have married Liana then, and I should have married Liana then. Maybe I was a fool in the past but I didn’t have to be a fool in the future. I sat in my car thinking about the whole thing and I was determined to get in touch with Liana right away, to make things right and to have a real relationship with her.
I pulled her card out of my pocket to look at it, and then all the other numbers I had collected came out with it. I had a date for tennis with Tawny, a beautiful California blonde. And Liana was here in Los Angeles. I didn’t have to be alone or miserable any more.
Liana
Auld Lang Syne
Ace fell in love at first sight with a girl who fell in love right back, and within two weeks she had moved in with him. I began to think that Violet and I should move out of Ace’s house so that he and Delilah could have some privacy, but we all got on so well that it wasn’t necessary. Delilah and I became instant friends, and Violet fell in love with Samson, Delilah’s big gray cat.
We’d sit around together during meals or in the evening, and it was so amusing to listen to their conversations and so warm to be a part of their affection. It was better than watching a rerun of Newman and Woodward in The Long Hot Summer on TV. Delilah would say to Ace, “Y’know, once I read this Nancy Friday book of fantasies in which this guy dreams of getting a fat woman and tying her to the bed until she’s thin and beautiful. Would you do that for me?”
And then Ace would laugh and answer, “Deli, you can be sure of one thing—that if I tie you to the bed it sure won’t be to make you do crunches.”
Delilah would laugh right back and she’d answer, “Don’t call me Deli—it sounds so fattening.”
And Ace would reply, “You are my deli, and I love your corned beef on rye.” Then he’d reach over and bite her on the neck or hug her or tickle her.
And Delilah would squeal with pleasure and love for Ace and reply, “Ooh Bluebeard, I’ll walk the plank for you any day.”
Delilah always called Ace Bluebeard because she said she was sure he had been a pirate in a past life, and because he looked like one now with his long hair and hoop earring.
Each day there would another playful scene between them and the energy in the house got happier and happier. Delilah spent lots of time with Violet, something Violet enjoyed because Deli could always make her laugh. And I began to yearn for a partner of my own, someone with whom I could share the kind of genuine love affair that my brother was having. Each day I watched them and wished for a soulmate of my own. I had everything else, and all that was left was to meet a man I could love and marry.
Ace decided to have a party for all his clients, and that worked out positively for us all. Deli met a studio executive with whom she hit it off right away, and who hired her to read scripts at home, which meant she could work on movies, something she really loved, and that she and Ace would have more time together plus more time with Violet while I was at work.
I met Jerry, a friend of a friend, and we began a love affair. I saw Jerry across the room as he came in the door with one of Ace’s clients. He was gorgeous and I wanted to meet him right away. We made eye contact and it didn’t take long before we were talking and laughing together. Jerry was tall and sexy and he had a merry, twinkling, naughty lig
ht in his eyes that always made me smile. It seemed that Jerry’s eyes held only happiness for me.
He and I dated every night for a while, and it felt like we were both falling in love. We’d meet for drinks and dinner and the conversation was easy and flowing, and one or the other of us would reach a hand for the other’s hand or casually brush thigh against thigh, in the constant physical confirmation we sought of one another’s presence. Sometimes I’d spend the night at his house, enjoying the sex and the closeness of sleeping next to this man who liked to twine his limbs around mine, to hug and kiss me while he slept.
There was no question that were growing closer, and I knew that I loved Jerry and he loved me. The only problem was that he didn’t really have the time to devote to romance after the first few weeks. Even tho we only spent occasional evenings together because I had to be home with Violet, he still wanted to go to sleep by nine, and that is when I’m just about ready for my dinner. He liked to rise at the crack of dawn to get into the office to attend to all his affairs, and I am not a morning person.
Those things were issues on which we both might have been able to compromise, but Jerry was not a compromiser. We had dates whenever he wanted, only when he wanted, and if I wanted some company or for some reason needed him, he was unavailable. I don’t like to be overly pushy, and it is my philosophy that love works best when each person accepts the other exactly as he or she is, rather than asking for constant changes and compromise, but it seemed that Jerry was completely unavailable to me, except as I fit into his schedules, and that didn’t seem like a good basis for a marriage.
The Sportin' Life Page 17
