“What happened last night? Between you and Paul?” Yarrow asked. “Did you guys have a fight?”
“No, no, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding.”
“Olivine, he seemed really upset.”
“Was he here?”
“Mom said he was here most of the night, in and out. Checking on Dad, making sure he was okay. And he talked to the cardiologist this morning, too. Early. When he came by for rounds.”
Olivine shuddered. While she had been out trying to chase after Henry, Paul had been looking after her father.
Yarrow continued, “They talked about a number of different medication options, and we’re pretty sure he’ll be able to go home today. Later this afternoon. Paul said he’d be leaving town for a few days, but to call him if she needed to. If she needed anything at all. Where are you guys going? I didn’t know you were leaving for a few days.”
“No, no. I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“Did Paul say anything? About me?”
“Nothing. He just got this look on his face when Mom asked where you were last night. Where he had finally found you.” She looked up at her sister; stared right into her eyes. “Were you guys…were you and Henry?”
“No. No. Nothing. I’m going to fix it, Yarrow. Right now. I’m going to fix this thing with Paul.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t mess this up, Ollie. What you’ve got is a good, good thing. He’s a good, good man.”
“I know.” She looked at her phone. Blank. No messages from Henry. No messages from Paul.
“Wish me luck,” Olivine said. “I think I might need it.” And she raced back to her car, where she fished her ring out of the glove box. And she set out to make things right. To fix what she had done.
Chapter Fourteen
The storm was beginning to clear now, and patches of blue peeked from heavy, gray clouds. Olivine drove fast, and the Jeep left the road at times, around corners, over hills. As she neared her neighborhood, she slowed, but her mind kept racing. She would just decide. Had decided. And then she would live with it. No man was ever perfect anyway. She was tired of going back and forth, with her entire future hanging in the balance. She just needed to commit. And not look back. In truth, she was glad Henry had come back. It had helped her realize what was right in front of her. Helped her to see that the guy she had been pining for all these years had flaws. Fatal ones. And commitments. He was no longer available. Not in the way she needed him to be. And that was that. She would move on. She would prove to herself, just as she had done before, that she didn’t need him.
She looked at her engagement ring in the full light of day. It caught the sun just then and sent a brilliant spray of tiny white lights all over the interior of the Jeep. Radiance. A sign. A horn blared. Damn. She hadn’t even seen that stop sign. She waved sheepishly. “Sorry, my fault,” she mouthed. Get it together, she told herself. She rolled to a stop at the next intersection. She had the perfect man, just within her reach, and she was going to find him, get him back, let him know how much she adored him. Before it was too late.
She had just been trying to sabotage herself, like Paul told her she was doing when she resisted the idea of nursing school, at first. “You get wishy-washy sometimes,” he had said, “but that’s only because you’re insecure. You just have to make a decision and stick with it. And if you’re ever in doubt, make the decision that’s harder. Make the decision that would require more of you. This is the right decision in the end. Always.” While Paul’s attempts to mentor her could be annoying at times, she knew that he did it only because he wanted what was best for her.
She would be committed. She would move forward. She would be sure of herself. Precise. Just like Paul. He would help her become that way. More like him. Yarrow was right. He was a good, good man.
Olivine neared the house and screeched the tires to a stop on the road in front of the driveway where Paul had parked his car, on the diagonal. He emerged, just then, from the front of the house, rolling his carry-on bag.
She popped the Jeep into park and leapt out the door. She shouted his name, but Paul shook his head and continued on. Without a glance at her, he unlatched the trunk of his car, and, with one arm, hurled in the suitcase. Then he closed it with a thud. “I think we’re done here, Olivine.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Olivine urged. She pushed his chest with her hand. “Listen to me. Just listen to me.” She bobbed her head to meet his eyes. “Henry is a married man. With a son. Nothing happened. We were talking. About family. About life. About you. The only thing that talking with him made me realize is how much I love you. You. Only you. It’s always only been you.” She crashed the top of her head into his sternum. “Please believe me.”
He squared his shoulders, and she pulled back to meet his eyes.
“Why so back and forth, Olivine? Why all the drama? I never signed on for all the drama. We said we wanted to get married, so let’s get married. Let’s not play games. I don’t have time for your games or for you to go running off where I can’t find you when your sister calls me and tells me that your dad is lying lifeless on the ground.”
The image made her wince. “Now who is being dramatic?” she asked.
“It’s true, Olivine. Flip the tables and see how you would feel. Say I went off, with, say, Coco, from the O.R.”
“Coco? Who is Coco?”
“Aha! Exactly!”
“No, really, who is Coco?”
“She’s my Operating Room nurse. For the past twenty months.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I know.”
“Because you never told me about her.”
“Because you never asked.”
“You don’t like to talk about certain things. How am I supposed to know what those things are, and what they aren’t?”
Paul looked up at the quiet houses on the street. Olivine lowered her voice. “Okay, okay. No, I wouldn’t like it if I came along and you were curled up with…with Coco.”
“You really were curled up with him?”
“No, no, bad choice of words.”
“Oh, Olivine.”
“Okay, just listen, Paul. What I’m telling you is that I am committed to you. I have been with you for three years. Faithful. Loyal. I haven’t so much as disagreed with anything you’ve said. I’ve gone along with everything. I’ve changed my life plan for your future.”
“For our future,” he corrected.
“For our future. All I did was…I reconnected with a friend last night. It meant nothing. He’s married. He has a son. In fact, his son is here. Working with him. Right now.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Paul ran his hands through his hair, making it stand straight up in front for a moment before he smoothed it back down. “Oh Olivine. You’ve had me on the ropes. When I saw you, there, on the porch, with someone else…it all just collapsed. And all night I couldn’t think of anything. Anything….except all the plans that we had together and how they might not happen. I think I kicked a hole in the wall, just now.
“You think?”
“I’ve just never felt this kind of anger. This rage. I don’t know what to do. And all this time, I kept thinking, even if you come back right now and you tell me you love me and everything is just as it was, would I ever be able to fully trust this is true? Do you really want to get married. To me? Can I trust you?”
“Of course you can. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”
“You don’t have to prove anything. Let’s just…”
“No, really. I want to. Let me just think for a minute.”
“No one is asking you to prove anything.”
“I’ve got it. Let’s go somewhere, together.” She was feeling edgy on the inside. Panicky.”Let’s go to Vegas!”
He rolled his eyes. “You hate Las Vegas.”
“I do?”
“Aren�
��t you more of a national park kind of girl. Isn’t that what you’ve said every single time I’ve asked you to come to Vegas with me?”
“Okay, okay, sure, but you love it. And this isn’t really about me right now. So let’s go.”
“Seriously?”
“Most seriously.”
“Well, I already have a bag packed.”
“You were going to leave me?” Her voice sounded small and whiny. She forced her shoulders back.
“Nope,” he answered. “I was going to go to Mitch’s for the weekend. I was just going to give you your space, Olivine. And I was going to figure some things out. It’s not every weekend that I’m not on call, and Mitch is in Europe this month.” Paul’s medical school friend had invented a medical device and lived on a golf course in the city, when he wasn’t traveling the world.
“So you have the whole weekend,” Olivine said. “Let’s get the earliest flight that we still can today and the last flight home Sunday.” She ran around to the passenger side of the Audi, slid into the car and slammed the door, grinning at him. Her limbs felt restless, just like when she was with Henry.
This was just the kind of thing that she and Henry would do. Go somewhere, on a moment’s notice. Olivine realized with a thump that maybe it wasn’t the man that was wrong; maybe it was the kind of person she was when she was with him. She would simply bring this Olivine to Paul. This Olivine, who was alive, vibrant. Fun. Happy. That’s all she needed to do.
Paul came around to open her car door. “Don’t you want to pack a bag?” he asked, but he was laughing. This was going to work, Olivine thought.
“Nope,” she said, “You can buy me a new dress or two. You love to buy me new dresses.”
“Well, that is true,” he conceded.
“New lingerie, too. Okay?” She grinned.
Olivine knew that, more than anything else, Paul wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tell her what to do. He wanted to tell her what to wear. This weekend, she would be his doll. She would do his bidding. Whatever he wanted. It would be good practice for their life together.
He ran around the other side of the car and slid in.
“The best part?” she said, “By the time we get back, What’s-His-Name’s work will be done. And he’ll be gone. Back to his family in Wherever-He-Lives.”
“What’s-His-Name?” Paul asked.
“I’m sorry, who?” said Olivine. “See, I’ve forgotten him already. Please. You forget, too.”
“You have put me on a roller coaster, Miss Ollie.” It was a name he hadn’t called her in years.
“Oh, my feet were just feeling a little coldish. Just the tiniest bit cold-ish. But they’re warming up. All weekend, I’ll warm them up against you. It happens to everyone. Cold Feet. Or so says my sister. And look at her.”
“Yeah, look at her.” He laughed and started the car. “Um, Ollie, You’re going to have to move your Jeep,” he said. “Or do you just want to leave it there all weekend, idling in the middle of the road?”
“See how impetuous you have made me? How I had to just race out of my car to snatch you back?”
“I see. Yes, you’ve made your point. Now go move your car.” He was smiling, laughing.
She hung her head. “Oh, alright. But I’m not packing a bag.”
When she returned to the car, he said, “I think I like you like this. You’re….feisty.”
Her relief was stunning. Things were going to be fine with Paul. Just fine. She was so tired of over-thinking things. Of thinking about Henry. And then about Paul. And then about Henry. This was why she was thirty-two years old and still single while her sister, just two years older, had a husband and four kids. She had to seize what was there. She had to seize the sure thing, and she had to move forward.
“We should do this kind of thing more often,” she said, ejecting Paul’s Jazz CD and tuning instead to the radio. She turned the volume dial a full turn to the right.
He looked at her sideways, gripped the steering wheel and then grinned. “Yes, well, I suppose, what’s the good of earning so much money if I can’t use it. If I don’t spend it.”
“Indeed.” She laughed, wriggled out of her jacket, and raised her arms in the air, crossing them at the wrists and feeling the stretch all the way down her back. “Do you want to make love on the way?” she asked.
“What?”
“Let’s just pull over on a side road. On the way to the airport. You can have your way with me.”
“This car is too small.”
“Oh it is not. And if it is, we can make our way outside.”
“We can wait until we get to the hotel, Olivine.” He shook his head. “What has come over you?”
“I’m just being…feisty.”
“Yes, you are.” He pushed the jazz CD back into the stereo and turned the volume back down.
*****
Before they landed in Vegas, Paul had arranged a town car to drive them to his favorite hotel. When they arrived, the driver took Olivine’s hand to help her from the car and extended a shallow curtsy. Then Paul placed his hand on the small of her back and led her though a towering set of revolving glass doors.
Just inside, hundreds of live trees stretched toward sheets of skylights above. Each tree brimmed with brilliantly colored flowers that had been folded from paper and lit from within, and each trunk and branch glowed with thousands of tiny white twinkle lights. A series of brooks and streams coursed through the forest and led finally to a pool at the base of a wall, blazing with shimmering lights. Beyond that, Olivine could just see the casino floor, everything here draped in crimson red and gold with pearl accents. The air smelled of McIntosh apples and cigarette smoke, and it was cool on her skin.
After a brief stop at reception, they made their way to the bank of elevators and soared to the thirty-second floor, then padded on thick carpet down labyrinthine hallways to their room, which was blanketed with white: white marble floors, wispy white curtains, piles of white linens and pillows. Reflecting all of this was a series of mirrors, extending floor to ceiling from the bathroom to either side of the French balcony doors.
Olivine sank now onto the bed, crossed her legs, and stroked her fingers along the comforter.
“Would you like to try out the room?” she asked.
“Not much to try out. I think it meets my approval.” He nodded and turned to look at his reflection. He combed his hair downward with his fingers.
“Of course. Yes. The room is beautiful.”
“Was that your way of asking if…” He turned back to her and offered her a lopsided grin.
“Yes.”
“There’s certainly time for that this weekend, Olivine. I think it’s more important that we get you ready for your stay. To get you a proper dress, proper shoes. A nightgown. A toothbrush. Those kinds of things.”
She nodded and hopped up, then slid into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She flipped on the lights, and watched as the room blinked from utter darkness to blinding radiance, creating a glittering effect on the white marble countertops and walls. Floor-to-ceiling glass encased an enormous shower, complete with marble benches and six different shower heads at various heights. She imagined herself, just then, lying on the cold tile floor, and she imagined that Paul would come in and make love to her. That he wouldn’t be able to resist her. And then they would step into the shower, where they would make love again. But this was not to be.
“Let’s get you something to wear,” Paul said from the other side of the door, his voice taking on a deeper timbre. “Where would you like to shop?”
She regarded her reflection for a moment. Had she even brushed her hair this morning? No wonder Paul was finding it so easy to resist her. She flipped her head upside down and finger-combed her long tresses from beneath. Then she stood upright, and smoothed it into tousled waves. Better.
“Any ideas?” he prompted.
“Jimmy Choo,” she said, yanking open the door and meeting his eyes. “Ya
rrow said if I ever went to Vegas, I had to at least try on some Jimmy Choo shoes.”
He grinned and nodded. “Okay, Caesar’s Palace, then. Let’s go.” And they marched together to the elevator and back into the lobby, where they pushed through the doors of their hotel and into the blinding light of the Vegas afternoon. Paul was walking fast, and she gave a little hop to catch up.
“Try not to skip,” he reprimanded. “You’re acting a bit like a child, Olivine. I rather wish you had packed a bag.”
She took a deep breath and made an effort to stand straighter as she walked. As much as she wanted to be the playful person she was with Henry, it felt put on, suddenly. Not right. But that was okay. Things were bound to take some adjusting.
“Casinos are like malls these days,” he was saying. “More and more, every time I come. High end stores and art galleries. You can purchase anything you want here.” He paused, picking his way artfully through the crowds, along the blaring white concrete. “You certainly don’t need to enjoy gambling to enjoy Vegas,” he continued. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”
She wanted to remind him that not only did she not enjoy gambling, she also did not enjoy shopping. But she thought better of it just now.
As they walked along the strip, she considered grabbing for Paul’s hand because this is what she would have done with Henry. But Paul’s hands were shoved inside his pockets, and so she continued holding on to the crook of his arm, the way he liked her to.
They stepped out of the glittering sun and into Caesar’s Palace, and everything was dark for a moment. Olivine blinked hard to help her eyes adjust, and, she was drawn instantly to a spot of brightness along the wall. A piece of art in the window of a gallery.
An oil painting in an ornate gold frame, as tall as she, it portrayed a single candle, long and deep coral in color. At its tip was a yellow flame of the most brilliant light. The light splayed in all directions, illuminating the entire canvas, but for the background. Behind the candlelight was nothing but black. The deepest darkness. As Olivine moved closer to the piece, she saw that the wick of the candle had been painted in the shape of a tiny woman. A silhouette of a woman’s form, her arms held up and crossed at the wrists; her ankles melding to form the base of the wick. This tiny woman, responsible for all of this light.
The One Who Got Away: A Novel Page 19
