An Ever Fixéd Mark

by Jessie Olson

  “Tonight was the first time I saw her since… well probably about ten years. I didn’t see Sara much after graduation. She went off to New York. I went to Cambridge…”

  “Then she found Jesus,” Lizzie stopped herself with another sip. “I lost touch with Sara, too. We really don’t have much in common any more… other than the fact we come from the same small town. She invited me to her wedding, which was weird. All growing up we talked about being one another’s bridesmaids. Then when I went, I was a guest… and didn’t know anyone… and everyone was so young. I could never have gotten married that young. I’m glad I didn’t.”

  “Was there someone you wanted to marry then?”

  Lizzie laughed. “No,” she shook her head and took one more sip that warmed and tingled her senses.

  “I’m glad,” he moved back the hair that cascaded over her shoulder.

  Lizzie shook her head, uncertain if that was a compliment. She looked up and met his eyes again, feeling a strong urge to lean toward him… but it was still very strange and odd. The reality of her teenage years wasn’t melting too easily into her adult world. Ben took her empty glass and went back to the counter to fill it.

  Lizzie bounced her knee nervously, trying to think of what to say. She was unable to relax and appreciate the moment. “How’s your brother?”

  Ben set down the wine bottle and paused for what seemed a lengthy moment, “Oliver is well.” The wine was slowing Lizzie’s perception.

  “Did he go to his reunion?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “What is he doing? Is he a lawyer or something? I remember arguing with him on the debate team. He was really good at that sort of thing.”

  Ben sat back on the sofa and handed the glass back to Lizzie. “He’s a professor of biology at a small college in California.”

  “Wow. You’ve both done your parents proud. Are they still in the area?” she swallowed more wine to wash down her awkward questions.

  “No. They passed away.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Lizzie was suddenly sobered by her foolish oblivion. “Then… if Oliver is across the country… where do you spend holidays and… family occasions?”

  “It was pretty quiet fifteen years ago. I’m used to being on my own.”

  “Oh. I just assume everyone has a big family like me. Not that I don’t know it’s different… did you have turkey all by yourself on Thursday?”

  “I didn’t have turkey.”

  “Are you a vegetarian?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Oh,” Lizzie pouted and allowed herself another sip from her glass.

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “No,” Lizzie breathed in uncertainly. She felt as though her conversation was becoming lame. Maybe it was just her concentration fading from multiple glasses of wine. Or maybe it was her incessant need to talk when she was nervous.

  She didn’t know why she was so nervous. She had become much more comfortable in her body in recent months. Especially when there was wine in her system. It was almost as if she was back in high school… and yet this was Ben Cottingham. Ben. The boy who was a puppy dog to Sara for all those years. She took pity on him. She never feared him. Why did he make her hairs stand on end now?

  She looked back and saw his smile and the freckles that went across his cheekbones. He moved her hair back from her shoulder again and took the wine glass from her hands. She didn’t notice him set it down, only aware of the kiss that came so silently, suddenly, and hungrily towards her. She lost herself in the movement of his lips, slowly opening her mouth and relaxing into the sensation that spread down her spine. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer into his kiss, leaving it only to catch her breath and go back again. She leaned towards him, pushing him against the sofa and forgetting all the foolish thoughts of her conversation.

  In the next breath, he slid his hand up the inside of her dress. He left her lips and kissed along her neck and shoulder as his hand found the top of her stockings. “Elizabeth,” he breathed against her neck. She felt her heartbeat speed up with the articulation of her full name. She found his lips and kissed him as she reached behind to unzip her dress. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact she saw herself differently that allowed her to see him differently. Maybe it was only one night. But she didn’t care. Not in that moment. For that moment, one night was just enough.

  *****

  Lizzie stared at the ceiling lit by the sun aggressively peaking through the curtains. Her limbs itched with an exhilaration that seemed to contradict the few hours of actual sleep she had, coupled with the multiple glasses of wine she consumed. A smile curved across her chin as she breathed in the memory of the hours before sleeping. She never thought that Benjamin Cottingham, a boy from Coldbrook, would delight her so very much. Her cheeks burned beyond pink as she thought about his touches and kisses and unspoken awareness of what made her feel so… alive.

  It didn’t bother her that the pillow beside her was empty. There was some relief in the lack of an awkward morning and reality. She didn’t know if her conversation would have flowed as readily without so many glasses of wine… or if she wanted to face the uncertainty of the next step. She was perfectly content with his wordless exit and her solitude in the morning. She closed her eyes and let a few more memories resonate throughout her senses. The evening was a success. It went much better than she hoped. She pursed her lips to curve her grin more wickedly as she rolled over and breathed in his scent off the empty pillow. It was the sort of fun that she hadn’t thought the evening would lead to. Ben was pretty good company. His conversation was interesting and humored her after Sara’s annoying questions. He made the whole evening worthwhile.

  Lizzie wondered why she had never really seen him in high school. She knew he was there… always there, following Sara around with those gray green eyes. Did he ever look at Sara with that hunger she felt against her lips? Lizzie was oblivious to such things in high school. Probably. Sara was always the porcelain beauty with her ebony hair and blue eyes. And her perfectly proportionate hourglass. The only boy who never gave her a second glance was Dan Stewart.

  Lizzie laughed to herself about that. She took Delany’s phone number and the promise to find each other on Facebook to continue their conversation at a later date. Dan even bellowed something about having Lizzie over for dinner after the holidays. How ironic that her best friend from Springs Regional didn’t even say goodbye. She wondered if Ben would try to contact her and continue their conversation or start a new one. Lizzie shook her head, deciding she wasn’t going to open that door just yet. Her heart wasn’t ready to fasten itself on any new affection. The one night was perfect enough.

  She took a quick shower and got dressed in the jeans and sweater she packed in her bag. She didn’t really remember bringing her bag from the car… but maybe she had. There was so much wine and a delirium of a wickedly good evening filtering out the other details. She paused in front of the mirror as she brushed out her wet hair and saw the healthy flush of her cheeks. She saw the twenty pounds that dissatisfied her before the start of her evening, lingering at her waist and on her hips. Yes, she was glad he wasn’t there in the morning light to see those apparent truths.

  She twisted her damp hair into a braid and noticed a blemish at the base of her neck. Had she gone the whole evening with the pink spot so glaringly obvious against her pasty skin? Lizzie furrowed her brow at her reflection, noticing a twin blemish by its side. They weren’t irritating… except with their obviousness. Two giant blotches on the curve of her neck. She shook her head, forcing her self doubt out of her mind. It obviously didn’t matter to Ben.

  She grabbed her dress off the floor and packed her other belongings into her bag. She felt compelled to make the room look respectable when she left – even though she knew it would be cleaned not long after she closed the door. Her tidiness compulsion prompted her to put the wine glasses back on the counter by the bottle
, still half full. Ben’s glass looked as though he hardly took a sip. Lizzie still let herself smile. It hadn’t just been the wine.

  Chapter Two

  Lizzie watched the cursor blink on her computer. She wasn’t interested in the minutes she was typing from the development committee meeting or the hours of invitation list pruning that awaited her after lunch. It was a busy Monday, but not very conducive to committed focus. She let her eyes wander towards Richard’s office. He was busily discussing a new fundraising project with Dr. Chiang, the chief cardiac surgeon.

  Lizzie knew her boss’ attention was enraptured by the beautiful doctor and wouldn’t notice her distraction from work. She saved the document and switched screens over to the Internet. She checked her email, which included photos of bridesmaid dresses from Nora and Delany’s friend request from Facebook. Lizzie logged onto Facebook to accept Delany. She glanced over her profile and pictures from marathons and her wedding to Dan. She was really striking, no surprise she won the heart of SRHS’s boy wonder. Lizzie read through her interests and activities and realized after running they might not have much to discuss.

  Lizzie returned to the news feed and read through the minutiae of everyone’s day. Sara posted a cheesy proclamation of how happy she was to see so many friends at the reunion. She wrote a similar comment on Lizzie’s wall… and Ben’s. Lizzie clicked on Ben’s profile. She couldn’t tell if he logged on since leaving her Sunday morning. Lizzie dared the thought he might have checked her online personality… but there was no proof either way. His wall had a few more comments from people she didn’t know, much less recent than Sara’s vapid ardor. Most comments were idle hellos or thanks for an add. Nothing substantial enough to give a clue about what he did when he wasn’t at work or a reunion… or with whom he might be doing them.

  She clicked on his handful of photos. Someone tagged him in something from his MIT days. He was a grainy black and white head at the back of a crowd… with a hairstyle that resembled his shaggy high school curls more than the neatly trimmed coif he wore the other night. The other pictures were from a picnic, with various persons. Maybe from his company? Maybe a group of friends? There was one young woman in a couple of the pictures. A pretty blonde with blue eyes and a skinny waist. Of course.

  Lizzie clicked on his friends list. She recognized the names of the faces she saw the other night… including Sara. She saw his brother’s name and tried to click on his profile. Oliver set privacy options that excluded her from seeing it. The picture showed the older Cottingham didn’t look much different than she remembered, with his dark hair and dark eyes. He was straddled across a bicycle, next to a statuesque dark skinned woman also seated on a bike.

  Not much. She went back to Ben’s photos, appreciating the freckles that went over his nose. She didn’t want to like him that much… but she couldn’t stop her heart beating more quickly with another glance at his gray green eyes.

  She signed out of Facebook and clicked over to Google. She typed in his name. There were a couple publications in vocabulary about computers she couldn’t understand. She found his company website, which also required some element of translation. She understood there was a medical link to his computer business. She also knew that he was the founder and CEO. He had an impressive career… and no doubt bank account.

  There was a Ben Cottingham in a WWI roster. And a Dr. Benjamin Cottingham came up a few times… but with very few details. Both were much too old to be him. Lizzie couldn’t remember if his father was named Benjamin. In fact, she really couldn’t remember his father at all.

  She typed in Oliver’s name. His college appeared, as well as his course listings from the previous spring. She found a syllabus for environmental studies, as well as several papers he had written on the environmental impact of plastics.

  “Did you have a good Thanksgiving, Lizzie?” Dr. Chiang passed her desk on the way out of Richard’s office.

  “I did, thank you,” Lizzie offered up that habitual smile. “And yourself?”

  “Quiet,” Dr. Chiang retrieved her coat from the rack. Lizzie nodded at the small talk, wondering why the doctor suddenly expressed an interest in her holiday. She always knew Dr. Chiang, as she was undoubtedly the most attractive of the department heads. She was also incredibly young. But no one, not even Richard, was bothered by that fact. Her bright blue eyes triggered admiration from everyone with whom she spoke. “Richard said you have a connection to the Fulton Foundation.”

  Lizzie’s cheeks pinkened at the expectation. “Well, I work at the Fulton House on weekends,” Lizzie wondered how much of an age difference there was from Dr. Chiang, how much more accomplished she was in her thirties than Lizzie who typed up minutes and gave tours for minimum wage at a museum. Nothing half so impressive as running a cardiac department. “I’ve met a few of the Fultons when they came to see the house. Gerard Fulton came to speak to the guides one afternoon about his family history. He’s probably the only one I can say I know… and even then…

  “Would you feel comfortable sending him an invitation to the gala?” Dr. Chiang buttoned her coat and looked at Lizzie with those blue eyes. Lizzie was aware of Richard listening through the door. “We would like to get him interested in the hospital – as a funder for the new cardiac center.”

  “Of course,” Lizzie smiled, even though she thought Gerard Fulton was a spoiled little boy in the body of a 46-year-old, who really had no sense of history beyond the longevity of his family name.

  “Great,” she smiled back, fueling Lizzie’s confidence. “You’ll let me know if he responds?”

  “I will, Dr. Chiang,” she let herself be charmed by the blue eyes.

  “Thanks Lizzie,” Dr. Chiang lingered a friendly glance before walking out of the office. Lizzie looked back at the computer, no longer interested in Oliver Cottingham or the internet. She felt a sense of purpose and opened the invitation list to add Gerard Fulton.

  *****

  Lizzie watched the juices ooze out of the tomatoes and across the sizzling pan. She added oregano and garlic before stirring them all up again. “Hey,” Meg came into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

  “Hey,” Lizzie didn’t look away from the pan. “Stranger.”

  Meg pulled the orange juice out of the refrigerator. “Yeah,” Meg filled her glass before returning the carton to its shelf. “Sorry to leave you alone this weekend.”

  “Jackie got back Sunday,” Lizzie stirred her mixture again.

  “Even better,” Meg took a gulp of her juice.

  “Where did you go?”

  Meg bit her lip. “Alec’s,” she sighed out slowly.

  “I thought you guys were finished.”

  “We were,” Meg took another drink and set the glass by the sink. “But…”

  Lizzie stirred her pan, choosing not to say what came into her mouth. She knew she couldn’t criticize Meg for the frailty of her heart or its poor choices.

  “I needed a couple books for the thesis,” Meg argued. “He offered to loan them to me...”

  “So you stayed for three, four days?”

  “Lizzie, I forgot how much I like talking to him… and kissing him.”

  Lizzie watched the juices run together and wondered if her cheeks resembled their color. “So you’re back together?”

  “Sort of…”

  “Are you happy?”

  “I don’t know,” Meg shrugged. “What are you making for dinner?”

  “Just sauce for spaghetti,” Lizzie looked back at her pan. “There’s enough for you – and Jackie, if she wants any.”

  “How was the reunion?” Meg asked quickly before Lizzie could turn the conversation backwards.

  “I saw some old friends. I danced. It was a nice night.”

  “Did your cousin show?” Meg got the orange juice again.

  “No,” Lizzie turned the heat down under the pan.

  “What about your friend who has lots of babies and is married to the repressed homosexual?”<
br />
  “Meg!” Lizzie tried to restrain her laughter.

  “Was she there?”

  “She was,” Lizzie bit on her smile. “We didn’t talk much though.”

  “Then who did you talk to?” Meg softened her curiosity, obviously seeing something Lizzie wasn’t able to conceal from her expression.

  “This guy Ben,” Lizzie tucked her hair behind her ear and picked up the wooden spoon to poke once more at her mixture.

  “Did you talk to him in high school?”

  “Actually, he used follow Sara around all the time.”

  “Oh.”

  Lizzie accepted her misinterpretation and concentrated on her dinner. Meg watched as she put the spaghetti into the boiling water and tilted her head. “So what else happened?”

  “Um…” Lizzie faded as the smile she couldn’t prevent crept onto her face.

  “Did you get laid?”

  “Meghan,” Lizzie laughed at her attempt to scold her friend as the slam of the front door echoed up the stairs and through the dining room into the kitchen. “Jackie is home.”

  “Who cares? That Ben guy?”

  “Yes,” Lizzie let Meg see her smirk as Jackie came into the kitchen. “Hi,” Lizzie offered.

  “Hi,” their third roommate muttered as she grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and left the kitchen.

  “I’m guessing she doesn’t want spaghetti,” Meg stuck a finger in the sauce, tasted it, and met Lizzie’s eyes. “Do you think you’ll see him again?”

  “He’s nice… but it was just one night,” Lizzie cautioned, not wanting to get swept up in Meg’s manic concept of romance. “It was great sex, but it’s not going to be a relationship.”

  “You don’t think you’ll want to get together for more great sex?” Meg lingered by the stove.