Love Remains

by Zrinka Jelic

  Dancing snowflakes flickered in the headlights, reminding him of gold dust in a fairy tale he read to Milo every night before bed. The memory calmed his thumping fingers on the steering wheel.

  He turned to Olivia and his chest clenched. Her reflection on the tinted passenger’s window showed she raked her fingers through her hair. She sat stiff spined, her brow furrowed. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and gained her attention. “Don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind. Gregory said the smallest thing can be important. If you have any theory about your memory loss, please tell me.”

  She licked her lips, leaving behind a trail of glistening moisture. “I may sound crazy. I haven’t thought this through. But let me wing it, no matter how farfetched, okay?”

  Tom cupped her chin. She closed her eyes at his finger stroking her cheek. “You won’t sound crazy.”

  Her grey eyes shone like the slivers of moon when she opened them again. “Do you believe in the alternate life theory?”

  His grip on her chin tightened. This was the last thing he expected. “You’re not talking about the website where one can create some virtual life?”

  “No.” She lowered his hand, but kept a hold on him. “What I mean is … your wife and I somehow switched places. She lives my life while I’m here in hers.”

  Tom’s stomach flipped and he stared at her. Then he burst into laughter. His first guess about the website seemed less threatening. “You’re right. That is farfetched. You can’t really believe that.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, but this is all I’ve got.” Her tone turned icy and stern, and she shoved his hand from her lap. He curbed his laughter and reconsidered. Unbelievable as it sounded, her theory somehow made sense.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed,” he said, straightening and pushing the gas pedal to follow the slow moving traffic ahead before braking again. “But how could an alternate life be possible?”

  “I’ve read many books on the topic and in every single one, there’s a higher power moving us helpless humans like chess pieces.”

  “Honey, I believe the term for those books is fiction.” Olivia scowled and looked away, but not before he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. He regretted his words and took her hand. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been sarcastic, but he knew his wife and never before had she babbled such nonsense.

  “Don’t mock me. I’m aware of the fact this may be a crazy talk. What I’m saying is your real wife will return after I fulfill some task or quest I’ve been sent to do here.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is hard for me to comprehend. If I’ve got this right, you’re on a quest.” The wheels locked as he turned onto their unplowed street. He slammed on the brakes before putting the car right into a snow drift. “Ugh! First snowstorm always catches the city by surprise. They are unprepared and everyone forgets how to drive in these conditions as if winter never happened before.” He turned to Olivia, her white knuckles clutching to the seatbelt. “My apology — I wasn’t prepared for the hard braking. Go on.”

  “All I know is some games are meant to be played until the end and I’ve yet to discover my purpose.” She paused, averted her glance to her lap. He placed his hand over hers, stopping her twiddling thumbs. Her nervous gesture was a signal she had more to say. After years of marriage, her gestures were as familiar to him as his own face. He decided patience was his best bet. She needed time to open up to him on her own.

  Reluctantly he let go of her hand, pushed the button on the garage clicker and turned the car onto their driveway. Thank God for SUVs. Plows would not clear their side street until the morning and, as usual, block the foot of the driveway. He would shovel it then. “All right, honey. What can I do to help?”

  She stared at the garage door gliding up then turned to him. “Since you know everything about me, I think it would be only fair of you to tell me things about yourself.”

  He parked inside the two-car garage and turned off the engine. The seat leather squeaked beneath him when he leaned back. “Yes, it’s only fair. What would you like to know?”

  She blinked, meeting his gaze then a soft smile crept to her lips. “At first I thought you may be an immigrant, was I right?”

  “Why would you assume that?” He returned her smile.

  “Your name, Tomislav Medar. It’s unusual, not something I’ve heard before.”

  “You’re half right. Both my parents are from Croatia and so is my name. My father came here in the early seventies. My mother followed him two years later, with my sister and brother who were six and four years old at the time. I arrived about nine months later.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened as his words sunk in. “You were born nine months after your mom came here.”

  “Yes. Like our Milo, I was a ‘surprise’ baby.” He rolled a low chuckle. “They didn’t plan to have more children, but they hadn’t seen each other in over two years. Can you blame them?”

  Olivia turned away from him and played with the buttons on the passenger door. “They must love each other very much.”

  Sadness washed over Tom, making him sigh heavily. “My father passed away eight years ago, on Mother’s Day. My family is still healing.”

  The touch of Olivia’s hand on his sent warmth through him. “My father was killed in a car accident over twenty years ago. In a strange way, I’m still trying to get over the grief. Don’t know if I ever will.”

  Tom nodded, hoping she’d change the topic to something lighter.

  “You and your wife didn’t plan to have children?”

  Her question jolted him. My wife and I? “We — you and I — planned on having children, only not as soon. But when the doctor confirmed our little stick was right, we were ecstatic. We fell in love with our baby in an instant.” He opened the driver’s side and put one foot on the concrete garage floor. “Let’s talk about this over dinner. Can you smell it?”

  She too stepped out of the vehicle. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time. It smells delicious. I’m starving.”

  Before he reached the garage side door leading into the house, she stopped him. “Where did we meet?”

  One hand on the doorknob, he smiled at the fond memory. “In the campus library, by the entrance there was a huge photocopier. You came in and scanned the room as if searching for someone. When I saw you, I said something like, ‘How can a man concentrate with so many girls around? What a gorgeous girl.’”

  A grin lit her pretty face. “That was you?”

  Tom gasped and hope kindled in him. “You remember?”

  “I remember someone said those words, but that was it. I never dated the guy or knew who said it. Until now.”

  “You gave me the dirtiest look ever and left. I ran after you and we had a coffee in the cafeteria.”

  “See? In my life I walked away. Our stories differ. I am not your wife, but I’ll pretend to be until this is over.”

  At his sigh of exasperation, she pursed her lips. How he yearned to kiss them. Her soft yet eager lips pressed against his throat and trailing down his chest during their last lovemaking, flashed in his memory. He wrapped her in his embrace and pulled her to him. “I don’t want you to pretend.”

  His lips crushed hers and she welcomed him with her warmth and a soft moan, leaning into him. Her hungry kiss reminded him of their first date when he’d taught her the difference between lust and love. He pulled away, and judging by her pouty lips and closed eyes, he left her wanting more. “Why are we standing here in the freezing garage? Let’s go in.”

  He opened the door, letting the aroma of the tarragon and sweet onion he used in the stew linger in the air and make his mouth water. Sounds of cartoons coming from the television set mixed with the piercing noises of Milo’s toys.

  Olivia unzipped her long coat. “Don’t you think it’s ironic?”

  He narrowed his gaze. Uh-oh, would her story differ from his again? “What is?”

  “Couples usually meet on single’s cruis
e or at weddings, and you and me next to the Xerox machine.”

  Her comment brought relief to his mind and a smile to his lips. “Not ironic at all. After two years of dating and five years of marriage, we still love each other. That’s what’s important, not where we met.”

  He opened the double French doors and stepped into the living room.

  Jason halted, holding his red light-saber in mid-air. Pivoting, the babysitter pulled his Darth Vader mask off his face. “Your Mommy and Daddy are home.”

  Lights on Milo’s blue saber went out and the toy ceased making battle noises. His plastic Jedi cape swished around him as he ran to them. “Mommy, Daddy, I had fun with Jason. He knows how to play Star Wars.”

  “I can see that, but you’ll have to continue playing Jedi some other day,” Tom said, picking his son up. He smiled at the two babies in the playpen. Jason’s girl must’ve had a growth spurt. “Looks like Rosie and Yasmin are having a ball, chewing on their teething toys, but they need to go to bed and your bedtime is soon, too. Say goodbye to Darth and Yasmin, you’ll see them soon.”

  “Oh my God.” Olivia stepped in front of Jason, creasing her forehead. “Aren’t you the rebellious teenager two doors down?”

  Jason’s thin lips twitched in an awkward smile and his cheeks reddened. “Not rebellious since I’ve become a daddy. Life taught me a lesson.”

  She kept inspecting his face. “But you’re only fifteen years old.”

  Bafflement reflected in the young man’s expression as he frowned, but a proud smile replaced his scowl. “I’m almost twenty one and will be graduating high school. Yeah, I’m behind, but if it weren’t for you and Tom, who knows where I’d be. Messed up on drugs, more than likely I’d be lost in the system.” Concern filled his features as his eyebrows drew closer. “Are you all right, Olivia?”

  Her breath sped and she darted her glance from Jason to Tom. “The time must’ve shifted when I was transported here. What year is this?”

  “It’s two thousand and thirteen.” The words dragged out of Jason’s mouth. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

  Tom handed money to Jason and ushered him out of the living room, puzzlement clearly written on the young man’s face. “She’s fine, just a bit confused.”

  For the first time, he doubted his own words and her theory of switching places with his real wife seemed best explanation.

  “Mr. Medar, you overpaid me again.” Jason’s voice broke Tom’s moment of doom.

  Tom raised his hands and shook his head at Jason’s fingers holding a twenty dollar bill. “It’s quite all right. You’ve earned it coming here on such a short notice.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Medar.” After pocketing the money, Jason took his jacket and Yasmin’s bundle bag out of the coat closet. “We’ll be off now.”

  Tom set the dining table while Jason got his daughter ready. Not that he needed to remind Jason of the court’s order and the condition under which he was granted custody of his baby, but as his attorney, he was there to enforce it. “Stay in school and keep up your grades.”

  “Of course, Mr. Medar.” Jason ruffled Milo’s hair. “I had fun with the kids, good night.” He then turned to Olivia. “Good night, Olivia. Hope you feel better.”

  She nodded, her stare fixed at the plain wall.

  Tom placed a soft kiss on her temple. “Let’s eat like a family.” He turned to Milo. “Son, put your toys away, it’s dinner time.”

  “I know him as this kid in black clothes, his face buried in the deep hood of his sweatshirt, and he never looks people in the eye.” Olivia nodded toward the door of the living room Jason had left through. “What made him snap out of it?”

  “His girlfriend wanted to put their baby up for adoption. He wanted to keep it. His parents employed me as his legal counselor. It wasn’t easy, but I convinced the judge and got Jason into rehab. He’s come a long way.” Tom rubbed his palms, scanning the set table. Right, food could be served. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He stepped into the spacious kitchen, warmed up the jar of homemade puréed baby food and poured some in the bowl. Under the circumstances, asking Olivia to prepare a meal for Rosie might be too much.

  “Hope everyone’s hungry,” he announced, placing the filled plates on the table. When he picked Rosie up from her playpen, he couldn’t help it but blow a raspberry on her little exposed belly. His baby girl giggled, which enticed him to repeat the action.

  He placed Rosie in her highchair at the table and caught Olivia’s grin. His heart warmed. “You enjoyed watching that display?”

  She covered her mouth with a napkin and stifled a chuckle. “I did. Usually if I saw parents do that in public it would disgust me.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “This life must be growing on me.”

  Milo stepped to her and tugged her elbow. She turned to him. He held a drawing in front of her face. “I made this for you to make you feel better. Do you like it?”

  “I — ” She took the picture of four stick figures in her hands and her eyebrows rose, then cast a pleading look to Tom.

  He sat next to Olivia. “Mommy loves it. Why don’t you tell her all about it?”

  Milo didn’t need further encouragement. He slapped the paper on the table and wiggled his way onto Olivia’s lap. “This is Daddy and you and me and this here is Rosie in her stroller … ”

  Tom chuckled and scooped a spoonful of blended food, feeding it to Rosie. The baby polished off her bowl by the time her chatty brother finished describing his picture.

  The initial, uncomfortable expression on Olivia’s face had changed to amusement. She wrapped her arm around Milo and said, “Very creative.”

  Tom patted Milo’s chair. “Eat now. Your dinner is getting cold.”

  The boy kissed Olivia’s cheek before sliding into his seat. She smiled and smoothed his hair.

  Holding a bottle of red wine over her glass, Tom paused. “Hmm, Gregory didn’t mention if your condition would worsen with the consumption of alcohol.”

  She raised her glass toward the bottle. “Please pour, I could use it.”

  Tom smiled and tilted the bottle until red liquid filled her glass. “One drink at dinner won’t hurt.”

  Dinner continued with its usual pace and Milo’s ceaseless chatting, trying to engage Olivia in a knock-knock joke she didn’t quite get, but chuckled all the same.

  Tom stacked her empty bowl with his. “I’m glad you liked my stew.”

  With a sigh, Olivia leaned back in her chair and patted her stomach. “Do you always eat such rich dinners? I meant to hit the gym later but in all of this craziness, I forgot.”

  “You work out in the mornings. There’s a rec room in the basement.” Tom carried a stack of dirty dishes to the sink.

  Olivia’s hurried steps followed him across tiled floor. “I’ll take care of the kitchen if you put the kids to bed.”

  He surveyed the counters. Baby food splattered the front and inside of the microwave. A block of parmesan cheese rested on the grater. Dirty pots and pans waited in the sink. Clean dishes needed to be unloaded from the dishwasher.

  “Putting them to bed was always your duty. I come in later for a goodnight kiss and read a story to Milo. But if you’re not up to it tonight, you can clean this mess.” He should feel guilty for not doing the cleaning, but by offering to help, Olivia showed interest in being a part of the family and he didn’t want to stop her.

  Half an hour later, Tom tiptoed out of Milo’s room, relieved his son had not complained much about his dad putting him to bed. Tom smiled at his sleeping child and pulled the door half closed.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he treaded across the carpeted stairs toward his study. It had been quite a day and fatigue crept over him, but he needed to go over his opening statement one more time. He peered through the glass door. A dim light above the stove illuminated a now clean kitchen. The way Olivia liked it. The still and quiet house suited his racing mind. Olivia must have retired, too.

  He contin
ued to the den, doubling as his home office. At the pull of the string on the desk lamp, soft light washed the small room. Plopping himself on the black leather couch, he raised the stack of papers to his face, but couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand.

  Olivia’s alternative life theory wouldn’t leave him. Her appearance was the same. And so was her sexy aura and her poise. The door to his study opened and he snapped his gaze from the blurry words on the page. Olivia stood in the doorframe. Her sheer nightie clung to her like a second skin. In an instant, he hardened.

  She approached with slow steps, a mischievous smile gracing her lips and unmistakable hunger in her eyes. She straddled him and slid the papers from his hands. “This can wait.”

  Need reflected in her sultry voice as well as her kiss.

  “I want you, Tom.” She locked her lips with his, her tongue working magic on him.

  Powerless to her passion, Tom welcomed her advances, but his mind screamed at him to stop her from coming on too strong. It was easy to shed the clothes and have sex. Hell, he’d done it in the past. Hadn’t he taught her that opening her heart and soul to him meant being truly naked? He’d accept nothing less than love. With great difficulty, he cupped her head and pushed her back. Her lips were red and puffy from hard kissing. Confusion flashed in her glossy eyes and her breath caught.

  “Are you still pretending to be my wife?”

  She sat straight and frowned, then shrugged. “I guess.”

  Her nonchalant tone was like a cold shower and he sat up, too, dislodging her from his lap. “Go to bed, Olivia. I’ve got lots of work to do.”

  “What’s wrong? You gave me such a wonderful kiss in the garage. I couldn’t get it off my mind. I thought this is what you wanted.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, hiding her erect nipples from his view.

  Tom stood up and rubbed his hands over her bare arms. “I do, only I prefer love over lust. I refused you for the same reason the very first time in the university.”