The Opportunist

by Tarryn Fisher

  I glare at him because I don’t want to think about his fancy pants girlfriend just now AND I’ve never even eaten red velvet cake.

  When he goes on and on about it, I pick up a handful of batter and fling it toward his face.

  I miss of course, and it lands on the wall behind his head. Caleb turns to look at it.

  “You know,” he says with surprising calm, “you really need to work on your aim.”

  Before I know what is happening, he turns his entire bowl upside-down over my head.

  I am dripping brown batter all over the floor, laughing so hard I can barely stand. I reach for the counter to steady myself and feel my feet slip out from underneath me. Caleb reaches out a hand to grab me, and instead of accepting his help, I try to smear batter on him. I smash it into his face. He yelps, and in seconds, my tiny kitchen is a war zone. We throw eggs, flour and oil, and when those run out—we launch handfuls of chocolate chips at each other. At some point, I tackle him, and we go sliding to the floor. We are laughing so hard, tears start leaking from my batter encrusted eyes. I am leaning over him, as he lays sprawled on his back. There is egg on his nose, and both of his eyebrows are caked in flour. I can’t imagine what I must look like. The laughter is suddenly sucked from our throats as we realize the awkwardness of our position. We could kiss. Like in the movies.

  I hover above him for a second waiting to see if he will make a move. His eyes are undoubtedly on my mouth and I am breathless in anticipation. My heart is pressed somewhere against his ribcage and I wonder if he could feel it beating around bombastically.

  “Olivia,” he whispers.

  I swallow.

  “We still have a cake to bake.”

  Baking? I look around at the mess and groan. How can he think about baking?

  Two hours later we are sitting on the floor of my tiny balcony, still covered in batter, eating Caleb’s cake. I pull a chunk of goop from my hair and toss it over the railing. Caleb drops another slice in my hand.

  “Favorite book?” he asks.

  “Madam Bovary.”

  He snickers.

  “Favorite pastime?”

  “Depression.”

  “Favorite pastime?” he asks again. We’ve been playing this game for the last hour. It’s very one sided since he can’t remember his favorites.

  I scratch my chin. “Eating.”

  “Favorite memory?”

  I pause at this one. All of my favorite memories include him.

  “There was this…guy…he planned out a super-extraordinary date. He sent me on a scavenger hunt and I had to figure out answers to clues like, where our first date was and where the best place to buy a bra was. Each time I went to one of the places in the clues, there would be a gift and another clue waiting for me. It ended with me going to the place where we had our first kiss. He’d set up a table with dinner and music. We danced. It was….” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

  Caleb is quiet. When I turned to look at him, he is staring up the sky.

  “What was his name?”

  I shake my head.

  “No way.”

  “Why? Rock my world-tell me….”

  “The stars look silver tonight,” I say changing the subject. “Maybe soon you’ll remember your favorites,” I say quietly. He shrugs.

  “Or, I’ll just make new favorites. Starting with you.” This should make me excited, but it just reminds me of the ticking time bomb our relationship resembles.

  “Can I be your favorite girl?”

  “You already are, Duchess.”

  My vision blurs and my heart does a little skip. Did I just imagine that?

  “What did you just call me?”

  Caleb looks embarrassed.

  “Duchess, but don’t ask me why, it just popped into my head. Sorry.”

  I stare straight ahead and hope he doesn’t notice the horror on my face.

  “No, no it’s fine,” I say softly. But it isn’t. Duchess was his nickname for me in college.

  “I better get going,” he says, standing up quickly.

  I want to ask him if he’s remembered something but I’m too scared.

  I walk him to the door and he leans down to peck my cheek.

  “Bye,” I say.

  “Bye.” And then he walks into the stagnant night air, leaving me alone.

  He is going to remember and soon! I have to think of a way to buy myself some more time.

  Duchess thinks about getting drunk, but calls Cammie instead.

  “Well it’s about time!” her voice sounds far away.

  “Sorry, Cam, I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy with what? And I thought you gave up eating chips.”

  My crunching stops. I hold my half eaten Dorito in my cheek and say nothing.

  “You’re up to something,” Cammie says after a minute. “Tell me what it is…”

  “Hmmm…uhhh…” I mumble. I can hide nothing from this girl. She has gossip radar.

  “I saw Caleb, Cammie,” I blurt out, biting my nail, nervously.

  There is silence on the other end of the line. She knows I wouldn’t joke about something like that.

  “He has amnesia and doesn’t know who I am.”

  I hear her sigh.

  “Olivia…..tell me you didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “ARE YOU INSANE?” I hold the phone away from my ear.

  “Cammie, when I saw him, I felt things just as strongly as I did when we were together. It’s like everything is still the same and the past three years didn’t happen.”

  “You have a right to love him, that’s not something you can control. What you do not have the right to do is take advantage of him…. AGAIN!” Where has this mature little monster come from?

  “I liked you better as a freshman.”

  “Yeah, well, some of us grow up, Olivia, and some of us play the same tired games forever. Have you ever thought that maybe you are not together because you aren’t supposed to be? Let go!”

  “I can’t,” I say softly. Cammie’s voice is gentler this time.

  “Olivia, you can have any man you want. Why him? Why is it always about Caleb?”

  “Because….because I didn’t need anyone until I met him.”

  “You know he’s going to find out.”

  “I have to go,” I say. I don’t want to think about that. Tears start oozing from my eyes.

  “I love you Olivia, be careful.” I hang up feeling like my stomach is full of rocks. He forgot me. I can make him remember not what I did to him, but what he felt for me.

  I wander to my closet, reach up to the top shelf and pull down a dusty box. Laying it on the carpet, I gently remove the lid and stare at its contents. There are a couple of envelopes stuffed with letters, some pictures, and a small wooden box with a flower painted on its lid. I reach for the box and open it. My hand sifts through the jumble of memories, a keychain, a CD, and a frayed book of matches. My hand stills when it brushes against the most important keepsake. I jiggle the box until everything moves aside and I can see the shiny oval penny.

  “You,” I say accusingly, picking it up and rolling it between my fingers. "This is all your fault."

  Chapter Six

  The Past

  “I’m not getting in the pool! It is freezing!”

  “It’s November in Florida, Olivia. It’s seventy degrees out. Besides, it’s a heated pool. Man up.” Caleb was wading around in his boxers in the turquoise water of the campus swimming pool. I was trying to avoid looking at his muscles.

  “You can’t manipulate me into the pool by making a sexist comment,” I said, leaning down to splash him in the face. He grabbed my wrist before I had time to withdraw.

  Our eyes locked.

  “Don’t,” I warned. For second I didn’t think he’d have the guts. Next thing I know I was tumbling headfirst into the freezing water.

  I came up gasping for air, my hair wrapped unbecomingly around my face. Caleb peeled it away l
aughing.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” I gasped, shoving him on the chest. It felt like I was pushing on hot rocks.

  “You look good wet,” he said. “It would probably be easier to swim if you took off some of your clothes.”

  Shooting him a searing look, I started a breaststroke toward the side of the pool.

  “Ahh, not one for fun I see.” His voice was light when he said it but there was a definite challenge in his tone.

  “Screw it,” I mumbled, stopping a foot away from the ladder. I was the type of girl that would ‘jump off of a bridge’ to spite my friends.

  I was wearing my good underwear anyway. I ducked under the water and shed my polyester skin like a snake. I resurfaced seconds later with just my skivvies on.

  Caleb unconsciously mouthed “wow.”

  “To your fun,” I toasted him with my sopping wet clothes and then threw them at his head. He dodged and circled around to where I was treading water.

  “Nice lace,” he smirked, eyeing me without shame.

  “Can you not make it so obvious that you’re looking?” I felt violated. I submerged myself under the water until only my head was visible.

  “I thought our relationship was about honesty,” he smiled.

  “Pffffff. Our ‘relationship’,” I snickered, “is based on dares and blackmail.”

  His eyes were twinkling. He had such expressive eyes. I wanted to crush that twinkle and kick him where it hurt.

  “Blackmail is such a harsh word,” he said, swimming closer.

  “You threatened to tell the school newspaper that I was the reason you missed the shot, Drake.” He was way too close for comfort now. I began peddling backwards. There was a scar at the corner of his right eye that I had never noticed before. It was just a faint crescent moon, but somehow it made him look dangerous—in a sexy way. I shook my head. These thoughts were not mine….they were Cammie’s—damn her.

  “How did you get that scar?” I asked. I was shuffling along the bottom of the pool on my tiptoes to get away from him. He absently reached a finger out to touch it.

  “I stole a pound note from my grandfather’s wallet and when he caught me, he decided to punish me with his walking stick.”

  I felt one of those, ‘this is why he’s messed up,’ moments coming on and I prepared myself to understand him.

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  I felt myself color red. I punched him on the arm as hard as I could.

  “I fell off my bike when I was twelve,” he laughed, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “A very boring story.”

  “At least it’s the truth,” I said, exasperated. “Someone like you doesn’t need to lie to be interesting.”

  “Someone like me?” he asked. “You find me interesting Libby?”

  “No, I don’t, and don’t call me Libby. You know you’re really quite simple and boring,” I said, sniffing.

  He was looking away from me into the water.

  “Did you drop a piece of your jewelry?”

  “What?” his attention had shifted so suddenly, I felt offended.

  “There’s something down there at the bottom of the pool.” He was pointing to a spot between our feet. I narrowed my eyes trying to see what he was staring at.

  “I’m not wearing any jewelry,” I said impatiently, “it’s probably just a penny or something.”

  I nudged it with my toe. It was bigger than a penny. Before he could say anything else, I ducked my head under the water to retrieve it. When my head broke the surface of the water, Caleb automatically scooted closer.

  “What is it?” he was staring at my clenched fist.

  “Let’s see,” I said theatrically, pulling my fingers slowly away from my palm. It was not jewelry. It was an old penny, flattened, and stamped with a message that entitled its bearer one free shot of affection, a kiss.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I dropped the souvenir into his palm.

  “You’re full of tricks tonight aren’t you?”

  He was laughing…always laughing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Before I could retort with something clever, Caleb reached out and scooped me around my waist. Even in the cold water, his touch felt scorching hot. He pulled me toward him and our bodies were pressed together, belly to belly, chest to chest. I was so shocked, that at first I made no protest. I hadn’t been this spatially close to another human being since I was an infant. He grinned, his eyes turning smoky with what I perceived as lust. I gave up fighting and allowed my lips to be steered toward his. This is for Cammie, I told myself. There was no ‘nice and easy’ with this boy. He grazed his tongue along the inside of my bottom lip. He was gentle at first, trying to coax my stubborn lips into some form of cooperation. I responded with the only thing I knew: frigid prudity. Caleb, undaunted by my lack of enthusiasm pulled away from me. His hands were wrapped around my waist, his fingers positioned right beneath my panty line. Our foreheads were touching and my breath was coming out in little gasps. It was embarrassing.

  “Kiss me back, Olivia.” His voice was commanding, and for a second, I felt a flare of rebellion like I did when he instructed me to put on my seat belt. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. I didn’t win that fight. I probably wouldn’t win this one either. I might not even want to win it.

  I could do it. Kissing was a no-brainer, like eating or walking. His lips came back a second time and I bent my head toward him, tilted like in the movies. I was ready this time, willing even. I jumped when we connected and his lips, which were pressed against mine, stretched into an amused smile. He laughed into my mouth. It was infuriating and incredibly sexy. I tried to pull away, but he pulled me back. The kiss. The kiss. The kiss. It was chocolate cake and fizzy passion and goose bumps. No one had ever kissed me like that before.

  Then, he did the strangest thing—he pulled away and held me at arm’s length. The spell was broken.

  “Olivia…” His voice was rough. I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear what he was going to say.

  “I have to go,” I said quickly. The water, which had been still, began rippling as I struggled over to the side of the pool. In one smooth motion, I pulled myself up and out of the water and looked down at my shivering body. I was canoodling in a pool in my underwear with the college Casanova. I was a harlot. Grabbing my wet clothes from the ground I looked around in alarm. Someone was going to see me walk back wearing wet clothes.

  “Olivia,” he said again. I refused to look at him. “Here,” he handed me his dry sweatshirt, which I accepted gratefully and pulled over my head. He opened his mouth.

  “Look, whatever you’re going to say, don’t!”

  He nodded. We walked out the gate and into the parking lot. Caleb retrieved a gym towel from his car and handed it to me. I dabbed at my face and hair and passed it back, my eyes on the floor. I was too ashamed to say anything. My behavior had been tacky. I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I ground my molars together and pressed my eyes closed.

  “Goodnight, Caleb.” I said quickly, sounding half strangled. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away. Why had he pulled away like that? The first time I’d ever let myself go, and I got a hard slap in the face.

  “By tomorrow, he’ll forget you,” I hissed to myself, “and then you can move on with your life and forget what kissing him felt like.”

  I woke up the next morning feeling as if I had swallowed a mouthful of gravel. My throat was burning and my body ached. I burrowed under my covers and tried to shut out images from the night before. They were stupid and reckless images that kept replaying themselves over and over until I wanted to scream. There was no room for mistakes in my life. I didn’t have any family or the back-spring of money. I had one shot to make something of myself and Caleb was the type of distraction that could throw my life off balance

  He called twice during the day and once after dinner. I put my phone on silent and forbade Cammie from answeri
ng it. I got dressed for class on Monday morning, still slightly green and determined to pretend that nothing had happened. We had a Sociology class together, something he probably didn’t realize since it was one of the larger classes this semester, and I sat as far to the front of the room as he sat to the rear.

  When I arrived, the auditorium was filling up quickly. Bleary eyed and dizzy, I made my way to the far left side of the building. Hidden by an overhang were five coveted seats shrouded in shadow. I wanted to hide there. Their usual occupants were the class sleepers and a guy who looked like Fred Flintstone gone Unabomber. Today I was lucky. Two seats had yet to be claimed. I began trotting across the aisles, my bag clutched in an iron grip to my side. I was halfway there when I heard my name called from the professor’s podium.

  “Miss Kaspen?”

  I froze. Professor Grubbs was addressing me through his microphone and people were turning in their seats to stare. I tried to keep walking like I hadn’t heard him.