What is Love?

by Saks, Tessa

  She sipped her wine as Rory struggled to open another bottle.

  Who knows, she thought, maybe a little more than a kiss. How much more she couldn’t say … for now, she would sit back and enjoy this moment.

  Under the brilliant stars, she felt alive and she knew there was no turning back. She was here now. All of her. Aware, as never before, and fully present.

  ***

  Sam tried again to contact Rory, but he was no longer at his old address or the using the same number. She went to their former hangouts, to all their favorite places, but still no Rory. She even called his boss, but he wouldn’t say where he was now working, as if there was a conspiracy against telling anyone where he was. Sam decided to try and wait outside her old apartment, where the phony Sam now lived. She sat in the deli across the street for several hours, and as twilight set in, she was about to give up when she spotted his motorbike pull up in front of the building.

  Sam ran down the street and crossed a safe distance away. Rory hadn’t changed, his hair looked lighter, but he was still handsome Rory. She approached with caution, tugging on her hat and putting on large sunglasses. She didn’t have a plan. Her first goal was to find him, follow him, then hopefully find out where he lived. Seeing him now, she wanted to run and throw her arms around him. Her mind imagined their bodies pressed firmly together—their tangled flesh, hot with desire.

  He set his helmet down and smiled. She smiled back before she realized his smile wasn’t for her. Directly in front of her was—her. It was Sam or Ellen, or whatever she should call her. Yes, standing here before her was the lying impostor who stole her life.

  Rory walked over and gave the impostor a big kiss, and Sam’s heart plummeted ten stories in one quick instant. They are together. That bitch!

  Sam knew Rory slept with other women. She never cared because she knew that he always dropped them after a few dates, afraid to commit, often dating many women at once. He didn’t love those other women. Rory wasn’t capable of love and a relationship. None of that mattered because she knew she had a special spot in his heart, and Sam used this to her advantage, leading him on and toying with those unacknowledged feelings.

  But seeing them together made her crazy. Technically, it was her, it was Sam he was with, so he wasn’t cheating, but she wanted to be with him, having him touch her, not the impostor. She’s stolen my man. Sam watched as he grabbed his helmet and put his arm around the impostor’s waist, her hand tucked into his back pocket, and they walked like this to the corner.

  Sam followed them down the street. She knew exactly where they were going, to her favorite coffee shop. They walked the long block, Sam trailing a safe distance behind.

  She opened the door to the shop and the crisp aroma of heavy roast coffee beans hit her instantly. The room buzzed with the sound of cups clattering and the drone of chatter broken by an occasional laugh. She lifted her sunglasses and searched through the crowd, eventually finding them in a corner, sitting in a booth, talking intimately.

  She wanted to go over to them and scream, “She’s not me!” or “She’s a phony!” and “Can’t you see? Isn’t it obvious?” And then yell at her, “You may think you’re me, but I know who you really are and I know why. You thought you could get Johnny. I’ll show you. I may be stuck in your pathetic body, but I’m not going to get dumped like you.”

  A scalding heat and hot liquid ran down her arm, interrupting her pleasurable thoughts. “What the fuck?” Sam cried out.

  “Sorry,” said the man who burned Sam with his clumsiness. He dabbed her arm with small paper towels that stuck to her wet skin, the pain heightened by his insistent rubbing. She took her sunglasses off and tried to pick off the soggy remnants. “Stop it!” she screamed, as she pushed the stupid idiot’s hands out of her way.

  “Are you burned?” he asked as Sam pressed her hand to arm.

  “Yes! Thank you very much!” she barked. “It’s sore, but I’ll live,” she said as she turned to leave, bumping against the caffeinated mob on her way out.

  “What are you doing here? Following us?”

  Sam tried to ignore the familiar voice trailing her, but she felt a firm hand grab her tender arm. “Owww!” she cried, pulling her arm free.

  Rory looked at her. “You know you’re not allowed near—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here for a latte, before some moron burned my arm—the one you are now hurting, asshole.”

  Rory’s eyes searched hers for a moment before letting go of her arm.

  She tried a softer tone. “Rory, I do want to talk to you sometime. I just need—”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Are you happy?” Sam asked, unable to refrain herself.

  “Wha … yes, yes I’m happy.”

  “How is Rufus Maximus?”

  He looked puzzled. “Good,” he said in a slow, cautious tone.

  “I still remember the day you found him and brought him home, so small and afraid of everything—a little wet ragamuffin, remember?”

  “Your private eye is very thorough.” He smiled at her. His sexy inviting smile.

  “Can I call you sometime? I miss you.” Big mistake. Sam covered her mouth, instantly regretting her words and wanting to take them back.

  Rory’s eyes darkened as the smile vanished from his face. “I’m going to ignore that.”

  Sam felt the salty sting of tears filling her eyes. She tried holding them back. “I—if I could just explain. If you would just let me …”

  Rory shook his head and turned away. He stopped, then turned back to face Sam. “I’m sorry that you feel this way. Honestly, I am—but I have nothing I want to talk to you about.”

  “She’s still seeing Johnny. She’s taking him from me.” Sam wiped her eyes. “She’s the one who’s crazy. She lost him and now she’d do anything—can’t you see, she is not me.” Sam’s voice cracked as she yelled. “She’s an impostor!”

  Rory put his hands up, blocking himself in case she lunged at him. He stepped back. “Listen, you’d better leave and calm down. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

  Sam grabbed a serviette from a table, dabbing her cheeks and eyes. “She’ll never be me. Watch her. She can’t. You should notice—of all the people in the world—you should know the difference. You should know she’s not me!” Sam cried out to his back as he walked away. “She’ll never be me …” she whispered to herself as she turned to leave. “Never.”

  She was about to leave when live jazz music began to play. She looked in the direction of where the music was coming from and noticed the small group of musicians creating the funky rhythm. Above their heads were large paintings. Sam scanned the room, spotting many similar-styled large paintings. She walked up to one and touched the textured canvas. The signature, a sloppy looped R blending into a C. She knew the artist’s work and wasn’t surprised by the name posted on the tags. Rory Chasen. Her heart beat fast with excitement. Rory finally has a solo show.

  She wanted to run up to him, throw her arms around him and squeeze him with pride. He finally did it. She wasn’t sure what was better, seeing his incredible talent or knowing that he completed his pieces and was finally satisfied enough with them to show, to share them with the world. This was a big step, an important step for his confidence. She imagined the pride he must have felt seeing his work completed, all the pieces lined up inside his tiny studio.

  She looked around, for one last glimpse of his work, when she caught his eye. She gave him a double thumbs-up flick, something they always did to each other to signal, “Way to go.”

  Suddenly aware of her instinctive error, she turned and quickly ran outside, afraid of any further consequences and pain. As she walked down the street, she had mixed feelings. She wished she could be celebrating his success with him; instead, she was heading home to an empty house, filled with servants and pretty things, but devoid of any love or life.

  ***

  Ellen stood out
side of Horvath Industries waiting for Jonathan’s car and reflecting on her experience with Rory. She blushed every time she remembered her rapture. Now that she felt more comfortable in her sexuality, more alive, she had called Jonathan, wanting to see him, to try to seduce him. She wanted a chance to show him how much he was missing by spending all his time with his wife. Ellen had picked up the phone and ordered a box of his favorite cookies, and inside the box, a simple message: “I miss you.”

  Later that morning, Jonathan phoned her. “Let’s meet for lunch,” he said. “My car will pick you up on the corner at ten after twelve.”

  Ellen stood waiting, hoping no one would spot her getting into his car. She could feel her heart beating stronger with nervous energy. His car pulled around the corner, slowing to the curb. Ellen ran to the car as the door opened slightly and climbed inside, adrenaline pulsing through her. She enjoyed being discreet. Jonathan closed the door and sat back with a wide grin.

  “I feel like a spy,” she said, as she shimmied closer to him.

  He laughed. She enjoyed seeing him relaxed and smiling again. He reached for her hand and kissed it. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

  “Me too.” She leaned over to kiss him and show her appreciation.

  “I’m sorry about ruining our weekend,” Ellen said, after finally coming up for air.

  “Never mind. I forgive you.” He leaned over and kissed her again. They kissed all the way to the restaurant until the car stopped.

  “A fast-food drive-through?” She stared out in disbelief.

  “Yes, more private. I still have to be careful. Not quite what you had in mind?”

  “No. I expected linen tablecloths and fine dining.”

  “Sorry princess, next time.” He pulled her close again, kissing her with deep passionate kisses. After several minutes, they stopped to give Weston their lunch order. Ellen looked at the choices, unable to find anything to eat. “I can’t believe they can’t make anything that isn’t dripping in fat. They must want to make me fat.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry, my dear,” Jonathan said, pinching her thigh.

  Ellen realized how it sounded. “Will I get to see you soon?” she asked, pulling away.

  Jonathan sat back, now serious. He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. God, she’s just so—” He pounded the door with his fist. “Damn this!”

  Ellen put her hand on his thigh and tried to appear sympathetic. “What is it?”

  A tap at the window interrupted them, with Weston holding their lunch order. Jonathan opened the window. “Thanks, Weston.” As the window closed, Weston went into the restaurant and Jonathan continued. “It’s Ellen. She’s driving me insane. She watches my every move. She mopes around and then goes into fits of madness. She stopped doing everything she used to love—no more church or gardening, no more charity work. She’s a completely different person.”

  “I bet you miss the old Ellen, huh?”

  “And she’s shopping like I’ve never seen—I’ve never seen the likes of it—she’s out of control, as if she’s lost her mind. And the children are embarrassed by her crazy antics. They can’t understand what’s gotten into her.”

  “What does the doctor say?”

  Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “That I should humor her, indulge her. She’s spending a bloody fortune, the bills are just starting to arrive—I think he’s in on it with her. She’s had every kind of cosmetic surgery she could get—if he hadn’t stopped her due to her medications, she’d probably look like a circus freak.”

  Ellen choked on her burger. She coughed several times until Jonathan handed her a drink and patted her back. “You okay? Here take another sip.”

  “Y … Yes. Surgery? What exactly? I’m surprised—at her age.”

  “New breasts, liposuction. Hell, I don’t know.”

  “Breasts!” Ellen cried out.

  “Yes, horrible things. It’s all wrong, as if someone put the wrong parts on her body. Some parts are old and other parts are new—I can’t explain, but it’s weird, to say the least.”

  “I just … I can’t imagine. I can’t believe …” Ellen tried to calm herself. It wasn’t her body anymore, not actually—but still! How could she do that? It wasn’t right, not for a woman her age. “Does she—does she look good?”

  “Good?” Jonathan pinched her arm. “Are you jealous?”

  Ellen pulled away. “Of course not. It’s just … you see so much of her and I never see you, I wondered …”

  Jonathan touched her cheek. “Hey, listen, I miss you. I still want to be with you. It’s just that she can’t be pushed back into another state like before, I have to be extra kind to her and indulge her. I’m asking you to still be patient—for me.”

  Ellen gazed at his pleading eyes and melted. She touched his cheek. “I’ll wait for you.”

  “Forever, my love?” he asked.

  “It better not take forever!” She slapped his face gently. “There are other men out there.”

  His smile faded. “Have you been dating?”

  Ellen flushed. “No.” She looked away, her face burning. “How can you say that?”

  “I don’t want to share you,” he confessed.

  “Then see me. Take a chance and be naughty.” Ellen rested her hand on his thigh again. “There must be a way. You’ve always been good at being sneaky …”

  Jonathan smiled and lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll come up with something—maybe another business trip. She’s having more work done to the house and she’ll have to stay and supervise while they are doing all the construction.”

  “The house! What is she doing to our … the house?”

  Jonathan laughed. “What isn’t she doing to the house? That’s more the question. She’s gotten rid of most of the furniture, replaced with some god-awful junk. Contemporary—no, postmodern is what she calls it. I call it crap. It’s awful.”

  “No! Not the …” Ellen bit her lip. “Not the antiques you loved so much.”

  “Yes, most of them. I never actually thought she would change everything. The doctor said that I should encourage her. I should have cut her off financially is what I should have done. The changes are costing a bloody fortune.”

  Ellen thought of her home, of all the beautiful pieces, chosen over years—no—decades. Just imagining any changes was heartbreaking. “What’s left—I mean, what’s still the same?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Not much really.”

  “Everything changed?” Ellen cried out. “ Just like that?”

  “You should see it. It’s hideous. She said she hired a decorator—I don’t know, it looks awful. I can’t imagine they get paid for making such a mess.”

  “She is crazy, isn’t she?” She shook her head, imagining what damage the idiot had done.

  Jonathan laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. She hosted a dinner party two weeks ago. What a complete disaster. I don’t think the Rosenthals or the Zieglers will ever accept another one of our invitations—or even want to be seen with us, for that matter.”

  “Oh, God no!” The blood drained from her face and her stomach cramped, as she imagined the reaction of her friends. She pushed her unappetizing food aside. “You had the Zieglers over? And with her so crazy—oh no. You have to fix it.” She couldn’t hide her anxiety.

  “Too late. She has alienated herself from most of society with her bizarre behavior.”

  “But your reputation, she’s destroying all that we—that you built.” She folded her arms over her chest, holding herself together from shock. Her limbs felt numb, her stomach nauseous and churning. “All that prestige; you can’t get it back.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No. She’s destroying everything she built up for herself. I think she’s hurting herself far worse than me. She was the one so consumed by all these people. Frankly, I never cared about any of them. I went along—it was fun at first, but then I got tired of all of it. I wanted to be
free from it. That’s what I love about you.” He ran his fingers along her shoulder. “You don’t need all of that. You are happy just like this, here. I could never eat here with Ellen. She’s too good for a place like this, and she’d find fifty reasons not to enjoy it.”

  Ellen’s skin tightened. “Isn’t there some way to stop her? She sounds unstable. If she’s destroying the very things that matter, can’t you stop her before she ruins everything?”

  Jonathan was about to take a bite but stopped and put his burger down. “I could have her committed, get an assessment.”

  “Yes, why don’t you? Then we could be—”

  He laughed. “I was kidding. I would never do that to her,” he said and bit into his burger. “Besides, as long as she doesn’t show signs of hurting anyone, there isn’t much I can do.”

  “There must be something. She’s out of control. You said it yourself—spending money, plastic surgery, crazy decorating—”

  Jonathan laughed. “If that’s all it takes to lock up your wife, half of the women in New York would be locked up by now.”

  “But she’s hurting herself. Don’t you see, without society—without their respect—what will she have? She can’t regain a lost reputation. Doesn’t she know that?”

  “Listen to you. Why all the concern?”

  Ellen paused. “Because I want to be with you.” She smiled. “You are with her and making excuses. It’s like you want to be with her and not me. I thought I would see you more—I see you less now. She has you completely wrapped around her finger, like a fool …”

  “Baby, I’ll figure this out soon.” He reached for his phone and called Weston to return. “It will all work out. I’ll try to get away next weekend,” he said, kissing her hand. “I promise.”

  Ellen tried to smile, but the weight of the consequences from failing to win him reminded her of the pathetic future without him. She felt her chest tighten.

  “I need you,” she whispered as she lay against his shoulder on the drive back.