Kissing Robert

by Jennifer Wilson

  “Just wrap it back up, honey, and put it back in the box,” she said quickly. “Hey, let’s turn on some Christmas music and light the fire.” Anything to distract from the moment.

  With a dramatic whoosh, the gas fireplace blazed, and soon Bing Crosby crooned from the stereo.

  Soon the tree was completely decorated. Olivia stepped back to survey it, deciding that it looked every bit as good as previous years. She gathered her arms full of greenery and began to bedeck the staircase with it. Her phone buzzed with a text and she pulled it from her pants pocket.

  I miss you it said. From Dolf. I can’t see wait to you again.

  I miss you too, she texted back. You make my heart go pitty pat.

  Yeah? Well you make my heart go KATHUNK KATHUNK. He responded.

  She laughed out loud.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Beatrice, coming to help her wind the strands through the bannister.

  “Nothing. Just a text from Dolf.”

  “Really? I hope you guys really did have a nice time.”

  “We did.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Um, well. We watched a lot of television, and ordered take out.”

  “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

  “We talked a lot. You know, just getting to know each other.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes.”

  “Brittany says…” she hesitated.

  “Yes? What does the estimable Brittany say?”

  “She says that men aren’t trustworthy. Ever. Any man.”

  “Really? Well, I don’t believe that.”

  “You don’t? Even after what Dad did?”

  “Your father is only one man, not all of them. So no, I prefer not to condemn the whole gender to such censure.”

  “I don’t believe it either.”

  “Good.”

  They continued decorating in silence then, Olivia humming along with Silver Bells. The idea that Christmas was a month away was beginning to sink in.

  “What do you want for Christmas, Mom?” Beatrice asked.

  “I want you guys to be happy,” she said, without hesitation.

  “Aw, come on. You always say that. What do you really want?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing, really. What about you?”

  “A phone?”

  “We already talked about that.”

  “Shoot. I know. Okay then…I’ll get a list together. I have a few other ideas.”

  “Bradley?” Olivia asked. “What about you, honey? What do you want for Christmas?”

  Bradley looked up from where he was playing with the nativity set, and frowned.

  “Roller skates!” he finally exclaimed.

  “Great!” Olivia said. Five year olds are so easy, she thought.

  What are you up to? Her phone buzzed again with the question from Dolf.

  Decorating for Christmas she answered. What do you want for Christmas?

  You the message stated. Just you.

  And Olivia blushed into the air.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Opening night was a maelstrom of excitement, nervousness, and sheer terror. Backstage, Olivia put the finishing touches on her makeup and checked her costume for the three-hundredth time. She sought out Tad and found him doing the same. They hugged, hearts pounding.

  “C’mon, let’s go peek at the audience!” he said, pulling her by the hand up the stairs to the stage. Together they pulled the curtains back just a hairbreadth and took turns looking out into the auditorium. Olivia spotted Dolf sitting with Beatrice and Bradley in the front row, flanked on the other side by Francine. She giggled with anticipation.

  “Is that Dolf, sitting next to Beatrice?” Tad asked. She nodded. “He’s mighty good-looking.” Tad added, smiling at her. She nodded again.

  “Hey, get downstairs,” their director, Mark, said, shooing them from the curtain. “You guys are as bad as high-schoolers!”

  They turned tail and went downstairs, laughing all the way, and as Olivia rounded the corner she ran directly into Todd, who caught her before she could back away.

  “Nice, Olivia,” he said, laughing. “Just throwing yourself at me; I knew it was only a matter of time!”

  “Back off, Todd,” said Tad, frowning. Todd released her.

  “What’s going on here,” asked Mark, coming down the stairs and assessing Tad and Olivia’s grim faces. “Is there a problem?”

  “Nope, we’re all good here,” said Todd.

  “No problem, Mark,” said Olivia. Tad nodded.

  “Good. We’ve got eight minutes until curtain. Everybody gather around!”

  Mark said a few words about his pride in them, his confidence in their ability to have a wildly successful night, and then they did a few breathing exercises.

  “Remember, everybody: project, project, project. If you’re going to make a mistake, make sure it’s a big one!”

  With that, the production began. Olivia was no expert thespian, but by the closing scene, she knew they had done well. The audience cheered and clapped, and Mark beamed. Afterwards, in the receiving line, Olivia hugged Beatrice and Francine, and then saw Dolf behind them, carrying a sleeping Bradley on his shoulder. He grinned.

  “Nice job, Fairy Mae, nice job!” he exclaimed, bending carefully to kiss her without disrupting Bradley’s position. “I’m so proud of you!”

  “Thanks,” she said, blushing. “But look at you; when did he fall asleep?”

  “About halfway through the first act,” he said.

  “Well, it’s not exactly a kids’ production,” she admitted. “Thank you for letting him drool all over your shoulder.”

  “No problem,” he said. “A little kid-drool doesn’t scare me.”

  The line was backing up behind them, so they moved ahead, promising to see her at home as soon as she was done with the meet-and-greet.

  The next three days were the same: packed house, plenty of applause and shouts of encore! Olivia had never felt so fulfilled. Dolf was in the same spot, cheering her on each night, and on the last night, they headed to the cast party at Mark’s house in high spirits. Tad met her at the door and kissed her on both cheeks, handing her a glass of rum punch.

  “Aren’t you glad I made you come to auditions?” he asked. She nodded vigorously.

  “This has been the most fun I’ve had in as long as I can remember,” she said.

  “Does that mean you’ll try out again?” Asked Mark, coming up to the group. “We’re doing Cheaper by the Dozen in the spring. Maybe your kids could even be in the cast.”

  “I love that idea!” she exclaimed.

  “I bet they’d be great little actors,” Dolf said. She nodded in agreement, finishing her glass of punch and crossing the room to get a refill. At the punchbowl, Todd approached, a half-empty vodka bottle in his hand.

  “Hey Olivia,” he said, slurring. It was obvious his celebrating had started far earlier than anyone else’s. “Is that guy your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s pretty big. Do you think he could take me?”

  “Do you want to find out?”

  “Maybe.” With that, he lurched forward, taking her shoulders in his hands and pressing his lips to hers forcefully. She shoved him away and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, recoiling.

  “Aw, c’mon Olivia,” he said, coming in for another try. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, groping her clumsily. With one swift movement, she brought her knee up with as much force as she could muster, directly into his crotch. With a cry of pain, he doubled over, unleashing a stream of curses.

  The whole encounter had taken a matter of seconds, and the realization of what had transpired hit everyone in the room at once. Dolf and Tad came quickly.

  “You touch her again, and you’ll get more than a knee to the balls, you got that?” Dolf said, leaning over Todd so as to be heard clearly. Todd nodded, clutching himself.

  “Got it,” he wheezed.

  �
�All right, Livie!” Tad exclaimed, holding up his hand for a high five. “Way to go, girl!”

  She felt triumphant, as adrenaline continued to charge through her body. She took a glass of punch and chugged it, the rum in it warming her to her toes. Dolf gripped her hand and looked down at her, pride written on his face. He bent to kiss her.

  “You’re my wonder woman,” he said.

  Todd left in a hurry. The rest of the night was a heady blur of celebration far into the night, and when the party finally broke up, Dolf drove Olivia home. Wrapped in his arms on the front porch, he kissed her again and again.

  “Wanna come in?” she murmured into his ear.

  “It’s late, baby,” he said. “And you need to get your rest.”

  “A rain check, then,” she said. “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “The kids will be with Jacob for a couple of days before Christmas,” she said. “Can we spend them together?”

  “You bet,” he smiled, and buried his face in her neck until she giggled madly.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Christmas was only days away, and excitement was at a fevered pitch in the Broadstreet household. Jacob came to pick up Beatrice and Bradley, and Olivia thought, in the face of the kids’ barely constrained hysteria, his good will seemed a little forced.

  “Hey Olivia,” he said, his face slightly haggard, she noted. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” she said. “Things are good.”

  “Excellent,” he said, although he looked as though he felt quite the opposite. “I’m happy to hear it. Are you still dating that…that Dolf guy?”

  “Yes,” she answered, wondering at his sudden interest.

  “Good, that’s…good,” he said, with a heavy sigh.

  “Everything okay with you?” she asked, feeling concerned in spite of herself.

  “Yes, yes, everything is fine,” he said, with a small smile. “Ali is just working a lot, that’s all. I miss her.”

  “Oh I see. I’m sorry about that. Will you spend Christmas with her?”

  “For sure, for sure,” he nodded. “We’ll have Christmas together, certainly. She’s busy, but we’re still planning on that.”

  “Okay,” Olivia didn’t know what else to say, yet Jacob still stood in her foyer, as though reluctant to leave.

  “You look well,” he said.

  “Thanks. You too,” she lied. They stood there for a minute more before he seemed to collect himself, and called to the children that it was time to go.

  “Well, I’ll talk to you later, Olivia,” he said, turning to go. “See you in a couple of days.”

  “Bye kids; I love you!” she called. They turned and waved, blowing kisses back to her. As she shut the door, Dolf texted, asking if she was ready for him to come pick her up.

  Just have to pack a bag she answered, heart skipping a beat in anticipation. This time, they were spending their time at Dolf’s apartment, and she was anxious to see his workshop and his ceramic creations. Sitting on her counter at the moment was a lovely vase, all curve and swoop, in a shade of cobalt blue that she just couldn’t love enough. Knowing that it came from Dolf’s own hands made it all the more precious. She couldn’t wait to watch him work, as he had promised to give her a demonstration. Soon he was at her door, and as he walked in, he swept her into his arms for a long and ardent kiss.

  “I missed you,” he said in her ear.

  “I missed you too,” she responded. She grabbed her bag and they hit the road. Soon they were pulling up in front of a neat Craftsman-style home, and as he pulled into the alley, she saw that the garage had been converted into a beautiful apartment, with carriage doors opening out onto a courtyard rose garden.

  “Oh Dolf, it’s lovely,” she exclaimed. “Who grows the roses?”

  “That would be yours truly,” he said. “When I first started renting the place, the garden was completely overgrown with morning glory vines and ivy. The owners said I was welcome to do whatever it needed to clean it up. Five years later, there you go. My rose garden.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That’s amazing.”

  “All the roses I’ve brought you have come right from here.”

  “That’s so sweet. I had no idea.”

  They got out of the car and she lingered in the garden, gazing around at the trickling fountain, the roses, and a small Buddha statue, seated in the lotus position and bestowing peace on the surrounding area. The pavers beneath her feet outlined each rose bush, covered for winter and buried in mulch. Even asleep as they were, she could tell they would be lovely in bloom, as the entire courtyard radiated a restful grace and beauty. Her admiration and awe of Dolf continued to grow.

  “Come on in,” Dolf said gently, steering her towards the carriage doors. “I want to show you my pottery studio.”

  Inside the warmth of the workshop, she took in the tidy rows of ceramic bowls and mugs and vases awaiting glazing and firing, the finished products gleaming from the shelves, the massive kiln, and the wheel in the far corner of the room. Dolf slipped an apron on, covered with splatters of mud, and picked up a sphere of clay from a covered tub. Sitting at the wheel, he began to spin it with his foot until it picked up speed. With a swift movement he slammed the sphere down in the middle of the spinning wheel, wet his hands, and centered it. To Olivia’s wondering eyes, he began to shape it, pulling the sides up as though by magic. His powerful hands were gentle as he smoothed the edges and eased the clay up higher, making it impossibly thin, or so Olivia thought. The bowl took shape before her wondering eyes, and Dolf worked it over carefully until he was satisfied. Soon he was done, and he sat back as the wheel spun to a stop, gazing with a critical eye at the finished product. Olivia began to applaud.

  “Dolf, that was wonderful; just wonderful,” she gushed in amazement.

  “It’ll do,” he said finally, taking out a wire and cutting the base from the wheel. With infinite care he picked up the clay and carried it to a rack where other, similar creations sat, drying.

  “Would you like to do one too?” he asked.

  “Oh no; I couldn’t,” she said.

  “Sure you could. I’ll help. It’ll be just like in Ghost,” he said with a grin. He grabbed another orb of clay and put an apron around her neck. Sitting once more, he patted his lap. “Come right over here.”

  Olivia obeyed, sitting on the seat just ahead of him and laughing nervously. She rolled up her sleeves and took the clay from him as he began to kick the wheel once more. “Just throw it down there, in the center,” he said. She threw it as forcefully as she could, and wet her hands with the slurry as Dolf directed. Taking her hands in his, he put them around the spinning clay and together they eased the lump to the center, where it no longer wobbled but spun steadily.

  “Now, take your fingers, the two middle ones, and press the center,” he said. She did so, and watched as the clay opened up and began to take on a distinct shape. Smiling, she wet her hands again and put them around the outside, loving the feel of the wet clay on her palms, the way it responded to her every action, and the nearness of Dolf, who guided her hands with his own at each step. Soon there was a bowl spinning on the wheel; a squatty, thick bowl with nowhere near the elegance of its predecessor, but a bowl, nonetheless. Olivia was thrilled. “Look what I did!” she exclaimed, as the wheel once more came to a halt.

  “It’s very good,” he said, nodding and picking up the wire once more to lift the clay from the wheel. She carried it to the drying shelf and set it next to Dolf’s, laughing at their disparate appearances.

  “That was so much fun,” she said, washing her hands next to him in the large concrete sink. “Can we do it again sometime?”

  “Sure thing, beautiful,” he said with a particularly familiar gleam in his eye. “But I have other things to show you first.”

  Upstairs, in his apartment, she gasped with pleasure at the Arts and Crafts details in the woodwork, the built-in window seat, the beautiful bookcases, and the tiny fir
eplace. Dolf had decorated with restraint, his pottery adorning the shelves and prints by Klimt and Mucha hanging on the walls. In the bedroom, he swept her onto the Craftsman-style bed and kissed her ardently.

  “I’ve never known anybody like you before, Dolf,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re amazing.”

  “And so are you, darling,” he whispered back. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Later, they sat in the living room and watched the fire that Dolf had built. Olivia was overwhelmed with contentment and she snuggled into his side and sighed. He kissed the top of her head and laced his fingers through hers.

  “What do you want to do now?” he asked.

  “Just this,” she said. “Just this, always. With regular intervals of that other thing, too.”

  “I love that other thing,” he said, a smile in his voice.

  “Me too.”

  “Want some wine?’

  “Yes.”

  Dolf got up to go into the kitchen and she got up to use the bathroom. Upon exiting, her eyes fell upon the chest at the end of the bed. Chilly, she lifted the lid to retrieve a blanket, but stopped short, a cold finger tracing up her spine. There were no blankets in the chest. Instead, it was full of…shoes.

  Women’s shoes.

  Shoes of all kinds: kitten heels, high heels, pumps, and flats in all shades and styles. The pair that he had bought the day they bumped into him outside the store was perched on the very top. She dropped the lid in a hurry, face ablaze with embarrassment and shame.

  How stupid could she be? She hadn’t seen through his disguise, his pretense. She had never suspected that there might be another woman in his life. Never suspected that she might only be a fling for his insatiable appetite, a notch to add to his belt. But how could she have suspected such a thing? He was perfect in every way, which apparently included being perfectly deceitful. It was as bad as the night with Marcus, and worse. Far worse.

  Rushing from the room, she pushed Dolf aside as he came in with two glasses. The wine sloshed onto his shirt, and he cried out, startled by her anger.