One Look At You

by Hartwell, Sofie

  “That would be great.” I suddenly feel like making breakfast, so I ask, “Can you wait until I make us some French toast?”

  “Wouldn’t say no to that,” she says with a laugh.

  I grab the milk, eggs, and butter from the fridge, along with day-old brioche and cinnamon. I whisk the ingredients together, dip the bread in the mixture, and then start frying in butter. Super easy comfort food which we both love. I arrange the toast on small plates, get the forks and knives, and look for the maple syrup in the cabinet.

  Anyone observing us would think we were eating caviar and truffles by the way we dive into the dish.

  “This is sooo good,” Jen says.

  “I know. We never have breakfast on weekdays so it’s a worthwhile indulgence.”

  “What are you doing next?”

  “I’ll probably do laundry. I have two weeks’ worth. Then grocery shopping. Make a sandwich and have a little picnic at the park. I don’t know. I’m taking your advice and playing everything by ear this week,” I say with a grin.

  “I’m so envious, I’m tempted to call in sick.”

  “Don’t be. After a day or two, I’ll probably be climbing up the walls and begging for any kind of work.”

  “What about if we have Chinese later? My treat.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ll get some kung pao chicken and steamed rice on the way home.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Okay, I’m going. Thanks for breakfast.” As she departs through the front door, she suddenly pauses and shouts, “Liv, I totally forgot about your package. It came around seven. I put it on top of my bed since it’s marked fragile. Door’s not locked.”

  “Package? Oh, that’s probably the cork board I ordered for my bedroom from Amazon. I’ll hang it later.” I read somewhere that a vision board can help one focus on life goals. Well, change of plans. Right now, the only affirmation I should be repeating to myself is ‘I will get a good job.’ I decide to open it later when I’m done with my chores. Maybe I’ll hang it in the kitchen, and Jen and I can use it as a message board instead.

  I go to the laundry area and start separating the lights from the darks. After I load the first batch into the washing machine, I enter into my notes app a list of all the staples we need, including toiletries. I intend to buy groceries which will be good for at least a month. I also make a mental note to write Jen a check in advance for the end of the month. That way, I’ll know I’ve taken care of my obligations at least until close to October.

  The machine’s not on anymore. Time to load the wet clothes into the dryer and put in a second load for washing. Meanwhile, I boil some eggs for a simple egg salad sandwich which I plan to bring with me to the park with one of the books I’ve borrowed from the library. Maybe Jen’s right – this week, all I’ll do is decompress. I need to clear the cobwebs from my mind and start fresh.

  My phone rings and I can see Gallo’s on the caller identification. I don’t pick up. The phone rings three more times. Every call goes to voicemail. I feel guilty. What if it’s John or one of the executive assistants? They may be calling about something important. The only way I can stop myself from responding or calling back is to completely turn off my phone. This, I reluctantly do. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say to no one in particular. I have to do what I have to do.

  ***

  I’m on page 150 of She Had No Chance, a compelling courtroom drama set in the 1950s. I was lucky enough to find a spot under a huge Magnolia tree when I arrived at the park. After spreading my blanket and putting my little food basket next to me, I started to read, and I haven’t put the book down since then. I’d forgotten the joy of doing nothing, or at least reading a paperback with no interruptions. I just may get used to this. I smile inwardly at the thought. I am so engrossed with the book that I’ve actually forgotten to eat the sandwich I packed.

  I finally bring out the sandwich, chips, and bottled water. Despite the fact that I’m wearing a bandeau and shorts, the heat is starting to get to me so I sip from the bottle. I see a middle-aged, fair-haired man coming my way. He looks familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen him. When he’s about ten feet away, I clearly see his face. I know who he is. I hurriedly put everything back in the basket, grab my purse and blanket, and start to walk-run in the opposite direction.

  “Miss Harris! Miss Harris!” He says my name loudly and many people turn to look at the man who’s practically shouting my name.

  With his long strides, he’s catching up to me and I stop, knowing it will be futile for me to try to escape him.

  “Why are you here, Lucas?” I don’t want to be rude to him, but I know Tony has asked him to find me and I’m very close to blowing up at this intrusion of my privacy.

  He says nothing, waiting for me to say something again.

  “Tell your boss to leave me alone,” I say with an anger that’s close to becoming a scalding fury.

  “I’m to escort you back to his hotel room,” he says without expression.

  “Really? How will you manage that when all I have to do is to start screaming at the top of my voice for everyone around to come running to my side?”

  “Please, Miss Harris. Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says with a slight smile.

  I sigh loudly. “How did you even track me to this place?”

  “I don’t know how Mr. Avery obtained the information.”

  Oh, what’s the use? Maybe it’s best for me to just pretend to listen and then leave. He’ll leave me alone once he realizes I have no intention of going back to him, either personally or professionally. “Fine. Take me to Mr. Avery. On one condition. Please be on stand by. Our conversation won’t be long, and you’ll have to bring me back as soon as it’s over.”

  He nods in agreement. We walk to the car without talking to one another. I sense the curious stares of some of the passers-by as I get into the town car.

  I hear Lucas talking to someone on his cell. “We’re on our way, sir.”

  ***

  I wish we weren’t meeting at his hotel room, but I do understand that whatever discussion we’ll be having has to take place somewhere private. I take a deep breath and then knock softly on his door. Immediately, he lets me in. “Thank you for coming, Livie.”

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” I say petulantly.

  “Please,” he says as he indicates the sofa close to the coffee table. I sit down primly on the edge of the sofa, feeling ill at ease with the brevity of my outfit. His eyes flicker down briefly to my legs, and I steel myself not to react.

  “Why have you brought me here?” I say without preamble.

  “Livie, I’ve been wanting to have a talk with you since my departure, but there was never any time.”

  “I don’t really think there’s anything to talk about.”

  “I want to explain what’s been going on because you’re probably jumping to the wrong conclusions about what’s happened the past few weeks.”

  “I don’t jump to conclusions, Tony. Whatever I feel or think is based on the facts before me.”

  “I don’t mean to imply anything.” He seems at a loss for words. He ruffles his hand through his hair and finally sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. He stares at me for a very long time. My heart starts to pound but, outwardly, I remain cool and composed.

  “The day after our return from Carmel, I called Izabel. I wanted her to finally sign the divorce papers because she’d been dragging her feet for months. We were at an impasse, and she told me it would be better for her to come see me at work so we could discuss the terms of the settlement in person. I said no. You have to understand, I didn’t want her at Gallo’s. That’s why I was in a horrible mood when I came to work. However, even though I told her not to come, she stubbornly came anyway.” He stops talking, waiting for me to say something.

  “Go on,” is all I say.

  “That’s it. She told me she wanted us to try again. She refused to listen. I think she
enjoyed having the upper hand. She asked about you several times. She must have been suspicious.”

  “Why suspicious?” I can’t help but ask.

  “I honestly don’t know.” Can it be that she remembers seeing me crying in the women’s lounge? Or did he say something?

  “I just had a feeling that she might do something to hurt you or humiliate you if she knew the truth, so I did my best to lead her in another direction. Nothing was resolved that day. She left without signing the papers. Later on, I got the news about my mom so I hurriedly left for Brazil.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I saw the look on your face when Izabel walked in. I could tell you thought I had asked her to come. But it was bad timing, Livie. That’s all it was. You have to believe me.”

  I don’t know what to think. What he says seems to make sense, but I find it hard to believe that he wants to leave his wife. He loved her once. She’s still in love with him and wants to make a go of their marriage. How can he say no to that?

  “At the ball, you just left me in the middle of the dance floor to join her. Do you even know how that made me feel?” My tone is calm, but I can feel the tears forming at the back of my eyes.

  “I was afraid she’d make trouble. I had to stop her. I was protecting you.”

  “Protecting me or yourself?” I ask coldly.

  “I could have handled it better, but I guess I acted instinctively. Livie… please.” His voice fades to a hushed stillness. There’s a look of defeat on his face, but I feel little sympathy for him right now. He chose his bed, and now he has to lie in it.

  “I must go.” I say this as I stand up, preparing to leave. He reaches for my hand but I move away. “Please let Lucas know I’ll be waiting outside the lobby.” Without a backward glance, I walk to the door, leaving him looking dazed with disbelief.

  He only had to say one thing and I would have gone straight into his arms. One thing. But he never did. And now, there’s no turning back.

  ***

  “Thank you, Lucas.” He looks solemnly at me and nods in acknowledgement. I walk to my car and drive home. I feel empty. There is a lonely, hollow feeling deep, deep inside me. I’ve always felt it’s an exaggeration to say that someone’s heart has been ripped out, but that’s close to what I feel right now. I had – I have – an addiction, and just like a junkie, I’m in pain from withdrawal. I’m alive, yes. But, barely.

  Was he telling me the truth or was it all an act? Does it even matter? I walked out of that ballroom with my heart in shreds and my reputation in shambles. How can I pick up the pieces? Where do I even go from here?

  So, like a limp ragdoll, I lie on the living room couch, staring at the wall and pondering how I have fallen hopelessly, irrevocably in love and in lust with a married man.

  I’m so tired, so so tired.

  ***

  “Livie, Livie.” Jen says my name as she shakes my shoulders. “Livie, wake up.”

  “What’s the time?” I ask, feeling so sluggish.

  “It’s six. I left work early and got us Chinese.”

  “I was exhausted.”

  “The heat must have gotten to you. C’mon, sleepyhead. Let’s eat while the kung pao’s hot.” I stretch and then slowly get up. Jen is already busily setting the table.

  “No, Jen. Let’s just use the paper plates and chopsticks. I don’t feel like washing up tonight.”

  “Okay. Then sit down and let’s eat.” She passes me the carton of steam rice and then the chicken.

  “What did you do all day?”

  “Laundry. Read my book at the park. Went home and slept. Pretty boring stuff.” I naturally leave out the part about going to Tony’s hotel.

  “Did you get a chance to check out the classifieds?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, I may have a lead. My contact at happyworld dotcom told me they’re looking for a researcher.”

  “I don’t think I’ve heard of that site.”

  “Just set up last year. It’s an educational site for kids from ages four to twelve. She gave me the email address. Just send your latest resume and she’ll do her best to put you on the shortlist. I already told her about your awesome qualities, so she’s excited to meet you.”

  “Oh, Jen, you’re the best. I do hope you didn’t make up things about me.”

  “What do you mean? Just told her you speak five languages, know jujitsu, and have hiked the Himalayas,” she jokingly says.

  “Only five languages? Why not six?” We both crack up.

  “By the way, when are you gonna hang your cork board? It’s still on my bed,” she reminds me.

  “I completely forgot. I’ll do it right after dessert.”

  “What are you gonna put on it?”

  “Don’t laugh. I wanted to have a vision board, but I feel like I’m a failure at manifesting, so I’ll put it on the kitchen wall instead. We can post messages, reminders, recipes and whatever.”

  “Cool. I’ll do a meme of the day to cheer us up.”

  “Yeah, I need that.”

  “You didn’t eat much.” A frown mars her lovely face. “Livie, I don’t want to sound like a Hallmark card but, take it from me – one day, it won’t hurt so much anymore.”

  “I know. Just let me be miserable in the meantime,” I say with my eyes pleading for understanding.

  She looks inside the fridge, and gets a small box of brownies from the supermarket and a pint of ice cream. “Choose,” she tells me as she holds the box in her left hand and the pint in her right.

  “Brownies?” I’m not certain of my choice.

  She puts one brownie on my plate and scoops out the ice cream for herself. “You’ll never believe what happened at lunch today.” While we enjoy our sweets, she talks about her hilarious encounter with Rex, the software guy, and she has me in stitches. It seems like the guy really has a big crush on her but is too much of a dork to make a move. Jen’s doing her best to show him she likes him, but his lack of social skills keeps landing them in a comedy of errors. Her story sounds like an episode of Beauty and the Geek. Ahh…sweet, gorgeous Jen and funny Rex.

  ***

  “Time to put up the cork board,” I say as I enter Jen’s room with cutter in hand. Jen is going through her messy closet, trying to figure out a way to reorganize it. I look at the package on the bed and it looks much bigger than the item I ordered. The packaging looks eerily familiar, too, and it suddenly feels like my heart has stopped beating for a second or two. I carefully open the carton using the cutter. My hands are shaking, knowing with certainty what I’ll find.

  I gaze at the painting with unshed tears. Why did he give this to me? Is it guilt? A goodbye present? Something to remember him by? Is he trying to tell me something or am I just reading too much into this?

  Jen is standing next to me now. “Tony?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

  “We saw this at a gallery in Carmel. I thought he was buying it for himself.”

  We continue to silently admire the painting until I say, “I have to go to him.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea, Liv?”

  I bite my lip. “No, but I have to.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?” I shake my head. I bring the painting to my room and lovingly lay it on the bed. I quickly change into a casual top and jeans.

  “Jen, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Drive safe.” That’s all she says, and all the more I love her for simply standing by me, despite her own misgivings.

  ***

  As the elevator doors close behind me, I panic, no longer sure if I should see him. What if Izabel is here? What if he refuses to see me? What do I say to him? My pulse quickens with severe anxiety. I knock, softly at first, and then gradually louder when I get no response. Just when I lose my nerve and turn around, the door opens.

  “Livie?” I go near him. Shadows deepen his eyes and weariness seems to envelope him.

  “The painting… why?”
<
br />   “Carmel is a special place for me. I wanted you to remember our time there.”

  “You want me to remember, buy me a souvenir keychain. But a painting?” I search his face for an answer.

  “Do you want to come in?” I follow him without a word. We both sit on the sofa.

  “What do you want me to say? It’s a gift that I thought you would enjoy.”

  “Just that?” I feel an odd twinge of disappointment at his answer.

  “I don’t understand your question.”

  Tell me something from the heart, I want to say. But, of course, the words remain unspoken. Instead, I say, “It’s lovely and I do appreciate the sentiment. Thank you, but I have to return it.”

  “I get it. You want nothing from me, no part of me,” he says bitterly. “Please don’t bother to return it. Give it away, sell it, burn it. I don’t care what you do with it.” His voice is cold and lashing.

  My temper rises at his response. “I can’t keep something as expensive as that. I’m just doing the appropriate thing. Obviously, you don’t know the meaning of the word…. You know what? I’m done here. I’m sending it back to you and you can burn it yourself!” I stand to leave but he quickly stands himself. He puts his hand around my waist and draws me to him. His breath fans my face while his hand slides underneath my top, across my belly.

  “No!” I shout while I have the strength.

  “Yes,” he whispers, and then takes my mouth in a bruising kiss. It is a kiss of fire, exerting masterful control and demanding complete surrender. I offer token resistance, then inevitably yield. It feels too good to be in his warm embrace. I want him so much. How can this be wrong?… You know why.

  “No,” I say softly this time as I break free from his arms with great effort. “I can’t come between you and your wife anymore. I have no place in your life.”

  “Our marriage is over. It has been almost from the very start. I want a divorce. It’s Izabel who’s fighting it.”

  “Because she loves you. And she’s entitled to a second chance.” I say that with a lump in my throat.

  “She’s not! You don’t know her. Don’t be naïve. She’s not doing this for love,” he says contemptuously. “I offered her an extremely generous settlement a year ago and she said yes. But, when she found out that Tio Maximo is formally grooming me as his successor, she changed her mind. Now she’s asking for the moon.”