March 6, 2012
“I taste the essence of your sensual heart. I feel the drips of your morning song. I merge with the colors of your unbinding soul. Today, destiny smiles.” Jeremy remembered the words he had posted on Facebook two months earlier. Olivia had responded. It felt great to be connected. It felt real. Olivia awoke the poet in him. The cynic had urged caution. But Jeremy despised caution. Caution was for the weak.
She was taller than he'd expected. Only an inch shorter than his five foot, ten. She'd be taller than him in the killer pumps she told him she loved. But now, in the hotel bed, they were the same height. They were equal.
Jeremy glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand. 3:30 AM. They'd met in person for the first time four hours ago in the well-lit parking lot of a convenience store. Her smile had been genuine. Her eyes were lighter than he'd expected. Less blue, more gray than the image in his memories, the image from the photos on her Facebook page. He'd stared at each photo for what seemed like hours, memorizing the details, wondering.
And now he knew his Olivia was real. He looked again into her eyes, felt the curve of her hip. He thought again that she might indeed be “the one.”
He smiled. “Again?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said with her blue-gray eyes.
Jeremy felt a flash of anger rise as he woke to the half-empty bed. He looked around the hotel room, still dark. The heavy drapes, circa 1990, Jeremy estimated, were still closed, allowing only thin slivers of light from the mid-morning sun. He saw Olivia's overnight bag was still on the dresser, breathed a small sigh of relief. Then he heard the flush from behind the bathroom door. He let his anger subside and smiled weakly. He didn't want to mess up this relationship as he had others before.
“Good morning.” he called through the still closed door.
The hinge squeaked as Jeremy watched the opening door. Several inches of light covered the carpeted floor, moved over the bed. Jeremy blinked away the brightness as the light from the bathroom met his eyes.
Olivia didn't speak at first, but only peered through the door's opening. Jeremy saw the smile rise to her eyes. His fear melted away, most of it anyway, he realized. He wondered if she were naked behind the door. He realized he'd not seen her yet in the light. Last night, he'd relied on touch to lead his hands. And instinct.
“Will you make us some coffee?” Olivia asked.
“Sure,” Jeremy said automatically. He slipped on his boxer briefs while still under the blankets. He wasn't ready for her to see him exposed, not in the light of day. As he empty the packet of coffee into the paper filter, he wondered about her name. Olivia or Liv. He'd heard her twice call herself Liv. He liked the way that felt. Liv. Jeremy and Liv. Liv and Jeremy. He imagined himself calling her Liv. Three weeks from now. Three years. Maybe.