Page 33 of The Lies I Told
THEN
Tuesday, November 20, 2008
10:00 a.m.
I stared at the pictures I’d taken of you in the last forty-eight hours. I marveled at the power your face held over me. You were the first woman I saw when I woke up, and you’d be the last before sleep.
Glancing back at my neatly made bed, I imagined the gray sheets twisted around your naked body as you offered me a satiated smile. I wanted you to wantme. There needed to be an us.
But the doctor would have said to leaveussafely tucked away in my brain. Forcing love leads to trouble. Imagining an us could be enough. It was safer.
Still, I couldn’t stay away. I needed to see you.
I moved inside and toward a makeshift bar, grabbed a beer, and popped the top. A long pull later, I felt a little steadier, and not as nervous.
The music pulsed, thumping in my head and churning up a primal desire I’d not felt in a long time. I downed the last of my beer as awoman dressed in silver sequins angled toward me. She nodded to the dance floor, and though I wasn’t interested, standing and simply staring was a guarantee to get noticed or remembered in the wrong way.
Drink set down, I took her by the hand and pulled her toward me. Emboldened by music and alcohol, she quickly closed the gap between us and pressed her breasts to my body. She smelled of perfume, hair spray, sweat, and booze—nothing like your scent of clean soap and shampoo clinging to freshly washed hair.
When the song ended and a new one started up, she tried to coax me to stay, but I’d had enough. Making a polite excuse drowned out by the music, I left the room and found my way to the parking lot. Leaning against my car, I pulled a cigarette from my jacket pocket, lit the tip, and inhaled. My ears pounded, and I was frustrated that I’d not seen you.
I checked my watch, knowing the event could go on for hours.
And then just like that, you appeared on the front porch, looking a little frazzled and a lot annoyed. Big parties weren’t your thing, either, were they? I knew we were kindred spirits.
I considered all the stories I’d rehearsed. The simplest lies were the best. I ground out the cigarette and closed the distance between us. “Hey,” I said. “I think I know you.”
You looked up, and this close, I could see fatigue had whitewashed your complexion. “Man-who-needed-directions.”
I liked the nickname. Couples had nicknames for each other. What should I have called you?Redwas too obvious. “I thought I saw you in the party. I came out here to get away from the noise.”
“You were at Tamara’s party?”
“She’s a friend of a friend.”
You started walking. I fell in step beside you, and we walked down the line of cars toward the Jeep you’d been driving the previous day. Out here, the darkness wrapped around us, cocooning us from the world.
“Want to grab a drink?” I asked. “You can pick the place. I’ll meet you there.” I grinned, knowing I could be very charming when it suited me.
You glanced back at the house, where the party raged. There was a man on the porch with a blonde. The couple was laughing. You frowned.
“What’s with Captain America?” I asked.
“Captain Asshole.” You drew in a breath. “A drink would be nice.”
I didn’t know who the guy was, but I owed him my thanks. “O’Malley’s?”
“Sure. I’ll follow you.”
“Great.”
“What’s your name?”
You hesitated and then smiled. “Marisa.”
“Good to meet you. I’m Jeff.” I’d defaulted to a name that wasn’t mine because I already suspected how it was going to go between us.
As I drove to the bar, I kept a sharp eye on your headlights, fearful you’d peel off. But you stayed the course. I parked in the restaurant’s lot and watched as you pulled in beside me. We were already working as a team.
