Authors: Olivia Black
Falling Forward (7 page)
Morning broke. We had left the blinds open, and the strong Hawaiian sun somehow snuck its rays between the surrounding concrete mountains and managed to bestow its bright energetic photons about my still droopy eyelids. I stretched out and fumbled for my glasses to see what time it was.
As I stepped out of bed, I noticed Michelle was already gone. That sucked – I wish she had awoken me so I could have thanked her. On the desk, I saw a box of macadamia nuts with a small bow on them. There was a note beside them.
Hey, BFF, so sorry I didn’t say goodbye. My flight was really early, and you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. This trip is going to be soooo good for you, you’ll see. I HATE to leave you alone. Especially now. But you gotta do what you gotta do. I want you to call me every day and tell me EVERYTHING. Don’t worry about the time diff, just call. Don’t even look at your watch. Your confirmation for today’s adventure is in the envelope under this letter. They’ll be a bus outside at about 9 AM. I set up a wakeup call at 8 if you weren’t up by then. Get up and go get yourself some coffee and have a terrific adventure!
Oh, and by the way, you have reservations for dinner tonight. I can’t tell you where, but what I can tell you is that a special someone will be by to pick you up in the main lobby at 6 tonight. Wear that yellow dress you bought, you look amazing in it! Love you with all my heart. Don’t stay in Hawaii forever, bitch! I need you at home!
Love, Michelle.
Oh my God – she set me up with
Kalani
! I can’t explain the range of emotions I felt. I was happy, yet nervous. I felt panicked, but I was also calm. I thought I was in control of me, but apparently there were some loose ends.
My heart sunk as I realized I was technically still married. I had never been unfaithful to Richard. Would this be considered ‘cheating?’ Could this be the end of my unusual lifelong streak of fidelity? At first, I was going to call and cancel, but I paused. I figured I could handle this. I thought it would be nice to see the town and have dinner with a new
friend
. After all, I had dined with male classmates, friends and even vendors many times before, and that always turned out alright. There were occasionally little innuendos, especially from traveling salesmen, and once from a very forward sales
woman
, but they were easily deflected. Besides, I was wondering how Carol was doing, and maybe Kalani had some news.
I looked at my watch and realized I needed to get ready for my trip to the Big Island. But with all this traveling and stress, I didn’t feel I was in the right frame of mind to appreciate this tour. I decided to skip the trip. I badly needed some R&R. All I’ve been doing is running for the past three days. I called the tour operator to cancel. She thought I was nuts for cancelling a tour that costs so much, and reminded me my reservation was not refundable. She must have asked five times if I was sure. I suppose no one has ever cancelled her tour. Although I would have loved to see the Big Island and its volcanoes, I was quietly proud to be her first cancellation ever. “Maybe some other time,” I told her as I finally disconnected the call. I meant that. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief. I thought about going back to sleep, but that seemed wasteful.
I scoured all the clothes we bought the night before and found the hot pink bikini Michelle had picked out for me. I slipped out of last night’s clothes and tried it on. Looking in the mirror, I realized it was a little more scant than I thought it was with my beer goggles on last night. All my other bathing suits at home were one-piece. I hadn’t worn a bikini since I was 20. But this is the
new
Liv, so bikini it is. Fortunately, the matching cover-up was a little more reserved. I hadn’t really looked at my body like that in a while. I was surprised at how much I had missed in the world tending to other people’s challenges and being busy with the typical work and home routine. For a few days into my 42nd year, I realized I didn’t look half bad, as I turned around and checked myself out. My ass still looked pretty cute, and I hadn’t yet developed a horizontally extended midriff. I giggled as I realized I was pretty darn hot for a woman my age. I had a few more greys than I’d like, but they were always well camouflaged by my lightly colored hair.
I grabbed my bag, Michelle’s Kindle, and my sunglasses and headed for the elevators. First stop, coffee. Second stop, pool. Third stop, an entire day rejuvenating my soul in a tropical paradise. I took a deep breath as the elevator dinged with the down button light brightly illuminated. I stepped inside and nodded at the Samoan-looking lady who looked like she was already having a bad day. Someone told me Samoan women always looked like that. I wanted to look back at her and smile, but I was afraid she’d yell at me or cause a scene. Or worse, kick my ass. That woman looked strong as a bull.
As escaped the elevator and walked through the lobby, I acted as if I hadn’t noticed several men watching me. I have to admit, those turning heads were quite a needed boost to my self-esteem. Old Olivia wouldn’t have cared for such a thing. I giggled aloud as I found it comical that I was behaving like a bubble-headed twenty-something.
I began to question my entire existence up until that point. I thought I had made all the right choices, but maybe I really hadn’t. I did well in school, and I’ve always worked hard to get where I was professionally. I made a comfortable living. But dealing with dying people can take a toll on the soul. I wondered if I had missed out on some of the more important things in life. Was deciding not to have children the right choice?
And was marrying Richard really nothing more than a marriage of convenience?
Maybe we were never in love. I might not even know what “real” love feels like. Sure, I
loved
Richard – I guess. But what if I was never really
in love
with him? When we first started dating, we kissed a lot. We used to have sex four or five times a week, until a few months after we got married. Then, it was once a week for a while. Lately, if I had to guess, I’d say maybe once or twice a month. Now that I think about it, it may have been two or three months since we were last together. He didn’t seem interested, and now I knew why. Besides, it was never really great. He’d usually finish too quickly, and then roll over and fall asleep. If I hadn’t taken Michelle’s advice and learned to masturbate, I may have never had an orgasm. Turns out the removable shower head was a better partner than Richard.
Forty-two might be a bit late to learn life lessons, but it’s better late than never.
The smell of coffee from the far end of the gorgeous open-air lobby helped to pause my deep reflection. I could have spent an entire day in the aromatic lobby with its tropical flora and relaxing sounds of its small waterfall. There was some kind of long narrow boat that resembled a canoe hanging from the ceiling. I jokingly wondered if that was something you could rent. It looked like fun. It would be even more fun to watch them try to detach it from the very high ceiling.
There was a bevy of activity on the other side of the lobby. It looked like a high school softball tournament. Lucky girls! Wish they would have sent my team to Hawaii back in the day. I stopped and chatted with one for a moment. This team was from Alabama. I should have known from the prominent
A
embroidered on their hats and the bright red color of their jackets. Her southern accent was cute, but it was so thick it was difficult at times to understand.
I approached the coffee counter and was greeted immediately. They had all kinds of hot and cold coffee concoctions that might have been rather confusing to the uninitiated. I used to be a trendy coffee connoisseur, until I realized you had to be a chemist to make any coffee correctly. None of the chains used the right water or temperature consistently. The beans were the only controlled substance. I used to brew coffee at home, and I almost always got it right. But that was way too much work for a beverage. “Medium regular blend, room for cream, please.” I never used to add cream and sugar. They were used to mask the bitter taste of poorly cooked coffee. I reluctantly joined the club.
While I waited, I tooled around the outside of the lobby coffee shop for a moment, watching the softball girls goof around, secretly wishing I was twenty-some years younger, and a part of this particularly rambunctious group. I grabbed my coffee and added two packets of sugar and a little cream. I paid the girl with a $20 bill and told her to keep the change. I figured I’d put that on Richard’s tab too. He rarely tipped anyone. She smiled ear to ear and thanked me at least four times. Apparently, large coffee tips are rare in Oahu.
I made my way through what looked like a small shopping mall in the corridors of the hotel lobby to the pool deck on the third floor. There were quite a few people there already. I found an empty lounger towards the back, safely away from the children already splashing in the pool. That was such an old Olivia thing to do. Besides, Richard wasn’t here, and he was the one who had problems with children. I gathered my things and moved closer to the pool, where it wasn’t quite so safe. I settled in my dangerously located lounge chair. I smiled at a little boy who was racing by me as I took a sip of coffee. I was proud of myself for breaking my old rules.
I happened to looked down at my wedding ring, and I began to think of all the things Richard had influenced in my life. I was so busy prolonging or saving what lives I could that I used to let Richard dictate nearly everything; or whatever I felt I didn’t have time to choose. Apparently, there were more things than I realized. Richard picked the music I listened to. And the television shows we followed. And the food we ate. Where and how we lived. Whether we had children or not. The list went on and on. I was quite surprised at how much of my life I relinquished to Richard’s preferences. I thought about the countless stories I had heard, including twice from Michelle, in which friends and coworkers were furious they too had endured a similar fate after their relationship had ended. They had no identity – it was like they were merely extensions of their husbands. At the time, none of this seemed to matter to me. It was my intent to live out my life with this man, so those things didn’t really matter. But now, I too felt like a fool.
I’m not the type to dwell on past mistakes, as I am wise enough to realize there isn’t anything I can do about them. But from this point forward, the future was entirely mine. I intended to pursue it with both eyes wide open, and an all new vigor. And I promised myself never to make the same mistakes again.
I closed my eyes and let the warm Hawaiian sun fill every crevice of my pasty white skin. Although I ran at the same time every morning, the sun was barely lifted during most of year, so I didn’t get much color. Other than my mornings, the most I saw of the outdoors was the walk from the parking lot to my office. I felt like the sunlight was energizing my soul, or at least recharging my batteries. I realized I forgot sunblock. I decided to finish my coffee and then run to one of the three or four gift shops in the hotel.
I found it surprising that I enjoyed watching couples and families and children smile and laugh while frolicking in the pool. Richard hated that sort of commotion. I thought I did too, but I was mistaken. For the first time in my life, I saw how children could be fulfilling. My whole life seemed to flash before my eyes as I realized it may already be too late.
And then I was startled. Directly across from me, I saw a man who looked like Richard from the back. Thankfully, it was someone else. What was really odd was the woman he was with looked oddly like his secretary. She was short. Pasty skin. Bristly dark hair, like a witch. And she had one of those huge Italian or Jewish noses. And she topped it off with an awkwardly large ass. His secretary wasn’t ugly – she was cute in her own special way. But she wasn’t
me
. I couldn’t understand what Richard saw in that tramp.
That was it. I couldn’t handle the suspense any longer. I went to my purse to find that phone number. I still wasn’t sure if it was hers, or perhaps a client’s he scribbled while on the road, but I was going to find out. I found the card. Then I pulled out my phone. I hesitated for a moment, heeding Michelle’s warning that this situation could instantly become a little too real. I wondered if I really wanted to do this. If nothing else, if it actually was her number, I could put this permanently to bed. It would be the ultimate justification for my murder of Olivia Garvin.
But – what if it
wasn’t
her number? What if this whole damned thing was a big misunderstanding, or even a set up? What if Richard was completely innocent? Maybe Richard and I could somehow work it out.
I stared at the card for about a minute. I twisted it up and down. I went to put it away. But I couldn’t help it. The curiosity got the best of me. I decided to call.
There was a long hesitation after I dialed, as if the call didn’t connect. I remembered I was thousands of miles away from the mainland, and being largely technology illiterate, I wasn’t yet sure how the cell would work out here. I tried to imagine the complex transmission from my cell to a tower to a landline to a satellite… that was much too complicated for me. I pulled the phone away from my face to see if I had pressed call. I had. Then it finally connected. It rang four times, then went to voicemail. I was temporarily relieved.
