Kissing Robert

  Kissing Rober t

  a novella by

  Jennifer Wilson

  For You-Know-Who

  ONE

  He threw the door open, ready to continue their fight, but when he saw Olivia in tears, his eyes— those soft, deep brown, delicious eyes—grew tender. He stepped forward, one hand gripping the towel that draped his waist, the other running through his dark, damp waves in frustration.

  “You bring out the worst in me,” he said gruffly, putting one arm around her waist. “And the best.”

  With a finger, she followed a droplet of water as it made its way down his muscled chest and disappeared into the white terrycloth of the towel just below his navel.

  She felt the warm breath of his sigh upon her cheek as he lifted her chin and pressed his lips, firm but gentle, against her own. His tongue slowly searched her mouth and she reciprocated, the taste of him slightly smoky and altogether pleasant. He clutched her lower back and pressed her closer as their breath came faster.

  Separating, he looked down at Olivia and smiled, his face folding into those famous, delightful wrinkles. Her hand was on the knot of the towel, and with one quick tug—

  Beeping. Loud, persistent beeping. Olivia’s eyes opened reluctantly as she slowly comprehended that she was alone in her own bed and the clock was telling her the unfortunate truth that she had overslept. Again. She hit the button to make the offending noise stop and leapt to her feet.

  “Shit!” she said. “Shit-shit-shit!”

  “What’s the matter, Mommy?”

  The small, sleepy voice made her bite her lip so hard she tasted blood. Had he heard her? Turning quickly, she greeted her four-year old son, Bradley.

  “Nothing honey,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “Nothing. Hey, can you go potty and get your clothes on quick? We’re late for your daycare. I’ll get your backpack.”

  “Sure Mommy.”

  She went down the hallway and flipped the light on in the next bedroom. A groan rose from the bed as she shook the lump that was her daughter into wakefulness.

  “Bea. Beatrice, honey, time to get up. Hurry, we’re late.”

  “Ugh, Mo-oom!” the voice moaned.

  “I’m not kidding. Up and at ‘em,” she attempted to whistle reveille but was interrupted by a call from the bathroom to help with wiping.

  Such was the glamorous life of Olivia Broadstreet: thirty-one, mother of two, newly separated, and late for work.

  ~~~~~~~~

  “Rough night?” Tad asked as Olivia strode past him in their cluster of cubicles and hastily turned on her monitor.

  “What? No,”

  “Oh, okay. Sorry. You just look…tired.”

  Olivia’s hand went self-consciously to her hastily-pulled-back ponytail and wished she had at least taken a few minutes to throw on some blush. She felt all too keenly that “tired” was simply a kinder, gentler version of “terrible”.

  “Get you some coffee?” he asked, his freckled face full of sympathy. She nodded and he left her to pull up her latest project, an obstinate bit of coding for the megalithic oil company’s in-house website. Quickly picking up where she left off, she began typing, vaguely cognizant of the looks being exchanged between her two other pod-mates, Steve and Lauren. She bristled mentally. It’s not like you’re never late, assholes. She felt immediately remorseful for the ungracious thought, and shifted in her seat with a sigh.

  Tad returned with the coffee, which she took gratefully.

  “Got any plans for the weekend?”

  “Nope,” she answered, wincing as she scalded her tongue on the hot liquid. “You?”

  “Just going to visit my mom,” he said with a bright smile. “I’m taking her to a musical downtown. Should be fun.”

  “Very.”

  “Well, I’ll let you get to work.”

  “Okay. Thank you for the coffee, Tad.”

  “Anytime, Olivia.”

  He left to attend to his own program and she closed her eyes, feeling suffused with warmth as she remembered her dream from just an hour before.

  Why were dream men always the best? She wondered. Why couldn’t she find a nice, real, living-and-breathing human being to fulfill her fantasies?

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  “Honey, what are you so afraid of?” Shirley asked, forking a bite of salad into her mouth as the lunch date once again became an opportunity to dissect Olivia’s love life. “Just because one man turned out to be a dud doesn’t mean they all are!”

  “Yeah,” Sally chimed in. “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

  “I don’t think all men are duds,” Olivia protested, pushing her own salad around in the bowl to pick out the black olives. “But you’re both divorced. That means there’s at least three duds. Four, if you count Shirley’s first marriage.”

  “We don’t count it,” Shirley said firmly.

  “Okay, okay. So three.”

  “What about that guy you work with. The cute red head. What’s-his-name? Thaddeus?”

  “Tad?” Olivia was incredulous. “We’re just friends. And I think he might be gay. He’s always visiting his mother and going to stage plays. And he—”

  “You know what I think?” Sally said, interrupting before Olivia could continue. “I think you’re still waiting for Jacob to come to his senses and ditch that bitch he left you and the kids for.”

  “Yeah, what about that?” Shirley said, nodding. “You know he’s not going to. Look at him, shacked up in that chic apartment with Ms. Hot Bod.”

  “I am not waiting for that!” Olivia objected. “I’m just waiting for the right guy.”

  “You’ve been waiting twelve months now. And by waiting I mean doing nothing. It’s time to take action. Sally and I think you should join an online dating service.”

  “A what?”

  “An online dating service. We’ve both already joined. And we want you to as well.”

  “Yeah!” Sally exclaimed. “My cousin’s sister-in-law joined and now she’s engaged! She met the guy on Hey.com and they set a date after just nine months!”

  “I don’t know,” Olivia said, giving up on her salad entirely and pushing it away from her. “It’s so contrived.”

  “It is nothing of the sort!” Sally protested. “It’s absolutely scientific! They ask you a million questions and then match you up with another person who answered the same as you! So you find somebody you really have something in common with.”

  “Sounds more like cloning,” muttered Olivia.

  “Honestly, what do you have to lose?” Shirley asked. “A few bucks a month? A bad date or two? To find true love? I say it’s worth it.”

  “Come on,” Sally prodded. “Do it with us. Both Shirley and I have made profiles already. We decided they’re our birthday gifts to ourselves. And we both have dates next Friday!”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Shirley nodded.

  Well. That changed things a bit. Olivia sat back and chewed on a strand of her hair. Her friends looked back at her expectantly.

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Fine. But if I get hooked up with an axe murderer, I’m holding you two personally responsible.”

  ~~~~~~~~~

  “But Olivia, you know I wouldn’t say I can’t unless I really can’t,” Jacob said, his disembodied voice sounding exasperated.

  “No, I don’t know that!” she returned. “Your children haven’t seen you in over a month, Jacob, and that’s long enough! Can’t you make it work?”

  “I told you already, Ali has work this weekend and I’m going with her. Unless you want the kids to come to a swimsuit photo shoot in Cabo, they’re going to have to stay with you.”

  “No, I do not want them going to a swimsuit photo shoot in C
abo!”

  “Well then, we’re on the same page.”

  They were not on the same page. They were not even in the same book store, but Olivia was suddenly weary of fighting. The fact that Jacob didn’t care about seeing his children was depressingly clear.

  “That’s just fine. Have fun in Mexico,” she said, jabbing the button to hang up and tossing the cellphone onto the table in front of her.

  “Mom? Who was that?” Beatrice asked, entering the kitchen and opening the fridge.

  “Daddy.”

  “Really?” she pulled out a juice box and stabbed at it with the straw. “Are we going to see him this weekend?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? It’s been for-ever.”

  “I know. But he’s got…work,” she finished lamely. She couldn’t paint her ex in a negative light to his children, in spite of her current feelings. Surely she was wrong about him. Surely the man wanted to see his children. He just wanted to see swimsuit models in bikinis more.

  “Shoot,” Beatrice pouted, slurping on the drink. “He said he’d take us to the movies.”

  “I’ll take you to the movies,” Olivia said, pulling her daughter into an embrace. “We’ll go to the movies and stuff ourselves silly with popcorn. Okay? Just the three of us.”

  “Okay.”

  “Daddy?” Bradley entered the room, eyebrows raised. “Can we see Daddy soon?”

  “No,” Olivia answered again. “He’s busy, honey.”

  “Busy?” Bradley’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But I want to see him!”

  A lump rose to her own throat as she gathered him into her arms.

  “Oh sweetheart, don’t cry. We’ll have fun on our own, okay?”

  He buried his face in her chest and sobbed instead, shattering her heart as he did so.

  “C’mon, Bradley,” Beatrice said, patting his back. “Don’t cry. Dad’s lame anyway.”

  “He—he is not,” Bradley hiccupped, coming up for air, face reddening. “He’s not lame!”

  “Yes he is!” She countered. “He’s lame and he doesn’t love us!”

  “Beatrice!” Olivia exclaimed, shocked. “Yes he does. He loves you very much! He’s just busy, like I said.”

  “Too busy to see his own children, yeah. I get it. And Ali is more important than we are. That’s just obvious.”

  Storming out of the kitchen, she crossed the hall to her room and slammed the door. Olivia sat with Bradley, silently amazed at the pre-teen behavior being exhibited—to her mind—far too early. She’s only nine she thought. God help me.

  “Why is Beatrice so mad all the time?” Bradley asked, wiping his nose on her shirt as he climbed into her lap.

  “She’s not mad all the time,” Olivia answered. “Her hormones are just in an uproar.”

  “What’s hormones?”

  “Tiny aliens that live in your body and make you crazy.”

  “Really?” his eyes were wide in his freckled face and she tousled his blond waves.

  “Really,” she answered with a wink and a smile. “Want to help me make some macaroni and cheese? And after that we’ll go to the movie theater!”

  “Yay!” he said, clambering down from her lap to get the ubiquitous blue boxes from the pantry.

  Jacob be damned Olivia thought. She would let her children know they were loved more than any loser father ever could.

  ~~~~~~~~

  At the ice cream shop after the movie, Olivia sat licking her peanut-butter-cup cone as Beatrice and Bradley ate sundaes and discussed the merits of the cartoon they had just seen.

  “I liked the octopus!” Bradley exclaimed.

  “Me too!” said Beatrice, eyes dancing. “He was so funny! And the whale too!”

  “Yeah!”

  The bells that hung over the door jingled merrily as a customer entered the shop, and suddenly a familiar voice came to her ear.

  “Hey, Olivia. Hey kids,” it said.

  Turning, she saw Tad standing and looking dapper with his mother on his arm.

  “Tad, hi!” she said, standing. “How are you?”

  “Just fine,” he said. “Olivia, I’d like you to meet my mother, Francine Forrest. Mom, this is Olivia. I’ve told you about her, I think.”

  “Yes indeed,” the silver-haired woman said, a smile crinkling her eyes as she shook Olivia’s hand. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

  “And these are her children, Bradley and Beatrice,” he continued, gesturing.

  “Lovely to meet you, too,” she said, shaking each of their hands in turn.

  “Hi,” they said, pausing in their talking and eating for a moment.

  “Won’t you sit down?” Olivia said, pulling a couple of chairs from a neighboring table to their own.

  “Sure,” Tad said. “Mom, why don’t you sit and I’ll order your ice cream. Butter pecan, right? One scoop?”

  “Exactly right,” she said as she eased herself into the chair. “Now, Olivia, dear, tell me all about yourself. I want to know everything.”

  “Well…I don’t know what Tad has told you already…”

  “I know that you’re a great programmer, that you like your coffee black, that you have two children, and that you’re recently separated from your husband.” She looked sympathetic. “My own husband died seven years ago. Being alone isn’t easy; I can’t imagine doing it with two little ones. Although I’m sure you both don’t give your mother any trouble, right?” she turned to Beatrice and Bradley with a twinkle in her eye.

  “No ma’am,” they said in unison. Olivia silently reminded herself to praise them later for remembering the ma’am.

  “I don’t think there’s much more to tell,” she said to the older woman with a smile. “Oh, pooh,” Francine waved her hand dismissively. “There’s loads more! What’s your favorite book? The last movie you saw? How do you think the president is doing so far? Do you go to church? And why-oh-why can’t my Thaddeus find himself a nice woman like yourself to marry?”

  Olivia coughed and swallowed hard. Francine’s eyes were still twinkling merrily.

  “Okay, let’s see. My favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird. The last movie I saw that wasn’t a cartoon was Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which was on TV last weekend. I was taught to never discuss politics or religion in polite company, and I don’t think I’m at liberty to speak on Tad’s relationships.”

  Francine laughed long and loud, a bubbly, genuine guffaw that put Olivia completely at ease.

  “I like you very much, my dear,” she said, leaning forward to pat her hand. “Don’t mind me and my impertinent questions. When you get to my age you think you’re allowed to say anything!”

  “I suppose you’ve earned that right,” Olivia said with a smile of her own. Tad returned with two cones and handed one of them to his mother.

  “I see by your red face that Mom has been asking you personal questions,” he said, eyebrows raised.

  “Er, yes. A little.”

  “Pooh,” Francine said again. “You know I have! I asked her why you couldn’t find a nice woman like her to settle down with.”

  Olivia waited for him to cough and sputter as she had, but instead he tasted his ice cream cone and smiled benignly.

  “You see, Olivia, Tad here had a terrible break-up ten years ago. Shattered his heart all to pieces. He swore off relationships.”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” he protested mildly. “I’m just…cautious.”

  “Cautious!” she said. “You’re terrified.”

  “What show did you go to see?” Olivia asked, anxious to change the subject, although Tad looked unperturbed by the current stream of conversation.

  “Rent,” Tad answered. “It was pretty good.”

  “Yes, it was,” Francine said. “I enjoyed it very much. Do you ever go to shows, Olivia?”

  “I don’t get to them much,” she said. “We’re all about cartoons here,” she nodded at her children. “But I used to perform plays in high school. I always loved that.” />
  “You should get involved in the community theater! I bet you would be brilliant! Tad here was in Death of a Salesman his senior year of high school. You should both do it; you would be wonderful together. I’ve been trying to talk him into it for years.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I just don’t know how to find time for that these days.”

  “I understand completely,” Francine said, nodding. “But they’re auditioning for A Curious Savage in October, and it would be lots of fun if you could pull it off. The two of you, on stage together! I can just see it.”

  “We’ll see,” Olivia had to admit, the idea of doing something just for herself was not without its appeal. “Maybe.”

  “Oh look, the little darling is falling asleep in his bowl,” Francine said, nodding in Bradley’s direction. It was true. Bradley was nodding off, practically into the remains of his sundae.

  “Oh my,” Olivia said. “I’d better get these two home and into bed.” They rose as she gathered Bradley into her arms, shaking her hand as she headed for the door.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Olivia,” Francine said. “I hope we can get together again soon.”

  “See you later, Olivia,” said Tad, opening the door for her.

  “See you, Tad.”

  Back in the confines of her car, Olivia was thoughtful as she shifted into drive. Tad’s mother was a hoot, and she was right about one thing. It wasn’t easy being alone. She wondered if that would ever change.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  “Okay honey, let’s set you up,” Shirley said, her fingers tapping over the keyboard as she accessed the Hey.com website at Olivia’s house the next Friday night. “The first thing to do is to find a really good photograph of you.”

  “Oh great,” Olivia groaned. “You know I take terrible photos. My eyes are always closed.”

  “I’m sure we can find a good one,” Sally said soothingly, patting Olivia’s shoulder. “And if we can’t, we’ll just take one!”

  “Let’s see, here are your photo albums,” Shirley opened a folder on the desktop and scanned its contents.