Part two of our rainy odyssey - enjoy! Let me know feedback as always....
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The windshield started to fog as she left the parking lot, her breath warmer than the cold air inside the black SUV. Olivia flicked on the de-fogger and started up the wipers - giving herself some visibility as she turned out of the Harvard parking lot and heading home. Behind her, she could see Peter in that old clunker of theirs following her. Smiling, she took her attention off the rearview mirror. It would be nice to go home, take off her chilly pantsuit and put on a warm cable sweater with toasty wool socks. One things about living in New England - wool socks became a necessity followed closely by Magic Hat #9 beer and a good raincoat.
It was the kind of weather meant for couples - for cuddling on a couch in front of a fire, watching a movie or just talking while the rain pattered on the window. It was a night for lounging in bed for no reason other than to be warm and close to someone. For Olivia, this kind of weather usually was accompanied by a good book, soft music, curling up in her chair with a thick blanket, and drinking some wine. Even with John nights like this were spent alone - he'd wanted to be so careful of disclosing this relationship. It had been a secret - a clean feeling of love tarnished by the need to sneak, to obscure. In the end, it hadn't been anything but a dirty little secret after she'd learned about his own secrets he kept from her. Oh John....is it horrible that there are times when I don't miss you? Don't long for your touch? She thought to herself as she turned onto her street.
Pulling up at the curb and turing off the engine, Liv took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes and let out a long overdue sigh.
"Good-bye, John," she said to herself. And it was time - past time. The constant beating herself up over whether or not he loved her, whether or not he was really protecting her - the arguments were put to rest with this admission of letting go. And this was her time to do it - not because of anything to do with others in her life. Finally, after months, Olivia was done with the questions - they were put into a box and filed away in her memory. Not forgotten but tucked away.
A knock on her window opened her eyes. Peter stood out in the rain, his hair soaked, a little wave in greeting. She smiled and grabbed her briefcase, opened the door, and dashed up the sidewalk with him to the porch of her townhouse. She grabbed the keys from her pocket and opened the door. Stepping inside, she realized the heat wasn't on and the home was almost as cold as it was outside. Peter wiped his shoes on the mat and came in with a shiver.
"I take it you weren't expecting our lovely April shower?" He said, taking off his coat and putting it on the coatrack. The rainwater had soaked down his back inside his coat and he was rubbing his hands together, blowing in them to get them warmer. Liv smiled, toeing off her own heeled boots and hanging up her jacket.
"I'll go turn the heat on. Do you want some dry clothes to put on? I'm sure I have some here that will fit you," she said, the words "they were John's" unspoken between the two of them. Better warm then cold - even if they are a dead man's clothes, Peter thought.
"That would be lovely - any chance to include dry socks in there as well? Despite the advertising, these boots were not waterproof."
"Would wool be ok?"
"Heavenly, thank you."
"Well, have a seat and I'll be right back." Olivia turned to go.
"Where are your glasses?" He asked, looking in the direction of the kitchen.
"Cabinet to the right of the sink, second shelf for the tumblers," and she walked out of the living room and into her bedroom. On her way, she bumped the thermostat to the 70's - knowing it would take some time for the older house to heat up. Going into her bedroom, she shut the door and quickly shed her chilly clothes. Standing there in her underwear, she grabbed a pair of favorite sweats and a worn t-shirt from her dresser. A pullover completed the ensemble along with thick wooly socks. Opening the bottom drawer of the dresser, Liv went through the "overnight" things John left at her house. Pulling out sweats, t-shirt, and zip hoodie, she stood up and made her way out of the room.
Meanwhile, Peter was rummaging in the cabinets for the tumblers. They were classic clear glass - just another example of Olivia's tastes. Always simple, classic, pristine, he thought. Not cool but with a fire underneath waiting to be stoked to life. Peter shook his head and grabbed two glasses. Taking them and the scotch, he went back into the living room and set them on the table. He walked over to the window and saw the rain coming down even harder than before.
"Looks like we should be expecting Noah's Ark to sail past," Liv said from behind him. She was wearing black fitting sweats with.....pink wool socks and a cream colored pullover. He'd never have pegged her for a pink lover. "These should fit," and she handed him a stack of clothes along with a towel. "The bathroom is around the corner or you can use the bedroom."
"Thank you," and he headed into the bedroom - closer of the two rooms. He shut the door and started taking off his damp attire. Goosebumps covered his bare skin as it came into contact with the air. Liv sat down and opened the bottle of scotch, pouring herself two fingers worth into a glass. She took a sip and glanced in the direction of the bedoorm. A blush spread over her face at what she saw. What Peter hadn't known was that the bedoomr door needed a firm nudge to close or it slowly crept open a foot. Before her was a naked except for his boxers Peter drying himself off with a towel. The muscles on his arms and back flexed and she made herself turn away from the sight. She rested her chin on a fist and turned back. He was clothed now in the sweats and pulling the t-shirt over his head, ab muscles flexing beneath the skin, a trail of hair leading south. Now her face really did turn red and she turned her whole body away from that sight.
Peter picked up his wet clothes, turned to walk out, and saw the slightly open door. Looking at Olivia, he saw her shaking her head and sipping the scotch. I hope she liked what she saw, he thought. He came out and stood next to the side of the couch.
"Warmer?" she said.
"Defnitely - I think it's the purple socks that do it," he said, pointing a "dainty" foot in her direction. She laughed and shook her head.
"What can I do with these?" Peter said, lifing up his clothes.
"I'll put them in the dryer - should be good to go by the time you leave," taking them from him and heading to the back of the house. Peter sat down on the other side of the couch and poured himself some of the scotch. Taking a sip, he felt the strong alcohol run down his throat and a flush of warmth went through him.
"Perfect," he said, leaning back and propping his feet up on the table. Olivia came back in and sat next to him, resuming her own scotch drinking.
"So....," he started, "what do you want to do on this fine evening?"
"How about a movie? I think I know just the one."
"Will it go well with scotch?"
"It should."
"As well as my lovely purple socks?"
"Even better than the socks."
"Ok, set it up. Do you have anything to munch on here? I didn't get a chance to eat during my errand running for Walter."
"I have some leftover spaghetti in the fridge that Rachel made."
"Sounds excellent - where is she tonight?"
"Visting friends in Vermont with Ella. They'll be back on Tuesday next week." She stood and padded to the kitchen. "Be right back." Turning the corner, she opened the fridge and grabbed the tupperware containers of leftovers. Opening the microwave, she stuck them in and hit the timer. She grabbed parmesan and what was left of the french bread from last night. She put them on the table in front of Peter and went back to grab plates, forks, and the now heated food.
"Wow," Peter said as the spread was laid before him, "can I come over every night?"
"Only when Rachel cooks - my cooking is better known as Mr. Wong's House of Noodles," she smiled. Getting up, she went to the cabinet underneath the TV and fished around for awhile before pulling out a DVD. Cueing it up, she walked back to the couch and hit play on the remote. The screen came on and the title came up.
"Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Really? I haven't seen this in years," he said. "I never pegged you for a secret lover of shrubbery."
"Well, there is a lot you don't know about me."
"I'd like to find out," he said and the air froze. Both of them looked at each other and could not look away. It was the first time either of them had dared to poke at the line between them. Swallowing, Liv turned back to the food, breaking the moment.
"Hurry up and eat before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma'am," he said and dug in.
The food went quickly and both of them leaned back into the couch. Soon laughter kept coming out as the movie played. The French taunter had always been one of Olivia's favorite scenes and she nearly doubled over in laughter watching the cow fly through the air to land on the hapless knights. Peter's favorite was the bridge the knights needed to cross.
"What? Wait, I don't knoooooooowwww," Peter mimicked the falling old man's voice perfectly, sending Olivia into another fit of laughter.
The movie was over too soon and they were both still chuckling over the ending. Sweeping her long hair back from her face, Olivia started to pick up the empty plates. A hand on her wrist stopped her.
"Oh no, you cooked, I clean."
"I microwaved - that's hardly cooking."
"In my world, that is the sign of a world-class chef," he smirked and gathered up everything before she could say more. Olivia filled her glass with another three fingers of scotch - noticing for the first time that nearly a third of the bottle was already gone. Shrugging, she leaned back into the scotch and grabbed the throw on the back of the sofa, wrapping it around her lap and legs. She turned the TV off and clicked the remote for the stereo instead. Instantly, soft Sarah McLachlan began over the stereo. It was a girly choice but she didn't really care - it was her house and she was entitled to her choice.
Choice - there was an interesting concept, she thought. I chose to be here tonight, in my old, worn clothes wearing ridiculous socks, watching ridiculous movies with Peter, who I used to think was nothing more than a pensive, angry child. She sipped her drink, listening to the sound of the dishes being cleaned and put in the dishwasher. This is a far cry from who I thought he was, she mused.
Peter wiped his hands on a dish towel and headed back into the living room. Liv was curled up in a corner of the couch with her scotch, a warm looking blanket around her, and.....was that Sarah McLachlan on the stereo?
"Lilith Fair fan?" he asked, sitting back down.
"No, just a Sarah fan."
"I pictured you leaning more towards the orchestral," he said, pouring himself more scotch.
"Sometimes," she sipped. "Did you want to listen to something else?"
"No, no - this is good. *I* did go to Lilith Fair after all."
"Girlfriend drag you?"
"As a matter of fact......yes but I did come away from it with a higher appreciation of chick rock." He said. "I swear Natalie Merchant almost had me in tears."
"I see. So.....," she began.
"So...," he sighed, leaning his head back. "This is nice."
"What is?"
"Just being able to sit here, talking about things that have nothing to do with saving the world, drinking scotch, and -," he stopped, his next words being "being here with you".
"Well, likewise. I don't think I've had a break in-,"
"-months?" Peter interrupted. "We do tend to run on all cylinders constantly, don't we?"
"Yes but I wouldn't trade it for a 9-5," she said. "I like knowing that I am making a difference - as frustrating as it can be, as hard as it is to see all the things we see....I end the day knowing I helped someone, that I did something to make the world better."
"I never had such great aspirations of greatness," Peter said, looking down at the drink he was swirling in his hand. "I never looked past the next week, the next month. Life was always a game and I was determined to win it even though I didn't know what winning was."
"And now?"
"Now I feel guilty for all the time I wasted," he gulped down the rest of his drink and inhaled sharply as it burned inside him. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you the pyschiatrist."
"Don't be - I know I'm not the most forthcoming with my own problems but I am a good listener." She said, putting a hand on his back. She felt him stiffen and then relax under her touch. She started to rub circles on his back, knowing it always felt good when someone did this to her. His head dropped down as his elbows rested on his knees. He let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and concentrated on her hand. The soothing motion stopped and he felt a nudge against his side. "Turn around," she said. He did and then groaned when he felt her knead his knotted shoulders. The massage felt wonderful - she was good at this. After ten minutes or so, she stopped and he turned back to face her.
"Thank you - that was wonderful," he said, stretching.
"Relaxed?" She asked.
"Definitely." Which was followed by a yawn and then a shiver. "Hey Liv, does it feel cold in here to you?"
"Yes, it does - I turned the thermostat to 70 and it was warm in here." She got up and checked - sure enough, it was set to 70 but there was no heat coming out of the vent when she checked it. "Heat must be out - it happens sometimes. I'll call the repair guy in the morning - it's already near midnight," she said, checking her watch. "I didn't realize it was so late."
"Are you in the mood for another movie?" He asked, "I don't think I'm in driving shape right now," pointing to the declining amount of alcohol in the bottle.
"It's a Friday night. I'm not getting up early tomorrow morning. But I am going to go get some more blankets."