Lily White Lies (21 page)

I winced when the warm cloth touched the wounded area of my cheek.  Several strands of hair had already begun to stick to the drying blood and he carefully picked them out.

“I couldn’t find bandages, but there was ointment in the medicine cabinet.  I’ll try not to hurt you when I put it on.”

I did my best to hide all signs of pain as he rubbed the ointment onto my bruised face.  I could see sympathy in his eyes and I didn’t want him to feel any worse than he already did for something that wasn’t his fault.

“It isn’t very deep so I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but... your friends will probably think I beat you while we were here.”

I offered a smile while he finished cleaning me up.

When he was through, he set the ointment next to the dish of water on the coffee table and picked up a pile of neatly folded clothing.

“I’m sorry; I had to go through your bag.  I hope these are alright.”  He held up a Kirkland sweatshirt and a pair of Levis.  Before I could answer, he lowered his head and casting his glance slightly to the side, held out a bra, a pair of socks and a black thong, saying, “I thought you might need these, too.”

It felt a little odd, having someone I had never been intimate with hand me my most intimate articles of clothing. 

I sat upright and shoved my weight forward in an attempt to stand.  Lessening my struggle, he took hold of my arm and helped me to my feet.

“I’d like to get the blood and dirt out of my hair and take a bath before I put on clean clothes.”

“I can’t blame you.  Here, let me help you up the stairs.”

Still a little stunned by my collision with the tree, I took the stairs one at a time, Con’s protective arm wrapped firmly around my waist with each one.  His attentiveness, my unexplainable calm, our situation—all elements of the most awkward weekend of my life, but somehow, it was all beginning to feel so natural.

I stood in the middle of the bathroom and watched as he placed my clothes on the vanity, ran my water and checked for everything I’d need for a bath.

“Okay then.  I think that should do it.”  He turned to leave and then suddenly stopped and turned around.  “If you need anything else, I’ll be right here.”

“Right... here?”

Motioning to the hallway, he answered, “If you’d like—but I was referring to right... out here.  I’d feel better sticking around in case you feel dizzy or need anything.”

A nod and a simple smile replaced my verbal reply as he closed the door behind him.  Just knowing that he was on the other side of the door was enough to send a chill up my back that would take more than a soak in warm water to eliminate.

I was certain he wouldn’t swing the door open without an invitation, but visions of him doing so danced through my head.  I had a whole scenario playing out and wondered if he could forget the girl of his dreams long enough to see me in the same light.

With my dirty clothes lying on the floor, I stared at the door between us for several seconds, and then said, “Maybe we should talk while I’m in here... so that you know I’m still okay.”  I stepped into the water and shivered.  Before he could reply, I continued.  “So tell me, this girl of your dreams, what’s she like?  I’m picturing her as... maybe a Julia Robert’s type.”

I heard his laugh, even through the door that separated us.  “No, too much smile.”

“Okay, what about Lisa Kudrow?”

“Too blonde.  How about you?  Let’s see, who’s your type?  Hugh Grant maybe?”

“Too... well, too much hair going on there.  How about Sandra Bullock?”

“Too perfect,” he paused, “but your hair reminds me of hers.”

I laughed.  “What’s too perfect?”

“You know, too smart, too pretty, too spunky, too talented... too perfect.  Don’t change the subject...  Tom Cruise?”

“No, too short.  Angelina?”

“Too Brad.  It’s hard to tell where one ends and the other one begins.  But how about you... for Brad Pitt?”

“Too pretty.”  I tipped my head back in the water to soak my hair.  “I give up, who is the woman of your dreams?”

There was a long silence and I instinctively cocked my head to listen for sounds of movement on the other side of the door.  He finally replied, “Keeping with famous people, I’d have to say Ashley Judd would come close.  She has a petite, pretty face and she always seems to be smiling.  She’s smart enough, talented enough and funny enough, but not too much of anything.”

I didn’t reply.  Instead, I sat quietly, thought about her qualities and wondered if I had any of them.

“What about you?  You shot down all of my suggestions.  Who’s your type?”

I gave his question some thought, and then joked, “Wow, I didn’t realize how tough this question was when I was asking it to you.”

He laughed and said, “Tell me about it,” quickly adding, “But I answered.”

“Yes you did.”  Running the warm cloth lightly over my skin, I inhaled deeply and said, “I guess I’d have to say Matthew McConaughey.  Nice body, great smile... and, oh, that accent...  I could listen to him talk all day.”

“What attracts you to a man when you first...?”

“Confidence.”

“That was fast.”

“It was an easy question.  You?”

“Not having too much of anything but having just enough of everything.”

I laughed.  “Ashley Judd.”

“Not exactly, but you’ve got the idea.”

I wanted to know something but I hesitated several times before talking myself into asking.

“This woman of your dreams... how do you know she represents your future wife?  I mean, couldn’t she be... a long, lost cousin or your first crush from elementary school?”

There was a long silence and I imagined him running a hand through his sun-streaked hair, contemplating his answer.

“I’ve always assumed that she’s my wife because she’s always portrayed that way.  I sense the bond between us, even in the dream.  She often appears in my dream with two young boys and a little girl; I’ve always wanted three children.”  He paused.  “I don’t know how to explain it.  She just fits.”

I asked, “And you say you haven’t met her yet,” and bit down on my lower lip, almost afraid to hear his answer.  My anticipation heightened to nerve-racking proportions as the seconds between my question and his answer passed.

“Yes, I have.”

I opened my mouth to ask the question I most wanted to know the answer to, but nothing came out.  Several attempts brought several failures—I didn’t have the guts to ask him who it was that had captured his heart so long ago.

I finished my bath in silence and then he helped me back to the couch where we resumed our conversation, this time keeping to less personal and easier-to-answer topics.  I learned that we each like the color blue, Chinese take-out, baseball as opposed to football and the old stuff by ‘Skynyrd’.  I like romantic comedies and he enjoys action films while neither of us cares for the colors of winter or the Jerry Springer show.  Tom Hanks is our favorite actor but ‘Catch Me if You Can’ was a bit disappointing.  We each have a tendency to sleep late on an occasional Sunday in lieu of attending church and neither of us cared for any of the candidates in the last election and therefore, did not vote. 

With every trivial bit of information he offered, I found myself grasping for more.  I wanted to know the important things like, which side of the bed he prefers, does he save for summer vacations or home improvements, and how he’d like his eggs... every morning for the rest of his life.

Seventeen

...This was one of those rare moments in life when, presented with an opportunity to do something so daring, so utterly out of character it would take pictures of the event to convince anyone that I had actually done it, I was going to blow it in the name of good judgment and rational thought, cursing myself for... well...  probably forever...

While Con went outside in search of firewood, I sat alone with my thoughts.  I couldn’t help but wonder if this weekend was my punishment for the way I handled things with Brian.  I had abruptly and awkwardly ended a three year relationship in a matter of minutes because I didn’t want him and now, one day later, I am stranded with the man of my dreams, and I can’t have him.  Whoever coined the phrase, ‘it’s a cruel world’, must have found them selves in a very similar situation.

The door had no sooner flung open and hit the wall when I felt the cold draft slice through me.  The rain and a drop in temperature had caused a chill in the air that brought goose bumps and sporadic shivers with it.

“This should be enough to get us through the night.”  Con’s words sounded strained under the weight of an armload of wood.

As I made my way to the kitchen, I said, “I really thought they would be back for us by now,” and casually glanced in his direction in the hopes of catching his reaction.

“I figure they’ll be back tomorrow sometime.  That’ll give us a chance to get to know each other without missing work on Monday.”

Thinking aloud, I said, “I guess their plan is working, I feel like I’ve learned a lot about you today.”

“There’s a lot more if you’re interested.”

I noted the playful tone in his voice and responded in an equally playful tone.  “Really?”

Pulling up a stool on the opposite side of the island, he said, “If you promise to take it to your grave, I’ll let you in on one of my more embarrassing moments.”

I eagerly replied, “Okay.”

“Deal is, you’ll have to share one of your most embarrassing moments with me when I’m through... you know, in case you ever tell, I can get even.”

I hesitated only briefly, then smiled and nodded.

“This is a pitiful story, but so help me, it’s true.  When I was in grade school, I used to have to trick the girls into kissing me.”

Thinking aloud, I said, “I find that hard to believe.”

He raised his right hand and said, “I swear it’s true.”  Slouching into an even more relaxed position on his stool, he continued, “I used to bring my pet frog to school and at recess, we’d all head out to the playground.  Everyday I’d pick a different girl and ask her if she’d kiss me.”  He picked a piece of tomato from the bowl and ate it before continuing.  “Of course, they’d always say no, so then I’d pull out my frog and with the enthusiasm of a charlatan, I’d say, ‘This here is a magic frog.  One kiss from a pretty girl and he’ll turn into a charming prince.  Who wants to turn this sorry frog into the prince he deserves to be?’  They’d never believe me right off, but I had my grandfather’s gift of gab and I’d always talk them into it.”

“You’re making this up.”

“No I tell you, every word is true,” he assured.  “Anyway, I’d tell them that there were two rules they had to follow in order for the magic to work.  I told them that they had to keep their eyes closed and that they had to count to five before they opened them.”

I handed him the salad bowl and tongs and he began to mix while he relayed his childhood story.

“I’d hold that frog right in front of them and—well, after a bunch of faces—when they’d close their eyes and pucker up, I’d shove that frog back into my pocket and kiss them myself.”

I couldn’t help but laugh aloud.  “I can’t imagine you having to steal kisses.  If you had told me that the girls used to line up to kiss you, I would have believed you sooner.”

He stared at me for several moments and I thought I caught a glimpse of affection in his gaze but chose to ignore it.  It would be foolish to read anything into our situation.  I knew that once we returned to our lives in Upper Darby, this weekend would be no more than a fond memory to him.

“Okay, your turn.”

I didn’t have to give any thought to my most embarrassing moment; it had etched itself into my memory forever.

“It was at a college dorm party.  A bunch of us would use the campus pool on Wednesday nights...  a free swim... just for something different to do.  We had invented the pool version of spin the bottle where someone, say a girl, would throw pennies into the pool and then all the guys would jump in to retrieve them.  The guy who came up with the most pennies would get to kiss the girl.”

“Sounds like fun.”

I laughed.  “Well, it could be.  Thing is, you never knew who was going to be kissing you and sometimes it was the guy you least wanted to kiss.  Anyway, there was this one guy, Mark Fiorelli; I had the biggest crush on him.  It was his turn to throw and I was determined to come up with the most pennies.  I had two and saw a third one near the vacuum.”  Handing him the salad dressing, I slowly continued, “I guess I got too close to the vacuum and the string from my top got caught...”

“No way!”

I nodded.  “I wanted to die right there at the bottom of the pool.  When I finally surfaced, I think I was already crying although, thankfully, no one could tell.  I saw Cory and Charlotte standing at the edge of the pool.  They were just yelling and cheering, ‘You won, Meg.  Lay one on him,’ as if it made no difference that I lost my top.”

Looking directly at him, I said, “And I did.  In front of everyone, I marched right over to him and I kissed him liked I’d never kissed anyone before.  I still don’t know what affected him more, the kiss or the fact that I was naked from the waist up, but I left him speechless.  It was so out of character for me to do anything like that.”  My tone became more serious, as I said, “I can’t explain it but ever since I’ve known them; Cory and Charlotte have been my strength.  They bring out something in me that I can’t seem to find in myself.”