“Very well.” A warm breeze blows, and I am embraced by her scent. She smells like a glass of lemonade in a garden of lavender and roses after having the best sex of your life. “And how have you been for the past half decade since we last saw each other?”
She laughs, shakes her head. “In a word? Fine. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Great,” she says. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Yes.” I start walking up the sidewalk, for our walk and talk, eventually realizing that she isn’t keeping up with me. I stop and turn around to find her where I left her, with her fists on her hips. That exasperated look on her face. An expression I’m so familiar with, and I have to say I’ve missed it. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
“To your apartment. I’m walking with you.”
Her immaculately shaped brows knit together as she slowly approaches me, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You do realize I haven’t invited you to my home, right?”
“If you don’t want me to go inside, I won’t. But I’m walking you home. Perhaps by the time we get there, you’ll invite me in so you can hear what I have to say.”
She snort-laughs. It’s my second-favorite kind of Olivia laugh. “Perhaps. How did you know to walk this way?”
“I know where you live.”
“My brother told you?”
“He wanted me to check on you, actually.”
“He did?”
“He was concerned about the recent incident. With the photographer.”
“He was?”
“He didn’t go into any detail. He just said that your mom mentioned you had an uncomfortable experience with a photographer.”
“I can’t believe she told Nathan.” She seems quite bewildered by this. “It wasn’t that bad—he just tried to touch me in a way that I didn’t approve of, and I left. End of story. I guess I was just lucky that it never happened before.”
“It’s not okay that it happened to you at all, Olivia,” I tell her. “I’m sorry that it did.”
She nods once and then looks down. “Well.” She gestures in the direction I was heading. “Shall we?”
We walk in silence for about half a block. I watch as she tilts her face up to the sun, takes in a deep breath of fresh air, and exhales the stale energy of the shift she just endured. I feel a shudder inside because deep down I know that this is exactly what I want to do with her. Turn my face to her. Receive her warmth and life-giving beauty. Get her to let me in so I can release all the tension from a decade of striving and achieving in the cold world of tech and finance. More than a decade, if I’m being honest. My whole life.
And I know that I can’t. I know what my goals are, and I know what my schedule looks like. I’m a sensible person. I didn’t build an empire by indulging in desires and base instincts.
I see the girl I once knew is still in there, her open heart beating inside a chest that I tried to ignore for ten years. She still smiles at strangers. A dog that’s sitting calmly on the sidewalk next to an alfresco table sees her and suddenly bounds over, tail wagging. She bends down, greeting the dog, rubbing its fur, laughing with the dog’s owner, and gently guiding the dog back toward the table. Moments later, she makes eye contact with a pouting baby who’s being pushed in a stroller. The baby spots her, both their faces light up, and the baby begins flapping her hands spastically, filled with joy just from seeing Olivia.
I have never been so envious of a baby. I don’t know that I could ever respond to this woman with such naked emotion. I don’t know that either of us could handle it. But I’m happy to see that other people see what I see in her. All I’ve ever wanted is for my best friend’s little sister to have the life she deserves. It has just taken me all this time to figure out how I can give it to her.
This street is nice enough, but the neighborhood isn’t nice enough for Olivia. I know her brother helped her find a place that is in the safest neighborhood she can afford that’s within a twenty-minute Muni ride of the Bay Area Dance Company and within walking distance of a restaurant she can work at in the summers. Because she doesn’t drive. I could have just bought her a townhouse in Pacific Heights and paid for a car service, but people don’t like it when I offer to just buy them things. They need to feel like they’re helpingmein return for what I can offer.
And people think I don’t understand people. I understand them. They’re the ones who don’t understand me, and I don’t have time to explain everything to everyone.
Finally, Olivia breaks the silence by saying, “You live in Palo Alto, right?”
“That’s correct. Since I graduated from MIT. I have a house there. You’ll see it.”
“Oh, will I? Do you come into the city much?”
“Thiscity?”
