Chapter 16
The next evening I met Oliver at Fordham to let him in, as he no longer had his own access. We were making our way to the darkroom, and as we rounded a corner, I found myself trailing behind him, taking in his broad, muscular shoulders, his tapering back . . . He had a swimmer’s body. His legs were long and strong. He suddenly turned around and looked at me. “I probably should have done this in my new studio, but I figured we might as well use Wolfe’s. . .” He grinned, and I quickly lifted my gaze to meet his, hoping he hadn’t caught me checking him out.
When we reached the dark room, I unlocked the door.
“Want to see what we’ve got?” he asked.
I nodded.
He opened the double doors, and I felt overpowered by the smell of pungent chemicals.
“This is it.” There was a buzzing noise before the red lights came on. In the center of the room was an island topped with square trays. Around the perimeter of the room were booths with machines in them. Streams of photos clipped to a wire hung from the ceiling.
I said in a low voice, “I feel like I’m in a horror movie.”
“Don’t worry babe. I’ll protect you!”
I laughed as I slowly walked along, studying the hanging photos of anorexic, high-end models.
“So, what we’re doing is developing 35MM film,” he said. “First thing we do is rewind so we can take it out of the camera.” He began furiously twisting a knob on the top of his camera. “We’re going to develop it, hang it, then take it into the handy-dandy private lab where we’ll use the enlarger. . .”
As dorky as he was in that moment, it was kind of hot watching him in his element.
“So we can use the Patterson tank here, which is just a little tank into which we put our 35MM reel with our chemicals, or we can tray process. Let’s start with tray processing.” He handed me a pair of gloves.
“We lay the sheets carefully into the tray, giving them a little bath like so. . . .” He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me in front of him. “Try it,” he said. I swallowed hard as I felt the warmth of his body against mine. He showed me how to flip and ‘agitate’ the film.
“There,” I said. “Agitated enough?”
“Definitely,” he replied.
I took a deep breath. It was getting hot in this small room.
“After this, we give our film a bath.”
Watching him show me his world with such expertise and enthusiasm was entertaining—not to mention extremely sexy.
“We set it into a tank which prevents all light from entering, and wash it in water. . .” he continued talking, throwing out terminology I’d never heard before. “. . .because D70-6 solution is the. . .” I was no longer listening to what he was saying. I had become way more intent upon the nearness of his body. It was like a magnetic pull.
“There we go, freshly exposed black and white film.”
He loaded the film around the wheel, smoothly and gracefully, treating it with great care. “So, are you still seeing Charlie?” he asked suddenly, jarring me out of my sensual trance. “Now, put the film in the tank,” he went on, without waiting for me to answer, and he plopped it into a small canister. “Chemicals.” He smiled and poured in a potent smelling liquid.
“You look like a mad scientist,” I said, “flipping the canister of film, pouring liquid here, dumping it there.”
“Now, the film is washed and ready.” He put his hands on his hips, and he looked into my eyes. He held my gaze.
I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.
“Well?” he asked.
“Fascinating,” I said. “Watching you.”
“He’s not good enough for you, Bobbie.”
Without thinking I stepped towards him, and leaning in, I touched his chest. He didn’t move, and I could hear his breath in the quiet of the darkroom. I closed my eyes and lifted my head just a little, hoping to feel his soft lips against mine.
One moment passed, then another.
But nothing happened. I opened my eyes, he was looking down at me, and then—at the photos.
I stepped back, afraid. “Oh,” I uttered, “Olly--I’m--ugh--sorry.”
“For?” He began to reorganize the film in the tray. My heart sank.
He moved past me to the laundry wire, unclipped a few photos and handed them to me.
“Here, you may want to review these. They’re the ones I already developed earlier today.”
“I didn’t know you came earlier. I thought you were busy.”
“I finished early and came over. Joey let me in.”
I risked a glance at him, but he wouldn’t look at me. The silence was awkward, and my heart raced. How did I so completely misread him? I was so embarrassed. Everyone was wrong. He didn’t like me. How did I not see it? I shifted my gaze, looking down at the photos. Scanning through them quickly, I realized most of them were photos of Charlie.
Oliver looked away and made himself busy. “So, I still have quite a few of these to do tonight...you don’t have to stick around,” he added, dipping film in the tray.
Was that his way of asking me to leave?
“Okay, then. . .” I took off my gloves, throwing them in a trash bin. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gave me a nod. I walked out the door with tears in my eyes. I stood outside the darkroom for a moment, pacing back and forth, wondering if I should go back in and apologize or if I should swing open the door, grab him and kiss him. I banged my head against the wall, turning and covering my mouth, mortified, as the moment replayed in my head.
I thought of how Ivy wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. She would’ve turned around and charged in there and made it happen. Me? I was a crab, and I retreated into my shell. I hurried to the elevator, pressing the button for what felt like a hundred times as I waited impatiently. Get me out of here!
I walked out of the building, my head woozy from the smell of chemicals. At first I thought I was hallucinating when I heard someone yelling my name. I recognized the accent before I saw the face. I turned to see buff and beautiful kiwi man, jogging towards me, his hair flopping on his shoulders.
“Zander, what are you still doing here? It’s late!”
He stopped to catch his breath and brush back his hair. “Get a drink with me, will you?” He asked.
And I wasn’t about to turn him down.“Okay.”
We walked to a bar around the corner. He seemed quieter, shyer than he’d been at the after-party. Did I make him nervous? His accent was by far the sexiest thing about him. I couldn’t get enough of it, as he leaned over the bar ordering our drinks from the bartender—a beer for him, Pinot Noir for me.
“Liking Chicago?” I asked.
“Better now,” he flirted. He was so light-hearted, yet his life seemed filled with adventure and intensity. He spoke of his spiritual experience when he hiked the Kakoda Trail in the mountains of New Guinea. He made it sound like a mythical fairy land, a place you’d only dream about. He made me want to escape, with his free-bird approach to life.
“There is no better place than New Zealand. It’s green for miles and miles, and the locals are the nicest people you’ll ever meet,” he said winking at me.
“Really? I’ve only met one New Zealander, and he was kind of boring,” I teased.
“Impossible!” He retorted as he moved closer to me.
But as he talked, I realized I was treating him like Olly. Then I realized I wished he was Olly. I couldn’t get my mind off what had happened. I didn’t know what was going on. Why did I come on to him like that? Why did he reject me? Did he reject me? Was I high on the fumes? Was that what made me want to touch him? What was he thinking right now?
I needed to admit it to m
yself. I wanted to be with Oliver. I can’t believe I was fighting it this whole time. Why hadn’t I realized it before?
“Bobbie?” Zander’s voice cut through my reverie. “Hey, you look like you’re a million miles away.”
I snapped back into the present. “You’re right. I’m sorry. There is somewhere I need to be,” I said. Zander was a great guy, and I would have loved to get to know him better. But tonight, my mind was full of Oliver.
I grabbed my coat and walked back towards Fordham, hoping I might catch Oliver on his way out of the building, or still in the darkroom.
My phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. “Where are you?” Oliver asked.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Bobbie, I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Meet me at our spot?”
“Okay.”
He hung up.
I shouldn’t have come on to him like that, I kept telling myself. I had freaked him out. Now he wanted to set things straight to tell me it would never work. He liked me as a friend. That’s all. I felt like such an idiot. I hailed a cab.
“Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool!” I said to the driver. It had been our favorite meeting spot since high school.
“The zoo’s closed at this hour of night ma’am,” the dark-eyed driver stated.
“I’m aware!”
I bit my nails the whole way to the Lily Pool, when I wasn’t playing with my necklace and fidgeting with my hair. I’m a wreck! Pull yourself together, Roberta! Why did I even care about what Oliver thought of me? I felt out of my element.
Then I thought about it. I had always cared about what Olly thought of me. Of all the opinions of all my friends, it was his I valued most. I rubbed my hands together nervously.
After throwing money at the cab driver, I leapt out of the car and ran towards the lily pool, hoping I’d see Oliver standing there waiting for me. As I whipped around the corner, I slowed, attempting to catch my breath.
“Olly?” I looked around, but Oliver was nowhere to be found. My feet were killing me so I took off my shoes and ran barefoot, ruining the bottoms of my tights. I sat down on a stone. Here, the city was silent, except for the hum of traffic from nearby Lake Shore Drive...and the sound of my own breath. My throat ached as I gasped in the cold air.
One minute went by.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Sixteen minutes.
Where was he?
My hands were stiff with cold. I blew into them. C’mon Oliver. I heard the thump of feet as he ran around the corner, coming to save the day, coming to save me.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” I said darkly.
“But I asked you to meet me,” he said. “You knew I’d show.”
“I know. Listen, I’m so sorry about. . . what happened in the dark room. I think it must have been the fumes.”
“The fumes? I hope not.”
“But you...”
As I spoke, my cell phone slowly slipped from my ice cold hands. Oliver and I both went down for it at the same time, smacking heads. His mouth hit my forehead, and my forehead had no mercy on his mouth. “Ah!” I yelped, grabbing my head.
“Shit, Bobbie,” he exclaimed. He licked his bottom lip, checking for blood.
“I’m really not trying to kill you,” I cried, gently touching his face. “Are you bleeding?”
“Minor flesh wound,” he said. We looked at each other and burst into laughter.
I guided him to sit down on the stone bench. I covered my mouth trying to stop laughing, apologizing again.
He sighed. “Can we go back to talking about what happened in the darkroom and the way I rejected you?”
“Rejection, ouch. Yes.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
He sat in silence, putting his head in his hands.
“Oliver, what’s wrong?”
He looked up at me, as if in pain.
“Is it your lip?”
“No, Bobbie, it’s not my lip,” he said quietly.
“Then what is it?”
He sighed and looked out into the distance. He looked at me again. “Bobbie, honestly, do you know how hard it is to want someone, to want someone so badly and not be able to have her?”
He inhaled a large gulp of air. “No,” he said, “you don’t. Do you know what it’s like when every time you see that person, you’re different because she brings out the best in everyone?” He stared at me in the darkness.
What was going on? I didn’t understand what he was trying to say. He couldn’t be talking about me. I knew that much. I felt my stomach drop. Maybe it was Lilly or even Ivy.
Looking down at his hands, he continued, “This is all really forward, but I can’t take it anymore. You just need to know, Bobbie.”
“Did I do something to upset you, Olly?” I asked softly. “If I did, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s the exact opposite,” he blurted.
“Talk to me.” I touched his arm.
“Do you realize I’ve had to see you almost every day of my life since high school, and you’ve driven me nearly insane? I can’t get enough of you. You’re the only person I want to be around all the time. You bring out the best version of me--you always have. I see you sometimes, and I want to be the one who makes you laugh until you do that snort thing you can’t control. I want to be the one who makes you happy. And I don’t want to see you with some asshole who doesn’t deserve you.”
It was all pouring out now.
“I love that you laugh at me even when I’m not funny,” he said. “I love that you laugh at your own jokes even when they aren’t funny. I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but I can’t help but feel it’s just the beginning of what it could be for us. There are so many more adventures in store for both of us. I want to go through them all with you. I want you, and I will wait for you to figure out whatever it is you’re looking for, but I’m telling you. . . the answers are not here . . .” He poked my head with his finger. “They’re here,” he said, touching my chest, just above my sternum. His touch seemed to burn through my clothing.
“I’m afraid,” he said. “You are the most amazingly beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know . . .”
He wasn’t a poet, but he was honest and stronger than I was. I was blown away. I had thought Olly had a crush on me, but it was much more than that. I realized that I needed his bravery. He was a solid rock, and I was liquid.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“You don’t know how bad it is,” he said. “Why are you smiling?” he asked. “I’m being totally serious with you, Bobbie.”
“I know, I know you are. But the way you’re talking,” I said, “it’s crazy. I’m nothing special. In fact, I’m a mess. You know that better than anyone. I’m an emotional train wreck. I’m constantly second-guessing myself. I’m overly sensitive and flat-out insecure. I search and search for some kind of stable ground, but can’t ever seem to find it. I’m vain and tend to care about things that don’t really matter. . .”
He interrupted me. “Bobbie, don’t you think I know you by now? If anything, you try far too hard. I know you do it all because you care and you worry, but you don’t even realize what you’re capable of.” He gave me a strange look, scrunching his eyebrows and narrowing his eyes.
“You’re not broken, Bobbie. You don’t need to be fixed. And you don’t have to be with someone who doesn’t get you. You can do so much better than Charlie.”
“Yes. I know.”
“You. . . do?”
“Yes. Olly, I haven’t been with
Charlie since I moved into my new place.”
“Really? But I thought. . . why didn’t you tell me?”
“Maybe for the same reason you didn’t tell me about the studio. I had to make sure I had the strength to make it stick.”
“And did you? Have the strength, I mean?”
“I don’t even need strength for it anymore,” I said with a smile. “Because it’s easy.”
“It is?”
“Yes. What I need the strength for now, is. . . getting you to see that I—that I want. . .”
“You want?” he encouraged me softly.
“I want you, Oliver.”
He looked down at me. All of a sudden there was no need for words. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. His lips pressed against mine in the most gentle kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly flared into something else entirely, becoming hungry and desperate, and it left us both breathless. It was strange, scary, and exciting, but it felt like coming home.
My hands were numb. My ears, nose, and the tips of my toes were ice, but my heart was racing. I looked up to see whether the clouds had parted right above us, and the stars were on fire. He looked up too.
“Remember when I used to make up the names of constellations?” I asked.
He laughed. “Yeah, like calling the big dipper Andromenapolous.”
“I just did it to impress you, you know.”
“Impress me? Really?”
“Uh huh.” I laughed, blushing. I thought, There is no other place in the world I’d rather be than sitting in the dark with him by my side. “What would I do without you, Olly?”
“You’d probably find yourself in a white padded room in a straight jacket.”
I pretended to take a swing at him, and he gently grabbed my hand. “Jesus, your hands are ice!”
“I know!”
“We better go.”
“I don’t want to go. I’m happy here. But I don’t want you to get hypothermia.”
He had his arms around me, trying to keep me warm. “Do you know the best way to take care of hypothermia?” he asked.
“How?”
“Naked body warmth,” he said.
“Hmm. I wonder how we might arrange that?”
“I’ve got an idea.”
I could hear his heart pounding, the rhythm of the blood pumping through his veins thrilled me. My heart was sinking into the depths of the earth. It was the closest I’d ever been to crying tears of joy. My throat ached as I fought back my tears.
“You hear that?” he asked.
“Hear what?” I asked. “All I hear is your heartbeat.”
“Listen, it’s music.”
“Mr. Prince, there’s no music.” I tried listening, but heard nothing but the wind.
He stood and extended his hand. “Dance with me, my princess.” He smiled. “My darling.”
I stood up from the stone bench and took his warm hand. He twirled me around and pulled me close. “You’re the one for me,” his lips murmured against my hair.
We spent the rest of the evening walking, talking, hugging, kissing and talking some more until we both were hoarse. Finally, we ended up at my place. I would have invited him in. I wanted to, but I had enough experience to know that I wanted our first time together to be something really special, and I was willing to wait.