Page 67 of Exquisite Things
“OLIVER! PLEASE, DON’T RUN AWAY AGAIN!”
He doesn’t stop. He races past the Royal Opera House. Covered in scaffolding. It’s being refurbished. Expanded. There’s always money for opera houses. Never for the people on the streets.
“OLIVER, HAVE PITY. I’M WEARING PLATFORM BOOTS!”
I think that might make him laugh. Remind him we can be light with each other. He sprints even faster. Past the Savoy Theatre. Currently playing something calledNot Now, Darling. A ridiculous title. A perfect one too.Not now, Oliver, I want to scream as he crosses the Strand. Rushes toward Waterloo Bridge.
Finally: He stops. Catches his breath.
It’s the dirty old river that stops him. Water means something to him. Land’s end. A new beginning.
I don’t get too close. Can’t risk scaring him off. I remind myself to speak gently. Ask open questions. Give him time. “Oliver. Look at me. Please.” I try to use my helpline voice. It’s no use. I don’t sound gentle. My voice is too urgent. It bursts with need.
He keeps his eyes on the Thames. On the lights of a city that suddenly feels so far away. We’re not in London anymore. It’s Boston again. The past is present. Sixty years erased with one gust of wind.
“How long have you been in London?” I step a little closer to him.
“Long enough.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a pair of beige pants.
“How did you know where I’d be tonight? You must have planned it. The mask. The sunglasses so I wouldn’t see your eyes.”
He doesn’t speak. Takes his sopping shoes off. Pulls his pants up. Buttons them. Puts his shoes back on.
“Were you ever going to reveal yourself?” I take his hands in mine. “Please. Tell me. Were you going to run away without even talking to me?”
“I don’t know.” He finally looks at me. Those eyes. I’ve missed their warmth. The way they always look like they’re melting. Moist and alive. Years of accumulated sadness in their afterglow. The most beautiful things in the world always look like they’re about to break. I speak a Wilde quote that comes to me aloud. “Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why are you quoting Wilde right now?”
“Because you’re exquisite and tragic.” I feel my heart tremble. “Tell me. What was your plan? Were you just going to spy on me and leave?”
“I really don’t know what I was going to do. I was just—unsure.”
“Of me?” I bite my lip.
“Of you, yes.” He nods. “Of us, too.”
“So you thought you’d play some kind of trick on me.”
“It wasn’t a trick. It was—” The downpour stops suddenly. I wish his doubts could disappear as fast as a London rainstorm. “I needed to know you again. Who you are now. To see your life. To see this city. I couldn’t just pick up where we left off without more information.”
“Funny, I have all the information I need. It’s here in my heart.” I place a hand on my chest. “The heart I had tattooed in your honor. But you know that already.”
“Yes. And I know you’re happier than you’ve ever been. And that you have a home. A family of sorts.”
“Not of sorts.” I hear the annoyance in my voice. I soften my tone. “We are a family. Lily is my mother.” I realize I never told him about Lily or our home in the club. “Wait. How do you know about them?”
He shrugs. “I followed you from theYoung Loversstatue.” He reaches into his bag. Pulls out a crushed daffodil. Places it gently in my hair.
“Youfollowedme?” I want to hold him. Want him to kiss me. I also want to rage at him. For lying to me. For making this harder than it had to be. I ponder the lengths of his deception. Putting on fake accents to observe my new life. Making me suffer. But then... I caused him more pain than he could ever cause me.
“I’m sorry.” He means the apology. I know that. He may be unsure of us. But he’s still Oliver. Still the same kind soul who wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. “You did spy on me once, so we’re even, I suppose.”
“When?”
He looks up at me sharply. “When I was reading Plato and crying.”
I suppose I did spy on him. For a few minutes. Not for days. But I don’t fight. Not when I need to win him back. “Do you know why I chose theYoung Loversstatue for our reunion?”
