Free Come Alive by Jessica Hawkins

He was mild
– like our relationship. He didn’t dig, or probe, or question why things
were the way they were because for him, it was enough.
    David
was not only attentive, but intuitive. Was he that way
with all of his women? Though nothing had happened, I felt as though I’d
misbehaved over the weekend. Everything about David felt intimate – the
way he looked at me, his words, his touch. It wasn’t
realistic to expect that my feelings would have changed in only three months. But
what unsettled me was that they were as strong as ever.
    Seeing
David was a full-body experience. I felt heavy and light at the same time. He gives me butterflies, but they aren’t
butterflies. They’re bigger and darker and scarier, like crows. They’re
dangerous. And did Bill ever give me butterflies?
    My
relationship with Bill had started slow. When we would meet downstairs in the
middle of the workday, I would feel happy, anticipatory. I liked his company as
well as our conversations. Butterflies .
. . . Were they there? Did I have them? Does it matter
if I did? Since when do butterflies determine anything?
    I
wondered if David gave Dani butterflies or worse . .
. did she excite him ? Had he been hoping to see her in the kitchen rather than me?
My mind clouded. Did he, would he, touch her like he had touched me? I pictured
how he would undress her, stroke her skin, run his hands through her long hair.
My teeth gritted as I saw her in his apartment, sitting on the couch where I
had. In his bedroom as I had been. Wrapped up in his
sheets. Tangled in his – Oh, God.
It’s too much. I shuddered and shrank in my seat.
    Maybe
one day they would have their own wedding and their own honeymoon in Paris.
Someone else would give a toast about finding ‘the one,’ and it wouldn’t
include me. David was my mistake and if they ended up together, I would be his.
I would be the blemish. The wife’s friend. The
cheater.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 8
     
     
    TAP, TAP,
TAP. I stared
down at the red pen jittering between my fingers and then at the clock: 11:20 a.m. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I stilled
and looked blankly at the list of article topics in front of me. I was across
the office to grab my jacket in one motion.
    “Early lunch?” Jenny asked as I whizzed by her
desk.
    “Yep.”
    I focused on the clicking of my heels against
the pavement as I walked. Summer was ending, but it was warm and the sky was a clear
blue. With each step toward my destination, I was a little lighter. Since the
car ride home from Winnetka the day before, my mind had been in overdrive, and
I needed . . . something. I didn’t know what exactly, or even what I wanted,
but I thought I knew where to find it.
    A fifteen-minute walk; a lifetime hanging in the
balance. A choice. I stopped in front of the sleek, modern
doors of Pierson/Greer. Just inside was the one who haunted my thoughts, the
one I couldn’t forget. I reached out for the gilded handle and paused. After a
moment, my hand fell to my side again. I backed away from the entrance and
pinched the bridge of my nose. Don’t do
this, Olivia. Let it lie. Let it be. Don’t do this . . . . I wiped beads of sweat from my
forehead and paced along the sidewalk. What did I want from David? What answers
could he provide? I needed to know why this was happening. Why I was beginning
to feel more and more like I was being torn in half.
    I
stopped my tread finally and sighed up at the tall building. With sagging
shoulders, I turned around and idled back the way I’d come.
    At
the first convenience store, I ducked inside. I was craving comfort food in a
way I hadn’t been lately. I headed straight for the freezer, promising myself
that things would get easier. I slid open the door and selected an ice cream
sandwich, knowing I just had to stay strong. I walked to the cashier,
determined not to break down in the middle of a convenience store. With one
hand cradling my purchase, I used the other to fish out a couple