Chapter 17

“Is this girl talk?” I asked.

“Something like that,” Rebekah replied. “I’ll go first.”

“Of course you will.” Sarah sipped her drink.

“Miguel and I met one afternoon during a photo shoot in Madrid. I was seventeen and it was my first time overseas so I brought my mother along. Miguel was a twenty-five year old Puerto Rican, with long black hair and almond-colored skin. His eyes were the deepest blue I had ever seen, like the ocean.”

“Puerto Rico is so in right now.” Sarah laughed. “I could have sworn the late Eighties version had him from Great Britain.”

“How could Miguel be from Great Britain?” Rebekah asked. “He didn’t speak a word of English.”

“There are people in midtown Manhattan who don’t speak a word of English.” I winked at Sarah.

“May I continue?” Rebekah asked.

Sarah and I nodded.

“Mom didn’t leave my side the entire time. They put me in tiny bikinis so she was a nervous wreck, guarding me like I was the last Jewish virgin in a sea of Gentile sharks. Then Miguel got a hard-on, right through his bathing suit, and Mom freaked out. She started yelling about child pornography and made me go back to the hotel room with her. Something came over me. I mean, I’d turned boys on before, back home, but Miguel was a man. I waited until my dear mother fell asleep and then snuck over to Miguel’s room. He hardly said a word, just took me to bed and had his way with me. It was also the first time I’d seen an uncircumcised penis. It looked funny, but we had a good time. It hurt like hell at first, but after a few hours, I started to get into it.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Sarah crossed herself.

“A few hours?” I sat up and took off my sunglasses. “You were seventeen!”

“What can I tell you? He was a Spanish god.”

“This gets worse every time I hear it,” Sarah said.

“Did the man say anything the entire night?” I asked.

“I’m against conversations in bed. If I wanted to talk, I’d go to a café. Miguel had candles all over the room and Spanish music playing in the background. It was very romantic. Before the sun came up, I snuck back into my room and Mom never even knew I was gone.”

“What about Miguel?” I asked.

“I never saw him again. And what do you know? I didn’t end up with a pregnancy or disease. Just some wonderful memories.”

“What’s happening?” Julia joined us.

Julia looked as though she had been up all night, her hair a mess and dark circles under her eyes.

“You look awful,” Sarah said.

“Thanks.” Julia sat down. “And peace be with you.”

“Liv and I are comparing first times,” Rebekah replied. “I just told her my Miguel story.”

“The Miguel story.” Julia nodded. “Keeps getting better every time you tell it.”

“Pipe down,” Rebekah said, “Liv is going to tell us about her first time.”

“Are you okay?” I asked Julia.

“Somewhat.” She shrugged. “I don’t want this weekend to end.”

“No sentiment yet,” Rebekah said. “We don’t have to go there for another hour. Liv, spill the beans.”

“Okay.” I got comfortable. “Max and I had known each other about a year. Although I ran into him constantly, we didn’t speak to each other that often. We’d notice one another and then move on. It was like we were both too stubborn to make the first move.”

“You were a tease.” Julia took a sip from my drink.

“Playing hard to get.” I put my sunglasses back on and looked away.

“No,” Rebekah corrected. “Playing hard to get lasts an hour, not a year.”

“Or if it’s Rebekah,” Sarah said, “a couple of minutes will do.”

“I’m surprised Max didn’t lose interest.” Rebekah wrinkled her nose. “Keep this one.”

“Within that first year, we slowly got to know each other,” I continued. “Max was intriguing from the start. For one thing, I didn’t intimidate him. There’s something incredibly sexy about unexpected confidence.”

“He looks like Eric Stoltz, yet acts like Mel Gibson.” Julia put on her sunglasses and faced her chair toward the sun.

“And he wasn’t interested in getting me in bed right away. Max was unlike any man I’d ever met. I know this sounds crazy, but I liked seeing him everywhere. I felt safe knowing he was around and looking after me.”

“Interesting.” Rebekah sipped her diet soda. “What issues lie dormant there?”

“It was certainly a surprise, the feelings he brought on.”

“Are you getting soft?” Sarah seemed amused.

“Look, there’s no way to talk about this without feeding you a load of corn.” I shifted in my seat. “What’s sad is that I’m no better at telling him. From the start, something about Max moved me. Maybe it’s his trustworthy eyes; he’d never hurt me and I knew that instantly. We looked at each other and our souls already seemed connected.”

“Yes.” Julia patted her stomach, “I do believe last night’s dinner is about to join us.”

“Okay.” I laughed. ”Max started getting busy at work so we went through a period where we didn’t see each other.”

“What does he do?” Rebekah asked the inevitable.

“Max does a little bit of everything. He paints, fixes cars, plays piano, and can teach anyone tennis. He’s a modern Renaissance man.”

I ignored Sarah’s smirk.

“What does he paint?” Rebekah asked.

“Lots of things. Once he painted me in the nude.”

“Kinky.” Julia giggled.

“Did you two ever do anything sexual with the paintbrushes?” Rebekah asked.

“Rebekah!” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“I bring it up because there’s this trick the French know and it involves—”

“No,” I replied.

“Who gives a fuck about the French?” Julia asked.

“Back to my story.” I clinked my nails on my glass. “I was walking home one night in the late afternoon and Max reached out of nowhere to pull me into an empty doorway. It scared the shit out of me.”

“I’ll bet,” Rebekah whispered. “What did you do?”

“By the time I realized it was Max, he was already kissing me.” I smiled at the memory. “I let him sweep me off my feet, happy just to see him again.”

“So sweet.” Rebekah scooted her chair closer to me. “What happened next?”

“He took me to his place, a studio apartment in Greenwich Village with a couch, canopy bed and a faucet that dripped all night long. I thought it was romantic in a bohemian sort of way.”

“That is love.” Julia arched her eyebrows.

“Max lit a few candles, turned on The Smiths and poured a glass of the best Pinot Grigio I’ve ever tasted. We went at it with little concern for his downstairs neighbors who starting beating on their ceiling for us to quiet down about an hour later. It was amazing.”

“It didn’t hurt?” Rebekah asked.

“Not at all,” I said.

“She was twenty-five,” Julia announced. “Olivia, you probably broke your hymen on a horse or something and by the time poor Max showed up, there was nothing left to break.”

“Good point.” Rebekah nodded.

“Now who’s taking the fun out of it?” I asked. “Max didn’t notice I was a novice because I didn’t act like a typical virgin. I’ve seen movies, you know.”

“Does Max know what you do?” Rebekah asked.

“I never had to come right out and tell him. He’s a smart guy and figured it out on his own.”

“And your career is okay with him?” Sarah asked.

“On some level. I think he believes I’m helping people.”

“Who are you helping?” Sarah asked. “The battered wives?”

“Battered spouses. I’m not opposed to helping husbands.”

“You’re performing one hell of a public service,” Rebekah said. “Although I don’t think it’s possible to help the wives of abusive men.”

“I help them,” Sarah said.

“I’m not so sure.” Rebekah looked away. “You complain that too many of them go back to their husbands. Besides, even if the wife gets away for good, she may be so screwed up that she goes on to another violent mate.”

“That’s happened a few times.” I sighed at the idea of anyone getting help and then going back for more. “Which is why I never take on the same client twice.”

“When people put themselves in dangerous situations, you have to wonder about their state of mind,” Rebekah said.

“You’re blaming the victim.” Julia looked at Rebekah over her sunglasses. “You wouldn’t say a raped woman was asking for it because she wore a short skirt.”

“Is Max it?” Rebekah looked at me and got back to the original topic. “You’re not interested in trying out other men?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Our Olivia is a one-man woman,” Sarah said. “Who knew?”

“Does Max know he’s the one?” Rebekah asked.

I thought about it for a moment.

“Liv herself doesn’t realize how far gone she is.” Sarah chuckled, looking proud of me for a moment.

“Could this be leading somewhere serious?” Rebekah asked.

I shrugged my shoulders again.

“So?” Rebekah sat back in her chair, unsatisfied. “What else?”

I just smiled. Rebekah knew she was getting nothing more out of me.