thethemeis: The London 2012 Olympic Games
Hannah had tickets to the gymnastics with a few girls from work. She had been looking forward to it for weeks. She had been a gymnast at school, you see, training three times a week, and following a strict diet regime of the kind no one in their right mind could ever imagine committing themselves to. She was pretty good, too, back in the day; but never good enough to compete in any competition larger than the regionals. She still had the toned legs it had given her, and the tight stomach, but she hadn't even thought about doing it again for years. Life had got in the way; she had a job now, a fiancé, bills to pay and friends to desperately try not to lose touch with. But she still took an interest in the sport, so she had been delighted when Greg had revealed the tickets to her, a grin on his face and a London 2012 cap on his head. Infinitely generous Greg, the love of her life, surprising her once again.
And with her out of the house, Greg arranged to see Carla. He said he'd pick her up, and they could go for a drive.
*
When she stepped into the car, she seemed flustered and out of breath. Her cheeks glowed nearly as red as her thick, flowing hair, and she fanned herself with her petite hands. She had had an argument with her sister on the telephone about something very trivial, and it had left her irritated and with only twenty minutes to get ready. Having always had strong feelings for Greg, she would have liked more time. Not so that she could doll herself up with intentions to woo him, you understand; just because one would always like to appear at their best in front of an old flame, if only to be safe in the knowledge that one has not let oneself down. Her face, however, had other ideas; and was telling the whole story of her altercation with no words. He asked, Are you okay?
Yeah. It's just been a funny old day. Are you as hot as I am right now?
He smiled, holding eye contact. I don't think so, he replied.
She kissed him on the cheek. So, where are we going?
I'm not sure. Just, for a drive. It's been so long, hasn't it.
It has. It really has.
They drove into the evening, the setting sun beating down the last of its heat onto the bonnet of the car in front of them and commentary from the games playing softly through the speakers. Once it reminded him too much of Hannah, he switched off the radio.
As they drove and exchanged small talk, updates from each other's worlds, pleasantries and inoffensive anecdotes, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to how the night would end. He was sure they both knew it, and its unspoken quality made it all the more exciting, as is done for all forbidden ideas. He pictured them kissing, her breasts pressing against his chest, vibrating with the heavy beat of her heart, rising and falling rapidly with the increased speed of her breath. He imagined his hand sliding under the elastic of her underwear, massaging her, his fingers acting as a controller for her spine, as it arched more and more with each rotation against her soft, warm
What are you thinking? She asked.
Oh, nothing.
He wondered if he had still been paying attention to the road on some cognitive level, while he drifted in and out of his fantasy.
*
When they stopped, they were on a hill in Greenwich, facing a silhouette of London against a pink backdrop of setting summer sun. He was sure he heard her gasp as her big eyes fell upon it.
They sat in silence for long, warm moments.
Finally, he asked, Do you think it's better to settle for less than spend your life alone?
She looked at him. He was staring out at the skyline, as if asking the view to give him an answer. Excuse me? she said.
I said, do you think it's better to settle for someone who you don't think was made for you than to live and die waiting for someone who is, knowing that that person might never appear?
I'm not sure, she said. But I guess it doesn't matter for you anyway; you have Hannah. You two will always be happy.
He chuckled, still staring into middle distance.
Why do you ask?
He leaned on the steering wheel with both arms, placing his chin on his forearm and keeping his eyes on the sky. I suppose this is, like, my deathbed confession.
Deathbed confession?
Yeah, in a way.
Greg, I don't understand what you mean by deathbed. Is something wrong?
I'm getting married next week, Carla. And after that, my life as I know it is over.
And a new one will begin. The one you and Hannah have been planning for years. The one that all your love has built.
Hmm, yeah.
You're getting cold feet?
It's a bit more than that.
Then what is it?
I always imagined that I'd find someone that I connected with on every level, someone that knew me better than anyone else and who I knew inside out. But with Hannah, I don't think I've found that. After all these years, I still feel unfulfilled. Is that wrong?
Well, I wouldn't like to say. But are you sure this isn't just pre-wedding nerves kicking in? You're bound to feel jittery, this is the biggest day of your life coming up.
Yes. I'm sure.
Oh.
They sat in silence for a few seconds.
He began again. It's just, I don't think that a relationship can thrive on just physical attraction...
She giggled. You're the last person I'd expect to hear that from.
He didn't laugh. He continued, Well I don't. I think there has to be a strong foundation of respect, deep love and... I don't know... connection between you. And for all my effort, for all my trying, I just don't see it there. I don't think that we, that Hannah and I, know each other as well and as deeply as we'd like to think we do. I just feel like I might be about to throw my life away, and I only get one.
Erm, shouldn't you be talking to Hannah about this?
No, I can't, it'd destroy her. She's so much more into it than I am, she always has been. To her, we're the perfect couple. Untouchable.
I see.
Haven't you ever thought about this before? About love, and how you think it should be perfect, but you're basing it on ideals you've never seen working in the real world? He was finally making eye contact, and now that he was, Carla found that she wished that he wasn't.
I guess, maybe.
We only get one life. It's what, eighty years maybe of living and then we're just dead forever. You get stuck with the wrong person and you may as well have never lived. I don't want to die regretting a decision I made this year that ruined my whole life afterwards. One mistake that begins a lifetime of regret.
I don't know why you're telling me this.
I'm telling you because I love you.
Oh.
Her face was burning red again. She looked down into her lap.
He lifted her chin with his fingers, and kissed her hard on the mouth, pulling her face to his with a hand on the back of her head. Leaning over the gear stick awkwardly, his free hand fumbled up her leg toward her crotch, hot and clammy and invasive, until she pushed his face away with one forceful hand and slapped the hand trying to force its way up her skirt with the other.
What the fuck are you doing?! she screamed.
I thought...
What the fuck, Greg?!
I thought that we could...
What? Thought that we could what? Run away? Elope, the week before your real wedding?
I thought that we could make love, one last time. One more time before we never can again. That's all.
Her mouth hung open in disgust. What do you mean one last time? We have never fucked, Greg, and we never will. I don't know what sickens me more, that you'd betray Hannah like that or that you've got it into your sick head that we've made love. Where do you get this shit?
I know, I know we haven't, but we've both imagined it so many times. I know we have. We both want it.
No we fucking don't, Greg. That time has passed. It's about time you grew up and got over it. You don't even know what you want. I'll tell you what your problem is: you never want to be happy. It's been like this since we were at school. You drifted from girl to girl, never feeling like they were right for you and always coming back to me to moan about it. All that time, that's when I wanted to be with you. But I moved on. I grew up and realised that sometimes you have to settle for what's damn good instead of throwing that away to wait for something perfect. But because you never learned that, you still don't know damn good even when it slaps you in the face. Hannah is the sweetest woman I've ever met. I can't believe you would do this to her, Greg. I thought you were better than that.
She was picking her bag off the floor and preparing to leave the car, so he grabbed her arm. Where are you going?
I'm getting a cab home. I don't want to be around you anymore. She pulled her arm from his grasp, and opened the car door.
Please don't tell Hannah about this, he cried, over the sound of the door slamming behind her.
Greg sat staring out at the silhouette of the Olympic city through tear-drenched eyes. After a few seconds of stewing in his head, he yelped in frustration and slammed his hands onto the steering wheel four times, cursing under his shaky breath.
When his phone began to ring, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and coughed to clear his throat. By the time he answered the call, he sounded almost normal. Normal enough to pass for a phone conversation.
Hi baby, he said. How were the gymnasts? As good as you? I doubt it. Want me to pick you up from the station?
