The Sportin' Life (26 page)

Sienna is so beautiful, and her long, elegant hands could cool my feverish brow in an instant. But then I remembered. Once she had tried to make me breakfast at her house. She had burned the toast, admitting that she couldn
’
t cook. The few green plants that resided in her place had to be classified as formerly living. No, Sienna was not exactly the nurse type. She probably couldn
’
t even open a can of soup and heat it properly. The only living pet she
’
d ever had was a goldfish, and that died in the first week because she
’
d neglected to feed it, something she lacked the wit not to reveal.

No, Sienna probably wouldn
’
t be any help to me at all. I was too sick to undress her and certainly too sick to make love to her, even if she undressed herself. She was unable to provide the care I needed, and clearly was more of a threat to my survival than a comfort during my convalescence. Would she even be able to call the emergency room or the mortuary if it came to that? Perhaps it was absurd to be morbid, but facts were facts. A woman like Sienna was useful only during healthy moments. It didn
’
t matter that I hadn
’
t called her in a while, and yes, I could probably call her again, possibly for New Year
’
s Eve, if I survived, but for now calling her would be a blunder.

“
I
’
m sick. I
’
m sick.
”
My nose was raw from wiping and blowing it on toilet paper. There were no tissues in the house. Holly would bring me tissues, and nasal spray even. Holly wouldn
’
t let a goldfish die, or me either. I reached for the phone, something that took all my energy. After a brief rest to regain my strength, I dialed her number again.

“
Hello?
”
she answered brightly. She was in a chipper mood, and I bet that would even improve when she realized that I was calling her because I missed and needed her. This was going to be her chance for happiness.
“
Hello?
”
she asked again, sounding a little annoyed. I wanted to reassure her that I was there, that it was Kevin, the man she loved, but I couldn
’
t say a word and so again we both hung up.

It was impossible. I could call Holly, but I couldn
’
t make myself speak to her. Calling Sherry was out of the question. She and I hadn
’
t parted amicably at all. We had been having a nice affair, and I felt really affectionate toward her. It seemed that she was falling in love with me. Each date was as much fun as the last, and she was loving and sexy in bed. Her job as a sportswear buyer kept her busy and she seemed to have the mix of sensitivity and intelligence that I desire in a woman. Each week we grew closer, and that was why I chose to drift away from Sienna. It seemed like the right thing to do, to focus on the possibility of maybe falling in love with Sherry, and maybe she would be
the
woman for me at last.

We enjoyed ourselves, and I was as attentive and charming as I knew how to be. Sherry responded perfectly, with increasing closeness and developing intimacy. It seemed to be really working, and for the first time in a long time I was optimistic about my future with a woman. Then she started to close in on me. I called her every day at work, but she called me every night. At first it seemed like a pleasure, but then it began to feel as though she were checking up on me. If I were out, then she would keep calling until late, when I returned, wanting a full report on my whereabouts. And although she didn
’
t exactly act as though she thought I had been with another woman, what else was I to conclude? Then she began asking for more time together, asking me on dates mid-week and to meet her for lunches. She began to talk about the future, using the word
we
, and taking me for granted. It was overwhelming. What choice did I have but to make a break for it? One night I decided just to go out to a bar to relax for a while, to have some casual companionship and conversation with new people. And while I was talking to a really beautiful woman, and making contact with her by smiling and touching her hand, Sherry walked in with a colleague to have a drink. What were the odds that she
’
d choose the same bar I was at? She walked right up to us and created a scene too dismal to remember, but the upshot was I called it off and walked out of the place, all without even getting the number of the wonderful woman I
’
d just met.

That
’
s how this whole situation came about. I never go through the holidays alone. I stay with whatever woman I
’
m seeing until mid-January, if it comes to that, because having a woman in my life is important to me and nobody wants to be alone on Christmas or New Year
’
s. If Sherry hadn
’
t been so possessive, she
’
d be here with me right now, and who knows, we might be engaged. I just don
’
t know why things never work out for me. Sometimes it seems like I
’
m jinxed, but then I realize that it
’
s the women around me who just seem to be incapable of having a decent relationship. Here I
’
ve been dating since I was eight, and I can
’
t find a woman to marry.

Desperate for some care, a visiting nurse service began to seem my only option, but before it came to that, miracle of miracles, I got better. One morning on awakening, my head was no longer pounding. My sight had mostly returned, along with my hearing. I was hungry. The flu was over, no thanks to Holly or anyone else. I had survived. Still weak, but on my way to recovery, I pulled on some clothes, padded softly into my kitchen and drank the last of the orange juice. It rejuvenated my spirit so much that I resolved to drive to the nearest market, to stock up on all sorts of food, and that was what I did. I came home, put everything away, including several containers of chicken soup from a deli, which fit nicely into the freezer. No virus was going to catch me unprepared in the future. Then I took a long soak in my Jacuzzi, a short nap, and began to feel more like myself than ever.

Christmas was over, New Year
’
s was approaching, and I
’
d be damned if I was going to spend it all alone and miserable. Should I call Sienna? It seemed like a possibility but not one I particularly favored. I needed a new woman, someone who could open up a can of soup
and
make love. Then I remembered that singles
’
networking group that sent out flyers about all sorts of gala events. There was one on New Year
’
s and I decided to go. The woman of my dreams would probably be there and all my problems would be over. I could meet her, fall in love, and get settled in by the summer. I gave Lou a call to see if he wanted to join me because he had recently dumped someone and was probably feeling low and in need of some social activity. With my New Year
’
s plans in order, I set about unpacking my cartons, setting up my stereo and thinking about a future guaranteed to be brighter than the past. There were some days left in my vacation, and it seemed a good idea to make the most of them, particularly as more than half of the time I took off to get settled into my house had been squandered on the flu.

By the time New Year
’
s arrived, I was feeling almost like my old self, although I still tired rather more quickly than is normal. Lou and I met at Cutters, a nice place, and stood around surveying the crowd. It seems like a wise move at any gathering to check out the room before throwing yourself into socializing. That way you can see if there are any women you want to meet, and what percentage of those gathered might be of interest. Then you can work the room efficiently, making contact with as many potentially desirable partners as possible.

I spotted the usual number of desperate characters, a few lookers, and a number of possibilities. Lou and I chatted amicably while waiting for things to start happening. The point is to notice the girls you want to meet and then to make eye contact so that they
’
ll come over, or if they
’
re really spectacular, I go over to them. Everything was proceeding nicely, when one of the possibilities asked me to dance. I always admire a woman with the courage to do that, so I went off to give her a while, leaving Lou to fend for himself. Dancing is the perfect activity, because you can hold a woman in your arms and see if there
’
s any strong chemistry between you, while still checking out the room all around you. It was funny, but while we were dancing, I spotted this tiny girl with long blonde hair who looked familiar, and I was sure we had slept together, but I couldn
’
t place her. The flu was still doing a job on my memory, because it is highly unlikely that I would fail to recognize anyone I
’
d ever been with. Eventually I gave the slip to the girl in my arms, after taking her number and promising to call, something that was a genuine possibility but not a pressing desire on my part, and went out in search of Lou.

He was standing talking to a beautiful blonde, one of the typical
California
dream girls that are the natural resource of this great state. I went over and got an introduction, planning to do nothing to snake Lou
’
s girl away from him, but it was clear that she preferred me and that he didn
’
t have that much of an interest in her, why I can
’
t imagine, except different strokes and all that. Eventually Lou walked away, leaving me alone to chat with Tawny, who was so sweet and charming that I liked her right away. There
’
s something about these
California
girls that just makes you warm right up to them, and it
’
s not their looks but rather I figure it has to do with the fact that they work out so much that it makes them happy and mellow, and it always feels like a pleasure to be in their company.

We had a long conversation about the various gyms in the area, about sports equipment and the best place to play tennis. It seemed that she was as much a tennis enthusiast as I am, and we made a date to play together in a few days. We laughed and smiled and looked into each other
’
s eyes, and it seemed that a real bond was growing between her and me. I was connected to a woman, and I knew that something was going to come of it. I thought about spending the rest of the evening with her, but decided that it would make more sense to work the rest of the room. I had her number, we had made a date, and the future lay ahead of us invitingly, so we parted warmly, with assurances of our date and that I would call.

I spoke to six other women then. Three were possibilities, and three were of little interest to me, but at least I was in circulation again and felt alive again. Things were returning to normal. It was a pretty positive evening all around and my spirits were in good shape. I grew a bit tired and was almost ready to leave, when I looked across the room and made eye contact with Liana.

At first I couldn
’
t believe it was her because she lived in
New York
, and because it had been so many years since we
’
d been together. Our eyes locked in that compelling way that signifies something intense, usually something that is about to start, like when you meet the woman of your dreams and it feels perfect from the start. At first I toyed with the notion that she was a Liana lookalike, but no, it seemed really to be Liana. Our eyes remained locked for a long while and then we looked away, only to return our glances and connect once again. I walked over to her, feeling the intensity of the pull between us.

“
Excuse me…don
’
t we know each other?
”
I asked, all the while caught in the trap that was her eyes. It was Liana, and she was more beautiful than ever. There was a glow about her that I didn
’
t remember from the past, as though she had come into full bloom in the time we were apart, coming into her own and becoming even more beautiful, if possible.

“
Kevin?
”
she asked, as amazed as I was. I reached out my hand to shake hers in a gesture that was at once suitable and crazy. I felt like crushing her in my arms in a bear hug, the way I always used to.

“
What are you
doing
here?
”
I asked, amazed to see her. I looked at her and felt a warmth I didn
’
t know was possible. Liana. She was more beautiful than I remembered, more beautiful than any woman should be. Her hair was long and natural, her dress subtle and lovely, her skin clear and radiant. She made every other woman in the room look plastic, shellacked and overdone. Liana was real, alive, and completely perfect. You know that if you woke up with her, you wouldn
’
t go into a state of shock to discover that the woman you went to sleep with had turned into someone else overnight as her hair came unglued and her makeup faded.