Ron and Olivia

The nightmare awoke her!

Olivia rolled over in bed, awakened by a dream that she had lost her beautiful diamond ring, her long black hair tangled as her ex Ron kissed her. That swarthiness a contrast to the handsome Nordic solidness of her hubby Taylor. It struck her. That and his eyes. This Swedish man from Minnesota, who met her at SUNY New Paltz upstate.

How bowled over was she to meet those blue eyes, and that fiercely American face, open as those Minnesota fields has been.

He was her second husband.

The first was Ron, a dark eyed prince. He had a tragic comic Jewish face, caught in eternal pantomine. He cheated with the secretary, Delilah, a blonde.

Olivia was short brunette with heavy Boston Brahmin hips and a solid tush. She met the girl, Delilah.

Olivia confronted her at her hubby’s Fifth Ave. law office. The girl looked up at her with a guilty sneer on her 25 year old face. She was elegant, her golden WASP hair knotted, but the makeup however beautiful looked tawdry

Olivia left a message, behaving like a cuckolded but appropriate wife.

Tell Ron I’m picking up our kids from school uptown.

Definitely, Mrs. Stein.

Thank you.

She took the subway to the Upper West Side, furiously angry. Her hands shook. She bought a beer at a local bar, PJ’s. She drank the beer, and then ordered a shot. How many shots could blundgeon the adultery she had glimpsed. Delilah, she thought. The name of a seductress

Fast forward five years. Taylor was the SUNY guy. She took some grad classes. He carried her books.

They returned to his apartment.

I hate grad school, he said.

Why? she asked.

I dunno. Everyone seems so much older.

That’s true.

No offense to you, Olivia. Your gorgeous.

Well, I was married once. And I’m 37 now. I actually love my 30's.

She reached for him as they sat on the sofa. It was sticky, but overall the rest of the room, the bookshelves of Roth and Camus, Woody Allen in the DVD player, and Tarentino and Gaugin posters. All of it clean with Swede meticulousness. He was so fair, so kind.

Her ex boyfriends back in Jersey had been feisty dirty kissers, ethnic Catholic boys with smashing asses in tight pants and guilt. They were less ambitious.

She left Bergen County went to NY, met Ron, fell in love, fell out of life, moved upstate to study, to see trees, to be who she was.

They married 6 months later. She wore a short white lace dress, befitting a John Millais painting. Her long dark hair curled up al over, spring, smoky and exotic. Taylor held her hand. She walked down the aisle in bare feet. The bare feet represented the woman she wanted to be, a free spirit, like Ophelia or Lady of Shallot. Beautiful and luscious as a painting you wanted to enter and never leave.

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