Triple Love Score (13 page)

She swallowed her embarrassment and decided to play along. “I don’t know, Ronan, do you think my mind is dirty?”

“That first time we were together, maybe. You were very bold.”

“I don’t know where that came from. I expected you to laugh at me or leave. I think I was looking for a way out or something.”

“Are you glad I took you up on your offer?”

She didn’t answer right away. She put the car into gear and headed down the winding road that led to the inter-state. As the car accelerated smoothly up the on-ramp and launched itself into the travelling lanes, she placed her right hand on his knee, enjoying the way his dress trouser slipped like silk under her touch. “Yes,” she said. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“May I?” he said, pointing at the radio.

She nodded.

He flipped around through several stations and finally gave up and hit the CD button. Country music guitar chords filled the car with Taylor Swift singing about some exciting heartbreak. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” she said. “I’m a poet. I’m allowed to like romantic things. Even sappy romantic things. They are the foundation of my art form.”

“Actually isn’t the Bible or maybe even Gilgamesh more the foundation of the art form? Do you like church music, too?”

She pointed to the stack of CDs loose under his seat. “Gregorian Chants, count?”

He guffawed and picked up her hand and kissed it. “You are a wonderful woman, Miranda. See I told you I wanted to get to know you. This makes it so much better.”

“So what do you teach? You said you teach. I haven’t seen you on the roster at the department.”

“So you looked for me?”

“No. The poetry department is kind of small. And well, your name would be obvious. Stop being cryptic anyway. You wanted to get to know each other.”

“I teach at the church downtown. In their outreach program for kids.”

“What kind of kids?”

“Kids with nothing better to do than get in trouble.”

“But you made it seem like your work was worthless before. That sounds amazing.”

“It would be.”

“If what?”

“If it worked. Just last week a seventeen-year-old boy had to drop the program and pick up more hours at the grocery store after school. His sixteen-year-old girlfriend is pregnant. He used my class to write her love poems. I thought he was expressing himself. I was beside myself with glee that someone was writing about something other than smoking pot or playing video games. I gave him examples. He actually read them and talked to me about them. And then boom. He knocks a girl up, and it’s all over.”

“It doesn’t have to be over, does it?”

“It sure looks that way. And I feel like if I was only paying attention, I could have said something. Offered the kid a condom, talked him out of it. Something.”

Miranda shifted in her seat and punched at the button on the CD player to skip to the next song. Condom. Again Danielle’s voice echoed through her. She needed to ask before she lost her nerve.

“About condoms. I notice that we haven’t been great about using those, and I need to know if there is anything I should be concerned about.”

Ronan turned the radio off completely. His mouth dropped open a little. “You’re on protection, right? I just assumed when you didn’t say anything that you took the Pill. You do take the Pill, right?”

“Yes, yes, I do. But that’s not everything. And I feel like I have been really irresponsible here. Swept away as it were.”

“Oh, that. I was tested when I started at the school, if that is what you are worried about.”

“Yes. It was.”

“Should I worry?” he asked.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time either. Not since the last time I was tested.”

“A relief then,” he said.

“I feel like an idiot for not thinking about this before-hand. We aren’t fifteen,” Miranda said.

“No, we aren’t. But it sure feels that way, doesn’t it? Miranda, when you touch me I forget all about everything else. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Normally, I am, well, a bit more in control of everything I do.”

“And I am something you want to do?”

“Sure,” she said, “I guess you are.”

They drove for hours, finally stopping at a rest area for food. Miranda patrolled the shelves pulling down snack after snack. Potato chips with bacon seasoning. Twix bars in king size. Snowballs. Green Smoothies, now with more pineapple.

“Hungry?” Ronan asked.

“Something about being with you works up my appetite,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. She nipped at his bottom lip and played her tongue against his. His exhale felt warm against her face, and his breath smelled sweet, like fresh bakery bread. This made her more hungry.

“How much longer until we get there?” he whispered when the kiss finally ended.

“Two more hours. We really should see the Falls in the dark and then find a room. If you want, that is.”

“A room,” he said, pulling her back against him, “would be delightful, Miranda.”

She liked how he said her name, the way his body pressed against hers, and the way her body responded in kind to him. “Delightful, yes. But first the Falls”

“I’ve already fallen,” he said.

To this, she couldn’t reply, or rather, maybe didn’t want to reply. Fallen, she thought, as the cashier rang out her snacks and Ronan’s rather meager Milky Way bar. Was it falling if the other person didn’t fall with you?

“Ready?” she asked.

“Always,” he said.

They couldn’t have planned it better. They arrived at the Falls just as the last stragglers of tourists finished their dinner and began the staggering walk to their cars and hotels; bundled up tightly against the cold, whole families waddled like penguins in all directions away from the Falls. By the time they reached the edge, their own faces stinging with cold, they stood alone before the great gorge illuminated in its Christmas colors. The sound roared around them, and the wind caused their eyes to tear; Miranda stood transfixed at the water rushing over the edge and churning at the bottom. Ronan took up her hand and kissed it, then moved to stand behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

She pressed herself more tightly against him. They stood there until they couldn’t bear the cold. When they finally broke from the railing, a lone jogger stopped to tie his shoe behind them.

“Could you take our picture?” Ronan asked.

“Cold night for it, but sure,” the jogger said, taking Ronan’s phone. He snapped several, turning the phone this way and that. “I wanted to get the right one,” he said. “Has to be a special evening to be out at the Falls just for a look.”

“Right one, indeed,” Ronan said. “Thank you.”

He took the phone back and pocketed it quickly, not sharing the pictures with Miranda. It was so cold that she didn’t protest.

“Let’s find a hotel,” Miranda said. “A warm room would be perfect right about now.”

“I’d be happy with just a bed.”

“A warm bed?”

“Nah, we’ll warm it up.”

When they got inside the hotel, Ronan insisted on signing them in and paying. “I told you, Miranda, my dollars will be worthless soon. I’d rather spend them on you.”

“But you don’t have to,” she said.

“But, I want to. Please let me.”

She nodded and stepped away from the desk to examine the magazines in the lobby. She eavesdropped on Ronan turning on the brogue for the cute girl behind the counter. Then she heard him say, “my wife.” Her ears burned. Wife? What was he talking about? She returned to his side.

“Here she is now.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Yes, husband,” she said, deciding to play along, though the word caught in her throat a little. She wasn’t meant to be an actress.

“It’s so nice that you are celebrating your anniversary here! Let me get you a Falls view room near the top.”

They wound up more than just near the top; the windows of their penthouse room wrapped around the corner of the building. They could see the Falls from every angle without any wind chill at all. After gawking for a few minutes and warming up, Miranda pulled off her coat, hat, and scarf. She started to walk toward the bathroom when Ronan caught her hand.

“Come back,” he said. He scooped her into an embrace and pressed her against the smooth cool glass of the window. With his free hand, he tore at her clothes, quickly removing them and his own.

“But the window,” she said.

“No one can see in, but who cares if they can?” He lifted her up and moved, gently rocking into her. The glass around them fogged. When he shuddered with orgasm, he didn’t stop rocking. Her legs were about to buckle, then her own release came. She collapsed against him. Before she became a puddle on the floor, he picked her up honeymoon style and placed her gently on the bed. They didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. Ronan dozed off, and she lay there staring at the lights in the ceiling.

It wasn’t love. At least not yet. She didn’t want to dismiss that possibility. A good girl shouldn’t do these things without some romantic future, some possible commitment looming. This felt like eating donuts for dinner—a grand idea, all in good fun, until the stomachache hit.

After a few minutes he stirred awake. “I could really grow to love this,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“You and love. Why does it have to be that? You’re leaving. This isn’t some sort of ploy for a green card is it?” She let out a laugh and turned her head to look him in the eyes. Miranda felt his body tense.

“It’s not what you think.”

She heard Danielle’s words in her head. Red flag much. It was her turn to tense. She pulled herself upright.

“What do I think?”

“You think that I am using you. Using you so I can stay here.”

“And you aren’t, right? I didn’t really think that, I was just joking.”

“But, Miranda, I am using you. Not for a green card. I’ve been in the States for three years. In that time, I have made no friends. Published nothing. I earned a degree that is essentially worthless unless I want to keep teaching people how to string words together themselves, so that they can be just as unemployable in the future. No offense. You are a good teacher, suited for it. But I am not, but that isn’t the point here. The point here is that nothing I have done for the last three years has mattered. To me or to anyone else. I only came in the first place to support my sister, and that didn’t even matter—she left me here.”

“But none of this has anything to do with me.”

“But it does, Miranda. You are going to be the one thing I do that matters. The one thing that makes a difference in this place that I have landed in and will soon leave. I want you to remember me.”

Something shifted inside her. She reached out and placed a hand on his chest right over his heart. The thump resonated through her hand joining her own pulse. “Remember you?” she said. “How could I forget? I’ve never done this before.”

“Surely, I wasn’t your first.”

“Not my first like that. But you are the first time I have given into my body instead of my brain.”

“So you’ll remember me, then?”

“Remember you? I don’t think I will ever be able to forget. And if we keep carrying on like this, I won’t want you to go. Did you ever think how unfair this is to do to a person?”

“Unfair, lady? Really what we just did was unfair? I will heartily disagree and say instead that it should be celebrated—with champagne, in fact!” He rose from the bed and put his hands on his hips in a Superman pose.

“Champagne?” she asked. “At this hour?”

While Ronan dialed for room service, Miranda pulled out a piece of notepaper from her purse, scrawling champagne, bubbly, falls. Niagara. She would have to work on it. Find seven-letter words. She felt a bit tipsy already. Maybe falling in love felt like this. She looked up at Ronan, still naked, every part of him firm and taunt. He smiled at her. She smiled back. Wherever the next nineteen days would take her, she would be happy to go. And when they ended, well, she would deal with that then. It didn’t have to be love; you didn’t need love to have a good time.

The next morning, woozy with champagne and late-night love making, they tumbled out of their hotel onto the boardwalk that led to the Falls’ overlook. Miranda spent some time taking pictures from different angles, trying to capture Ronan in a serious pose. Every time she thought she had it, he mugged a big smile or stuck out his tongue. Before they turned to go back to her car, they stood at the edge and just listened to the Falls thundering below. The early afternoon sunlight caught the spray and created a rainbow just across the gorge in front of them.

Neither pointed it out to the other; they just stood there watching it until the light shifted, and the colors vanished from the sky. They remained silent for a little bit after that, holding hands tightly as they walked back to the car.

At the car, he took her keys from her and opened the driver’s door. She thought for a moment he would drive, but instead he stepped aside and motioned for her to get in. As she slid past his open arms, he embraced her, his lips finding hers instantly. They kissed so long and so hard that Miranda thought she would lose her breath.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “Thank you for building a memory with me.”

By midweek, he had just about moved in. She left the apartment only briefly to attend mandatory end of term meetings and teach her Monday and Tuesday class, a class Ronan gladly skipped for once. He kept up his appointments and classes at the tutoring center. But other than that, for the next five days, they sequestered themselves within her apartment, cooking meals with ingredients Ronan ordered online and had delivered. They set the table with matching plates and the two cloth napkins she owned. They lit every candle, even the oddly shaped decorative candles, burning down snowman’s hats and Easter rabbit ears. The apartment glowed from the candles and the space between their own bodies. They talked. And talked. And talked.

“Tell me about your mother,” he said over a plate of shepherd’s pie.

“She got sick when I was ten and died when I was twelve. She loved the law, research, planning things, the beach but not the sand, and pancakes with real maple syrup.” She paused to take another sip of wine. She didn’t really mind talking about her mom, but no one outside her family and the Cramers knew her well enough to ask about her; when most people found out she had died, they dropped the question and looked away. “What about you? What’s your mom like?” she asked.