A WEEK EARLIER
Olivia Osgood tracked her prey. She might have even been a lioness in a former life.
Olivia knew about Harris’ degree, his job and accomplishments there (from a co-worker), those he’d dated and to whom he ultimately married. She knew about his fight in the bar and the court appearance (she was there in the back row). Recently, she drove through the parking garage to see his car parked at his new job.
For Olivia, it was easy to follow him on the dark internet while holed up in her studio apartment. It took planning to make friends with those who could fill Olivia in on the details, like his company receptionist. Olivia hadn’t really lied about her relationship to him, she just helped the receptionist believe what she wanted to hear, right? And aren’t the court clerks trained to spot questionable IDs, like the one she Photoshopped?
It was almost the anniversary of that Day.
She recalled the time in college nearly 11 years ago when he and Olivia had become a couple at a fall sorority party. He’d been invited by someone else who hadn’t bothered to pay him any attention. But Olivia had zeroed in on him the moment she saw him in the doorway wearing the handsome corduroy sport coat with the leather patches on the elbows, plaid shirt, khaki chinos and black, beat-up Chuck Taylors on his feet. She had tugged on her v-neck sweater to maximize the visible cleavage and rushed up to introduce herself.
Their relationship had been intense that first year. He was the one for whom she saved herself and had no regrets in their moments of passion. He sent her flowers and left love notes at the sorority. She drew hearts on his notebooks. When he caught a nasty flu bug later that spring, she nursed him back to health with cans of soup. She was spending more of her non-class time at his apartment and less and less with friends. The sorority had so many immature girls anyway.
At their first Christmas together, he gave her the “friendship ring” she had picked out; she gave him boxers imprinted with naughty pictures. She insisted on a big birthday celebration with friends, cake, presents, confetti and champagne. He was happy with just a dinner by themselves for his birthday.
Maybe, Olivia thought after their first school year together, he could be the One. She could have easily cajoled him to fulfill the wedding plans she had been arranging in a pink, silk-covered notebook since she was 10.
During the fall term of their second school year together, a sorority sister took Olivia aside on that Day to say that Olivia’s boyfriend had asked the sister to a movie and a drink that night. Would it be okay, the sister asked? It wasn’t like they were going on a date, she said, just a movie they were assigned to watch for a class they were taking together.
Days later, Olivia asked him to come over for just a talk, then accused him of being unfaithful. They argued loudly. She demanded he come clean about what had happened. There was nothing to admit, he’d said; it was just a movie and a beer. He just shrugged and left, her boyfriend no more. To Olivia, he was now damaged goods, tainted by temptation, just like her father had been tempted by that witch next door, later becoming his third wife while Olivia was in high school.
It wasn’t until after she changed schools, changed her major, changed her name and changed her thinking that she had come to reason that he was really the weaker person. If it wasn’t the sorority sister, it could have been a grocery checker, a waitress or maybe a floozy jogger who used her wiles to take him away from Olivia. He wasn’t really good enough for Olivia. And, he wasn’t really good enough for anyone else.
Olivia woke up this morning, making up her mind after she discovered this week that he and his wife, that disgusting little holier-than-thou attorney bitch sorority sister, were separated and she was living downtown. Olivia reasoned he was free to move onto someone else whose life he would damage as well.
Instead of boiling a rabbit, she’d find a way to boil him.