TITLE:
One
RATING:
MA
SUMMARY:
One is the loneliest number……
"Compliments
of the man at the end of the bar." Olivia
Benson looked up and saw an attractive looking
man smiling in her direction. Taking the
drink, she smiled in acknowledgment and raised
the glass. The gentleman got up and made his
way to her, taking the seat beside her.
"Thank
you for the drink."
Looking
her over, he smiled. "My pleasure. Why is
a pretty lady like you sitting here all
alone?"
Olivia
chuckled and replied, "You don’t really
want me to answer that, do you?"
Feeling
cocky, he replied, "I’m game. Tell
me…" He motioned with his hands.
"Olivia.
Just remember you asked for it." Downing
the drink, she motioned for another and began
her story.
"My
name is Olivia and I am meant to be alone. I
have always been alone and I suspect I will
die alone. I have a demanding job and I live
for my work. My work, is best described as
gruesome. I see six year old girls who have
been raped by their fathers and mother’s who
kill their children. I’ve seen what the
Great White Male can do to a woman’s vagina.
Or the Big Black Man or the Angry Asian. Pick
your politically incorrect stereotype and
I’ve pretty much seen it. Not happy dinner
conversation."
Getting
on a roll, she ordered yet another drink.
"The
men I’ve had in my life? Ha, you men come
and you go. You can’t handle a strong woman
who deals with scum of the Earth. My mother
once told me a man wants three things in a
woman: a wife, a mother and a whore he can
bend over the couch. You don’t get that
here, which is why I’ve pretty much gone to
women."
She
waited to see if he’d make an excuse and
leave, but when he didn’t, she forged ahead.
"Let
me tell you something about dating
women." She caught his amused
_expression. "Listen up, you might learn
a thing or two. See, it’s almost easier
dating men. You guys are fairly uncomplicated.
Dinner, movie, bed, bang, you’re done.
There’s a script. And if I enjoyed sex with
a man, that would make my life easier. But I
digress. See, with a woman, you never know
what bitch is going to open the door. Not that
all women are bitches, but that’s been my
experience. Well, except for one. But we’re
not going there. Anyway, bad relationships are
bad relationships, gay or straight. And I only
do bad relationships, which is why I no longer
do relationships."
She
pushed her empty glass away from her and waved
off the bartender.
"So
you only do what, casual sex?"
"No.
Well, not anymore. I’ve had my share of one
night or weekend stands, but ever since she
came into my life, well, they seem even more
hollow than they used to. The appeal of not
getting emotionally involved is gone. I want
to get involved emotionally. I want to be
somebody’s everything. Well, I want to be
her everything. I want to be the one she turns
to, the one she thinks of when she firsts
wakes up in the morning, her anchor. And more
importantly…I want her to be my
anchor."
He
nodded. "So why isn’t she? Not gay? Not
interested?"
Olivia
snorted. "Oh she’s gay and interested,
but why bother? It’ll just end in hurt and
utter devastation for me and probably
something similar for her. All relationships
end badly. I know, all of mine have."
Olivia
straightened up and looked off in the
distance. Very quietly she said, "Looking
back, I don’t think I’ve ever been touched
by a hand that loves me. Oh I’ve been
touched by hands that claimed to love me, but
I know now they didn’t. I’ve never gotten
flowers from a lover on my birthday or
Valentine’s Day. Never went home with
anybody for Christmas or to meet their family.
Nope. My friends….."
She
laughed and the sound was bitter, even to her
own ears. "Friends, yeah. I don’t
really have friends. I have a lot of good
acquaintances and the guys I work with, but
it’s not the same. They all have lives, such
as they are and I have…former victims I go
to see. And sometimes her if I’m feeling
generous to myself. And most of the time
that’s enough. Or I tell myself it is."
She
began playing with the napkin her drink had
been sitting on.
"So
why don’t you just go for it? She’s
interested and so are you, you’re obviously
crazy about her…." He shrugged.
"Because
it doesn’t work that way. I go for it and it
ends badly, which it will, then I’ve lost
our friendship, such as it is. And why the
Hell would I put my heart on the line
again?" She shook her head, wanting him
to argue with her, wanting him to convince her
love was still possible, even for her.
He
motioned for another drink before continuing.
"Look, you should just go for it. Better
to have loved and all that. Who knows, maybe
this time will be the lucky time?"
"I
don’t believe in fairytales. They don’t
happen for people like me. Once you accept
that, everything else is easier. I’ll always
be a party of one."
Draining
his drink, he got up and threw down a few
bills. "Olivia, just go for it. If
nothing else you’ll know and you won’t
have to sit in a bar wondering, talking to a
complete stranger. Good luck."
"Thanks
for the drink and for listening." He
nodded.
She
sat for another half hour thinking about what
he said, thinking about her life. Popular in
high school, but belonging to no one circle of
friends. Never having anyone over for fear of
upsetting the delicate balance she had to
maintain with her mother. Escaping to college
and a string of one night stands with guys,
that gave way to brief flings with girls after
a pregnancy scare. But never delving into any
deep emotional territory.
Life
after college when she started on the force
and was consumed by nothing more than work.
The occasional encounter with anybody, male or
female, she picked up at a bar. Her two failed
attempts at actual relationships, the last a
number of years ago that still haunted her.
The
day she realized that she no longer allowed
herself to even consider becoming emotionally
invested in someone. And the night she cried
herself to sleep after she accepted that about
herself.
The
day she realized cheap sex with bottle blondes
no longer appealed to her, but neither did
taking a chance on something more with a
certain someone.
And
the day she knew she was done for. The day she
met Alex Cabot. The lonely nights she allowed
herself to think about Alex and what she was
doing, who she might be doing. The night she
found her out with Trevor Langan. And how
she’d been so angry with Alex until she’d
been cornered by the younger woman the next
day and told in no uncertain terms that Trevor
was most definitely not her type. That he had
a penis and his eyes weren’t the right shade
of brown.
How
her heart sang at this new found knowledge and
how she secretly let herself hope just a tiny
bit. Until she remembered her past and quietly
tucked away her feelings.
She
thought about her conversation earlier with
the guy who’d bought her the drink. She
considered what he said. Catching the time on
the clock, she threw out some bills and made
her way to the side door of the bar and
stepped out onto the sidewalk where she knew a
cab would be waiting.It was still early.
If
she turned left, she could get to Cabot’s
apartment and if she turned right, she could
go home to her empty apartment.
Flagging
down a cab, she slid into the back seat. The
cab pulled up to the stop light and the cabbie
asked, "Which way lady? Left or
right?"
She
looked to her left and then to her right.
"One is the loneliest number." He
looked at her in the rearview and frowned.
Shaking her head, she pointed to the right and
watched as the way to Alex’s apartment faded
in the distance.
Telling
herself it was for the best, she said to no
one in particular, "Happy endings don’t
occur in real life. Only the movies."
::