Acts of Service by Lillian Fishman

Author:Lillian Fishman [Fishman, Lillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

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Later that week I met Nathan and Olivia for dinner out in Clinton Hill. The invitation surprised me. I hadn’t seen Olivia since our midwinter meetings in Nathan’s apartment uptown.

Nathan chose a small Italian restaurant I had been to once before, with Fatima. It was unobtrusively tucked inside an old storefront. I arrived earlier than I intended, but I didn’t want to show that I was eager or be found awkwardly waiting at a bar. Instead I smoked and walked four times around the block.

When we sat down Olivia began to do her cursory check around the restaurant: Who was there? Was there anyone they knew?

Relax, Nathan said. We’re in Brooklyn.

And you’re just having dinner with a friend, I said. Right?

Of course, Nathan said.

It was hard for me to recall the rush of determination I had felt toward Olivia when we first met the previous December. I had spent too much time feeling, in turns, rejected or used by her, when I was not sunk in anxiety about the defensibility of my own conduct. But she continued to fascinate me. I felt toward her now the way one might toward a celebrity—intensely curious, distant, and admiring, yet without any hope of reciprocal interest.

Olivia, I’m so glad to see you, I said. How have you been? Why haven’t I seen you?

Oh…She blushed. I don’t know. I’ve been very busy.

Busy?

Yes.

Have you been painting?

Olivia looked down at her empty plate. I suspected that she had warmed to the idea of me after a period of unwillingness, or perhaps been talked into another attempt. Wariness hung over my body, which had become, in the preceding months with Nathan, accustomed to languor.

After we ordered we asked each other the requisite questions about work.

Nathan showed me some pictures of your paintings, I said to Olivia. Some of the more recent ones, I think? They’re wonderful, Olivia.

Nathan and Olivia exchanged glances in the natural hush that fell while the first dishes arrived. Olivia began to disassemble a cauliflower tart with her fork.

This is really good, she said to Nathan. You’ll like it.

Really, I said to Olivia. I’m happy I got to see a little of it.

Do you want some of this? Olivia said to Nathan.

Olivia, I said. I’m only trying to compliment you.

Olivia ignored me. I watched while the two of them played a game, Olivia insisting on serving him from her fork, almost maternally, and Nathan in turn protesting, acquiescing, smiling. I was embarrassed for her and jealous at the same time. Finally Nathan turned to me with a little amused look, as though to thank me for indulging her.

They’re beautiful, I said again to Olivia.

Olivia was still toying with Nathan’s plate. Oh, just stop it, she said finally.

Nathan, I said, help me out here. Anytime I want to talk to Olivia about her work, it’s like I don’t exist. Will you help me? Can you get her to talk to me a little?

Nathan, Olivia said, are you too crowded under there? Should we

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