Page 30 of Tell Me What you Think

"Quiet. I went to the movies the day before yesterday. It had been a long time since I'd gone alone, and I don't think I'll do it again."

"Because of going alone, or because you didn't like the movie?" Marina grabs a couple of plastic bins when they reach security and hands one to Olga so she can put her things in it.

"Both. No matter how good the movie is, if I can't talk about it with anyone afterward it loses all its appeal—that's why I don't usually watch movies at home either. I always put on a series instead, because those I can discuss with Silvia."

"I can handle watching one without talking about it, but I don't like going to the theater alone. I figure I might as well watch it at home." The vice president gets in line for the metal detector and looks back at Olga from there. "Plus, it has its advantages—if you need the bathroom, you can hit pause and turn on the lights instead of stumbling out half in the dark, tripping over everyone, and rushing back because you don't want to miss anything."

Olga laughs and falls in behind her.

"That's true. I went once with my first girl—girlfriend." She trips over the word, and Marina turns around sharply, as if she'd been slapped and her face had snapped in a new direction.

She doesn't know why the comment surprises her, but it leaves her breathless for a few seconds.

"Ma'am," the security officer warns, because it's her turn.

Marina walks through the metal detector, flustered and annoyed at herself for reacting like someone unhinged. Olga kissed her, so it shouldn't surprise her that she's a lesbian; in fact, she should have figured that out immediately, but for some reason it had never even crossed her mind, and she's beginning to wonder how many other details she's missed, and whether that's something that only happens with Olga or in other areas of her life too.

She collects her bag and waits at the end of the belt for Olga to grab hers, put her coat back on, and come join her.

"What were you saying?" she asks, glancing sideways at her.

Olga can still feel the color that crept up her neck when she saw the surprise in Marina's eyes. It's not something she's unused to—she's a very feminine woman and people rarely suspect that she adores women—but given the terrifying episode where she'd dared to kiss her, she'd assumed Marina had already reached that conclusion.

"That I went to the movies years ago."

"With your girlfriend," Marina finishes, and the color rushes all the way up to Olga's cheeks at once.

"Yeah, Miriam. We went to see a movie and we hadn't even been there half an hour when she started needing the bathroom. We were sitting right in the middle of the theater, which was packed on top of it. She got up at the exact moment the screen went black for a scene—just a couple of seconds where everything went dark. I heard her yelp, then a woman's yelp, and a wave of murmuring, all within two seconds. When the screen lit back up, she'd tripped over a man's foot, fallen onto the woman next to him, and knocked her drink and popcorn all over the girl sitting beside her. I swear I didn't know whether to get up and help her or run out the other way, because I couldn't stop laughing."

Marina lets out a spontaneous burst of laughter—the first Olga has ever heard from her—and the two of them laugh wholeheartedly at the scene, one at the memory and the other at the mental image.

"That confirms my theory. Better to watch movies at home," Marina declares as she points to a bar with nearly all its tables empty.

"She didn't speak to me for a couple of days," Olga admits, still smiling.

When they board, the flight also has empty seats, including the one in their row. Olga takes the window seat and Marina the aisle, using the middle seat to set their bags on, but the vice president moves over afterward when her assistant switches into work mode and turns on her tablet.

"I put together a summary of today's attendees with their titles and a couple of notes on each one, in case it's useful for the meeting."

"Let me see."

Marina holds out her hand and Olga passes her the tablet, careful not to brush her fingers against hers; even so, the vice president is surprised, because they're genuinely managing to leave behind the awful awkwardness of the last day they spent together in the office.

She starts reading and picks up on Olga's comments beside each attendee's name.

"'Asks a lot, never says anything important,'" the vice president reads, raising an eyebrow as she turns toward Olga with one corner of her mouth lifted. "Where did you get this?" she asks, surprised.

"From the December video calls. I thought it would be interesting to take notes on how each person participated." Olga shrugs. "I don't know if it's useful, but you like to know who you're dealing with."

Marina looks at her for a second—or maybe a few more—because she catches herself studying Olga's eyebrows, which are perfectly shaped.

"Any information is always useful. Thank you."

Olga nods and turns to look out the window, trying to hold back a smile. She can't manage it—her lips stretch wide with pleasure, and she feels a warm flutter slide from her chest down to her stomach.

They arrive at Nauta's offices after lunch. It's a small two-story building on a cobbled, steeply sloped street. Duarte Almeida greets them with a beaming smile and a warmth that Marina finds a little too much.

"Welcome to Lisbon. How was the flight?"