Takes Its Toll

by Kit Graves

  Takes Its Toll

  "The mind is its own place, and in it self

  Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n.

  What matter where, if I be still the same…”

  - John Milton, Paradise Lost

  “You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

  ― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 1

  "Six dollars is your change, Sir, have a nice d- okay, bye."

  Olivia shook her head and stuck her hand out of the window for the next car's toll. Wishing people a nice day was part of her job, but most people just treated her like a vending machine. Even though hundreds of people came by her tollbooth, it was awfully lonely when most of them sped right by her.

  "You're good to go, ma'am, enjoy your day," she told the next customer, screwing a smile onto her face. The woman driving rolled her eyes and hit the gas.

  Olivia knew she barely registered to most of the commuters who passed her booth each day. She was just the annoying barrier to the bridge into town, an inconvenient human hired because the city was too small and cheap to install automation. Most days she didn't mind - the bridge didn't get awfully busy apart from rush hour, and she'd only taken the job because it was the perfect way to make money while doing her schoolwork. At 24, she felt a little old to still be working on her Bachelor's, but college was expensive and she'd been working her way through a few classes per semester. So far she'd worked at an ice cream shop, a mall day care, and an office that had her entering data into spreadsheets all day. They were the kinds of jobs that popped up every fall when high school students dropped their summer jobs, and she'd managed to pour almost every dollar into her education. With one semester left, she hoped this was her last dead-end gig.

  Olivia had been on her own since she was 16, when her mother and brother Travis had died suddenly in a car accident. Her dad hadn't been able to handle it, retreating into drink and women that Olivia would have hated even if they weren't attempting to replace her mother far too soon. It was too hard watching such a good man crumble while trying to finish high school, so after six months of trying to mourn amidst barflies and beer bottles, she'd struck out on her own.

  Now she rented a room in an apartment with three other girls, all of them attempting to keep their costs down as they finished school. This made Olivia the oldest except for one grad student, Laurel, but the other girls had grants and family support that set her apart even with them.

  Work and class had been her life for years now, and while her roommates were sweet girls, Olivia was often too busy or tired to accept their invitations. Only Laurel would occasionally insist they split a bottle of $6 wine and watch a movie together. This suited Olivia far more than paying $6 for a cocktail when her roommates were going out, and especially more than accepting free drinks from men. Her roommates always seemed to have a nice time, but the one or two times Olivia had tried to join them, the expectations of loud, drunk men had only reminded her of her father.

  She had tried dating at first, freshly on her own and desperate for some human affection. She'd let her first roommate set her up with someone, and spent two disastrous years trying to escape him afterward.

  Her ex-boyfriend, Tomer, had tried to control her, and she'd been so desperate for someone to take an interest in her life she'd very nearly rearranged it all for him. When he mocked her jobs she put up with it, when he picked out her clothes she put them on, and when he called her pathetic she privately agreed. He even hit her once, and she hadn't left, accepting his excuses. Only when he'd told her she'd never finish school and may as well drop out to start catering to him full time had she had the clarity to escape. School had been the one thing her mom had always insisted on, and it was Olivia's mission to complete it. Not even Tomer would stand in her way.

  The four years since he'd been gone from her life were peaceful. She'd finally accepted being alone, and was mostly happy. Ironically her biggest worry these days was how close she actually was now to completing her degree. After years of single-minded dedication, Olivia was afraid of a wide open future.

  Chapter 2

  Olivia shut her eyes and fought the urge to scream in frustration. She had always been one to mind her manners, first because of her upbringing and then out of a desire not to draw any negative attention toward herself. It was only habit that kept her from acting unladylike now. Today was just one of those days where absolutely nothing had gone right.

  First, Laurel had stumbled in from a party at 3AM, turning on the light in the bathroom between their rooms and waking Olivia by accident. Olivia hadn't slept well since the day her family had been all but wiped out, her nightmares less frequent now but her rest still uneasy.

  She'd found it impossible to sleep after the interruption, and when she'd given up and scrolled through her phone, she'd clicked on one too many puppy videos and found herself near tears over clips of adoptable senior dogs. Then the coffee machine at school was broken in the morning, and a knot of anxiety had formed in her stomach from splurging on a latte down the street. Or maybe she was just lactose intolerant now. It was that kind of day.

  So at work, when she'd screwed on her brightest smile and greeted her first customer with as much warmth and civility as she could only to be ignored again, Olivia just gave up.

  She could feel her eyes burn as though on the verge of tears. Olivia hated crying in public, because her copper hair brought out the redness in her eyes, making it impossible to hide. Luckily, the road was pretty quiet this evening, and she had a few minutes to put herself together.

  Olivia glanced down the road at its empty lanes, then drew her notebook open. She was having trouble with her latest essay. It was on epic poems, which were usually a favorite topic of hers, but the wars of the Homeric poems just didn't appeal to her.

  She wasn't quite sure what she'd do with her English Lit degree once she acquired it, but she'd always found peace in deep readings and great enjoyment in literary conversation. She hated not putting her all into an assignment, which was why she was so frustrated with this one.

  A distant roaring, growing closer, alerted her to an approaching customer. Olivia sighed and steeled herself, reaching a hand out of the small window without fully turning to face the newcomer. She couldn't face another rude interaction, and so she kept her eyes on her copy of The Iliad, already willing the exchange to be over.

  The rip and rev beside her alerted Olivia dimly to the fact that it was a motorcycle, and her eyes flicked briefly to the window to ensure its rider could re
ach her hand.

  "Good morning, miss," the man on the motorcycle said. Instantly she was horrified at herself, her cheeks burning at being the rude one this time. The horror must have shown in her expression for an instant, because just as she registered the man's face, he shifted his body weight and rolled past, the bike picking up speed immediately as he disappeared over the bridge behind her.

  In his wake, Olivia stood stock still for a moment, registering what happened.

  Scars. His face - it had been half covered in scars, silver ribbons wrapping over even his eye and into his hairline. And oh no, she'd looked at him totally aghast. No wonder he hadn't waited for her answer.

  Chagrined, she finally noticed the twenty in her hand. He'd left without waiting for his change. Olivia groaned aloud this time, pushing her books up on the table and counting out the right change. She tucked the bills under the cash tray, vowing to return them the next time he came through. It was the least she could do - and she'd just have to apologize. She'd acted horribly!

  Olivia paused and bit her lip, looking over her shoulder even though he was long gone by now. What had he even looked like, beside the scars? Would she get the chance to recognize him if he came through again?

  She remembered a voice like grated honeycomb, and vaguely recalled him being large. His shoulders had been wider than her window, and his body leaning up toward her had blocked out the surrounding concrete dividers. She'd mostly noticed the scars, admittedly, but now that she thought about it she remembered a steely set of grey eyes.

  When those eyes came back her way, she'd be ready.

  Chapter 3

  The next day Olivia worked the early shift, so she wasn't expecting to have a chance to apologize yet. It took her by surprise when the motorcycle was hidden behind a pickup truck first thing in the morning.

  When the broad man was revealed, she took a quick look at him. He was scarred as ever, but she was right, his eyes were a foggy grey. His build made her think of the rugby players Laurel obsessed about, his muscular legs overlarge as they braced him against the ground.

  Had she been staring? She hoped not. "Hello!" she said instead, determined to make up for her past error. "I hope you're having a good morning. I have your change from yesterday, sir."

  "I'm no sir," he rumbled, the hand he cupped underneath hers for the proffered bills huge in comparison.

  Olivia couldn't help it: she laughed. "Me either."

  The man seemed too surprised at her joke to laugh with her. His eyebrows were raised, two thickly-furred arcs, but he remained silent. Understandable, considering how yesterday she'd given him cause to assume she found him terrifying. Knowing they only had a few more seconds together, Olivia racked her brains as she printed a receipt.

  "Here you are... Mr. Not-A-Sir," she chirped, smiling into his face, determined not to focus on his scars. His eyes swept hers, and she was surprised at how deeply his gaze penetrated hers for a fraction of an instant.

  After a moment, he smiled, and Olivia blinked in surprise. His smile was like the first beam of light after a rainstorm, subtle but blinding.

  "I'm sorry about-" she started suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at the growing line of cars behind him.

  "Don't worry about it," he huffed, a shift in body weight indicating that he was ready to ride on. Olivia wished they had more time, time to explain herself, but she gave him her brightest smile anyway - for the road.

  This time when he rode away, she was left in a much better mood. More hopeful. Maybe she hadn't completely redeemed herself, but now she didn't have to feel so bad.

  Olivia would have expected that to be it, the end of her thoughts about him. She certainly had enough brief encounters with strangers that it shouldn't have been worth dwelling on. She felt a little guilty still, but a sense of happiness overwhelmed the lingering bad. He'd smiled, and it had felt like real forgiveness. For some reason she found herself wondering what the guy's story was, how he got his scars, what brought him to the bridge out of nowhere and at unpredictable times.

  After a few hours of dispensing change while her mind wandered, she realized that her mind was still on the mystery man. On, underneath... Olivia caught the reflection of her blush in the window. She hadn't had much of a sex life over the years, much less a satisfying one. She'd always vaguely thought she'd find the right husband and enjoy a satisfying bedroom life with him, and hadn't dwelled on it much further. It was surprising to find herself fantasizing about those enormous hands, what his bristly face would feel like against her lips. Maybe it didn't come with learning to trust a man again, or love, but she was actually kind of happy to know her natural instincts weren't completely gone. Maybe they'd just been hibernating while she healed.

  Thanks, sexy stranger, Olivia thought to herself with a giggle. Sure, the target of her newfound attraction was unexpected, and she knew nothing would come of a silly daydream, but the feeling still made her smile.

  Maybe she wasn't broken after Tomer after all.

  It was the ringing of her phone that snapped her out of her daydreams. Her phone showed a selfie with Laurel, Laur's skin on display as always. Olivia rolled her eyes at the pouty-faced photo and picked up. "Hey, what's up?"

  "Hey girl, your brother's here!"

  My brother? Olivia's mood dropped immediately, her stomach straining. She'd had two brothers. Now she had one. Even the word cut her deeply, slicing down to the pit that she'd carried inside since the accident. "What?" she managed to whisper, impossible visions of Travis’ handsome young face filling her mind.

  "Oh hon, I'm so sorry," Laurel replied instantly, sounding stricken. All the humor had bled away from her normally bright and lilting voice. "I mean George. I'm so sorry, Olivia."

  "George's at the apartment?" Olivia's brain took a second to catch her up, so far had she fallen mentally. “Really”

  "Really." Olivia could sense Laurel smiling a little. "Anyway, he's here and he's cute. Can I have him?"

  "No and ew. Can you tell him to meet me at the Starlite?"

  "Sure thing, babe. Sorry again."

  "It's fine." Olivia forced herself to sound reassuring. "I'll be off in a half hour, I'll see him there."

  Weird day, Olivia thought to herself. But she was excited to see George. And a burger at the Starlite would be the cherry on top of some time with her other brother.

  Chapter 4

  The Starlite Diner was Brooksville County's oldest operating business, and it showed. Perched on the industrial waterfront under the bridge Olivia worked on, it glowed at night with magical neon hues, and by day looked like it should have been boarded up years ago. Now, on the cusp of dark, it was beginning its nightly transformation into something beautiful, the bridge turning into a dark silhouette against the dimming sky.

  Olivia took a deep breath of the fresh air, which held tinges of oil and rotting algae, but nevertheless helped clear her head to meet George.

  George had always been quiet, and he’d been in school as long as she had, although he was working on a second or third degree at this point. He’d been long gone by the time everything had happened, and it had driven an invisible wedge between them when she’d been left to deal with the immediate fallout. But she was glad to have him now, glad he'd been safe in college during the accident and its aftermath, and most of all glad that he'd found his place. They were the only siblings each other had now, and their relationship had become much more special as each of them grew into adulthood.

  Walking into the diner, George was easy to spot. He had a huge peacoat thrown over the back of a booth, and underneath it, he wore a black Henley and black jeans.

  "Heard of color?" she joked. Olivia, as usual, was dressed in a lighter palette that complemented her peaches-and-cream coloring. She was dressed for work in a white corded sweater, light wash jeans, and brown suede boots that she'd found on sale last year. George smiled, standing up to wrap her in a hug immediately.

  Olivia buried her face in George's wild hair. Her emo
tions were just too close to the surface. She didn't see George nearly enough to be used to dealing with all the feelings that sprang up when he came to town. His work took him far away, but she suspected that a part of what appealed to him about the north was its distance from those same feelings.

  They sat down eventually, grasping each other's hands across the slightly sticky Formica tabletop. Now Olivia couldn't stop smiling. "You look so grown up!"

  "Old, you mean? You look great though. You look healthy, does that mean you've been taking care of yourself and doing okay? How's school?"

  Olivia laughed. "What are you, Mom?"

  George twisted his mouth but smiled back. He and Viola hadn't had the strongest relationship, but Olivia did suspect he adopted his worrying side from her anyway.

  They caught up over chili cheese burgers, gloppy, messy things that nearly ruined Olivia's sweater but tasted incredible. George kept stealing her shoestring fries, telling her about the masters program he was finishing on the other side of the country.

  "It sounds kinda hectic, honestly, don't you hate that?" Olivia rolled her eyes when he reached for her fries again, but let him. It was fun getting to let go of her usual poise. She rarely got a chance to slip out of that mode, between working in customer service, wringing every dollar out of her education, and maintaining a pleasant roommate situation. It was the way she had managed to carry herself so far alone, but she missed the ability to be goofy that had come with being around siblings.

  George seemed thoughtful at her question. "It can feel that way sometimes," he finally answered. "But I’m too busy to miss the whole women aspect of it right now."

  "So no women? Really?" Olivia had never really known George to more than pine over girls, although he'd been oblivious his whole life to those pining over him. BUt she’d hoped that by now he would have found someone who could force him out of his shell a little. “Come on, what happened to my brave big brother?”

  "Speaking of being brave," he said gently, instead. Olivia groaned. Eventually it always came back to the things they didn't really want to talk about. George was always so stoic about facing them. She admired it, but it could definitely be annoying.