I busy myself with the task at hand, glad that it allows us not to have to talk. For the next forty minutes, Olive does her best to sit still, which seems like torture because she’s so excited. Finally, I stand back and survey the results. Not bad.
The waterfall braid cascades down the sides of her head, just like the girl in the video. I hold up a hand mirror for her and she bites her lip, smiling as she sees herself. We smile at each other and Olive gives me another big hug. “Thank you, Abby.”
“You’re most welcome. This was fun.”
Liam takes out his phone. “Let me get a picture of you.”
“Abby, too, okay?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my waist.
I smile past the phone and look directly at him, scanning for any clues to his feelings, but he is an enigma. Or I’m too blind to see the truth. “Can I drive Olive to school? Just in case her hair gets messed up on the way. I can do some last-minute touch-ups.”
“Sure,” he says. “Listen, I have to head back to Virgil and Fiona’s again today. When I pulled up the carpet in the basement, I discovered the subfloor is rotten. I’ll need the day to get it torn out, but I promise I’ll be by to finish your place tomorrow.”
Shrugging, I say, “Whenever.”
* * *
I grin at Olive in the rear-view mirror as I wind my way through the village to the school. She is beaming, and I see her smoothing her hand over her hair each time I look back. It glistens in the early morning light. Shiny and healthy like her.
I find a spot across the road to park, and we get out. Olive slips her arms through the straps of her backpack, then takes my hand as we cross the road. I give her fingers a little squeeze of excitement as we walk, and the cold air cannot touch me through my cloak of happiness. When we reach the front sidewalk of the school, she stops walking and turns to look up at me.
“Thank you so much, Abby.” She lets go of my hand and grins again.
I lift my hands to the top of her head and let them glide down the length of her hair. “You’re welcome, sweet girl. It was my pleasure.” I give her a kiss on top of her head, and she is gone, racing to the door as the bell sounds. I stand watching, and my heart twists as I see her go in.
* * *
All day, I find myself restless and I can’t seem to sit at my desk for more than a few minutes without getting up to do something. Throw in that load of whites or dust the shelves in my office, which show a thin layer of white in the morning sun—anything but sit still and write. I can’t seem to return to Beatrice and her orphans. Instead, I’ve left her sitting in a tub full of warm water turning into a prune while I vacuum the entire house.
The house feels empty today with both Liam and Olive gone. Unable to face the quiet any longer, I go for a long walk along the beach, keeping my eye out for Isaac’s ring, just in case it’s somehow washed up onto the shore. After about twenty minutes, something shiny catches my eye. I hurry over and lean down. It’s my necklace. Laughing with excitement, I dig furiously around it with both hands, my pulse quickening as the chain continues on, deeper down. But then, it ends. No ring. Just a broken chain. Pocketing it, I continue digging, then stand and kick at the sand anywhere nearby, just in case. I’m determined to find it. It’s got to be here somewhere, if the chain is.
But it isn’t. After what feels like hours, I give up and go home, but I don’t give up hope because if I found the chain, there’s always a chance I’ll find the ring too.
After a long, hot shower, I sit back at my desk, checking the clock every few minutes and wondering if Olive will call to let me know how the day went. Finally, around two-thirty, I decide to pick up a few groceries. That way I can happen to be walking past the schoolhouse at three o’clock.
The next half hour is a steady climb in anticipation for me, as I peruse the aisles, keeping an eye on the time. It turns out, several moms use this as their chance to get groceries, and when I get to the checkout, I end up in a long line-up of women who know each other. They chat loudly, not seeming the least bit concerned about the time, while I tap my foot impatiently.
I walk out of the store just as the bell rings and see Liam pulling up in his truck. He gets out and gives me a confused expression until I hold up the bag. When I catch up with him, he’s wearing a knowing smile. “Needed a few things at the store, eh?”
“I ran out of bananas.”
“Want to come see how Olive’s day went? You know, since you’re here and all?”
“Oh, sure.” I shrug, even though he’s clearly on to me. “Might as well.”
It only takes another minute for children to come pouring out the front of the school, like milk from an upturned jug. They chat and laugh with each other as my eyes wildly scan the crowd for Olive.
Finally, I see her. Her hair is no longer in the waterfall braid and my heart drops. I immediately assume that I’ve done such a poor job that it somehow came out. Large kinks jut out from the top of her head, and chunks of her hair are no longer straight but zigzagged. The only word I can think of to describe it is odd. She is looking at the ground, shoulders slumped.
“Oh dear,” Liam murmurs. “Something’s happened.”
I say nothing, torn up by the sight of her. Her feet drag, and, as she walks in our direction, she gets bumped and jostled by the children in their hurry to get home and play video games. She takes no notice of them.
Liam and I wind our way through the crowd to her, and she stops when she sees his shoes in front of her. When she looks up, her face is stained with tears, her eyes are puffy behind her glasses. Liam puts his hands on her shoulders and crouches down to her. “What happened, my love?”
“None of the other girls wanted to look like me.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Mercedes Tanner told the other girls to wear headbands and big curls in their hair. She made them promise not to tell me.”
“Oh love, that’s awful. I’m sorry.” Liam pulls her in for a big hug, and I see her frail body shaking.
Tears fill my eyes. This is the trick of the mean girl. They exist everywhere, at every age and stage in life, although I have no idea what their purpose is.
“They all made fun of me and said they were never going to wear waterfall braids in the first place and that they’re for babies like me.” Her voice hitches and she tries to catch her breath, but it’s no use because she’s sobbing so hard. “Mercedes said that if I had a mom, I wouldn’t look so stupid all the time. I tried to take my hair out and wet it so my curls would come back, but it didn’t work, so my pictures are all wrecked now.”
“Oh, sweetheart, we can get retakes. It’ll be okay,” Liam says.
She shakes her head. “They don’t do a retake of the class picture. Everyone is going to have a copy of me looking like a crazy bag lady.” She sobs again, then says, “That’s what Seth said I look like.”
Anger is bubbling in my blood. How dare anyone make this perfect child feel any kind of pain? Not on my watch. I look around and spot a group of girls in headbands and curls. They are laughing together, surrounded by their mothers, who are very busy chatting about something most certainly useless, like their favorite brands of retinol when they should be teaching their awful girls to be kind.
I march over, not at all sure what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say it all right. I reach the group and stop. “Mercedes? Is one of you girls named Mercedes?”
The shortest one looks up at me sweetly and raises her hand. “I am.” The look on her face says she thinks she’s going to get a prize. I’ll give her a fucking prize, all right.
“On what planet is it okay to make fun of someone because she doesn’t have a mother? What if your mother died? Would that be your fault?”
A well-dressed, painfully thin woman gasps loudly. “Don’t you talk to my daughter that way!”
I spin on her. “Oh, so Mercedes is your little cherub, is she? Are you aware that she told Olive that all the girls were wearing waterfall braids, but t
hen she told all the girls to wear headbands and to promise not to tell her?”
The woman shrugs. “Mercedes would never do that. I’m sure she just forgot to tell Olive.”
Another girl speaks up. “No, she made us promise not to tell her because she didn’t want her to look like one of us.”
I nod emphatically. The truth is out. “Thank you, Honest Girl. There is some hope for humanity after all.”
I turn to the thin mom and fold my arms across my chest as I wait for her to be horrified to discover her daughter is a mean girl.
She gives her daughter a tilted head cutesy serious look. “Mercedes, that wasn’t nice.”
“Sorry, Mommy.”
“Okay, then.” She gives me a single nod, as though that will put the matter to rest. But it won’t.
“Is that it? ‘Okay, then?’ You’re not even going to make her apologize to Olive?” I’m leaning in toward her in a way that is probably very threatening. At least I hope it is.
“Okay, who are you even?” she asks, looking disgusted.
“I’m her G.D. babysitter,” I say as though it’s some super intimidating revelation that will have her shaking in her UGGs.
She snorts, then says, “Okay, well, it’s really none of your business, so just back off.”
Glaring at her for a second, I say, “Okay, sure. I’ll back off. Because now I can see there’s no point in bothering. I can see where Mercedes gets her lovely personality from. Congratulations on raising a horrible, hateful, shallow, cruel person. You’ll have a lot in common by the time she’s grown!” I’m so filled with rage that I shake my bag of bananas at her.
I feel an arm reach around from behind me and cover my upper chest, near my collarbone. It’s Liam, and he’s gently guiding me away from the fight. “Let’s just go. They’re not worth it.”
“Olive’s worth it.” I bark at him. “Are you going to let these people get away with this?”
Liam looks at me. He’s far too calm for my liking. He sighs, then looks at Mercedes. “I’m surprised at you, Mercedes. You used to be Olive’s friend. You used to come to our place all the time to play. But now you seem to have decided that she doesn’t fit in, and I can’t for the life of me understand why. Especially when all she’s wanted is to be your friend.”
His tone is kind, which I cannot fathom right now. How could he be kind to this little shit? Hmm, the little shit seems to look genuinely upset now. Her bottom lip is actually quivering. Maybe his way isn’t completely useless after all.
He looks at the moms, who are having trouble making eye contact with him at the moment. “Ladies.”
With that, he turns, and I follow him. I see Olive has been right behind us this whole time, her eyes are wide with shock, and she looks like she isn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. Liam picks her up and carries her, and I follow a few steps behind. I turn back to the women and glare at both Mercedes and her awful mother for good measure.
I lag a little as we cross the road, trying to calm down. The calmer I become, the more I am filled with regret. I really had no business going off like that, and now, I am horribly worried that I may have just inadvertently made Olive’s life much harder.
Liam opens the door and flips the bench seat forward so she can climb in the back. Before she sits down, I hear him say, “They’re just jealous because you’re so beautiful and smart. You know that, don’t you?”
She shakes her head but gives him a small smile. “No, I’m not. I’m weird.”
Liam’s eyes narrow. “You’re not weird. Who told you you’re weird?”
“All the kids. I’m not in dance or soccer or anything. I only like to draw and look for fairies and mermaids. That’s why they don’t want to look like me.”
For the first time, I see him put on a very firm look when he addresses his daughter. He even wags his finger at her. “You listen to me. You’re not weird. You’re kind and thoughtful and smart, and you’ve got more imagination in your little finger than the rest of them have combined. Just because a few nincompoops decided to be mean doesn’t mean the problem lies with you.”
I stand, holding my bananas, feeling very out of place. When he’s done, I lean my head into the truck as far as I can. “I’m so sorry, Olive. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”
She smiles a little. “I can’t believe you called her all those names. Hateful, horrible, cruel and what was the other one?”
I slump a little. “Shallow.”
“Right. What does that one mean?”
“Err—someone who cares more about how they look than how they act.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Ooh, that’s a great word!”
I take a long look at her. She’s sitting there with wildly crazy hair, red eyes from crying, having been horribly rejected today by almost all the girls she knows, and yet she seems to be bouncing back already.
Finally daring to look at Liam, I say, “I’m really sorry. That was … uncalled for.”
“That was something, all right.” He raises his eyebrows, looking nonplussed. “Abigail, I think I’m going to take Olive home. She’s had quite the day.”
“Oh, well, sure. That makes sense.” I don’t protest or tell him I was planning to see if they wanted to come over for celebratory spaghetti. I know he wants to get away from me and I completely understand his reasoning. He needs to get his daughter away from the insane woman who just yelled at an eight-year-old child she’s never met before.
Liam climbs into the truck, and before he can close the door, Olive says, “Thank you for sticking up for me.”
My shoulders slump. “I’m afraid I didn’t handle that the way I should have. Grown-ups are supposed to be better at staying calm.” I give her an apologetic look.
“Don’t be sorry. It was the most awesome thing anyone’s ever done for me.” She gives me a wide grin, bordering on evil delight and I return it.
“Have a good night, beautiful girl.”
“You too, beautiful lady.”
I turn to Liam with an apologetic expression, but he doesn’t let me off the hook. He just purses his lips, raises and lowers his eyebrows, then shuts the door, leaving me standing with my bananas swinging in the wind.
* * *
“So, now what do I do?” I ask Lauren, who’s been listening to me pour out all the drama of the last few days, starting with Thursday night and ending with my tirade against the nasty eight-year-olds. She’s cooking supper while I rant.
Lauren lets out a long breath. “Wow, Abby, that is … wow.”
“I know. I was awful. I just got so mad, I blew up.”
“Urgh, that makes me feel all squishy inside just thinking about it,” she says.
“Well, thanks for that,” I say, hoping she can hear my eyes roll.
“One thing’s for sure, you can never show your face at that school again.”
“I know.”
“And honestly, after the fertilized egg comment, I’m not even sure you should show your face around Liam either.”
I groan, and flop onto my bed, covering my face with a decorative pillow. Walt hops up onto my bed and sniffs my ear, his whiskers tickling my cheek.
“That’s it. I’m out. I can’t be a part of this. I’m not built for emotional roller coasters,” I say. “This is way too hard. And it’s not the ‘does he or doesn’t he’ thing that’s the problem—although it sucks. It’s watching a child you care about get her heart crushed and knowing you really can’t do anything to make this world a less evil place for her. We were right not to bring children into this world.”
“Umm, I think it’s too late for you to just say ‘peace out’ to these people. The little girl clearly sees you as the mother she wishes she had. You can’t just take off on her.”
Banging my head on the mattress, I say, “I know. What was I thinking?”
“Well, who knows? Maybe Liam will decide it’s for the best if you slowly taper off your relationship with t
hem.”
“Yeah, maybe. That would be for the best. I obviously don’t know what the hell I’m doing in the parenting department. Not that I’m a parent, but you know …”
“I knew what you meant. The truth is, you’d learn.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I doubt it. I’m too late getting into the game.” I sit up and look at myself in the mirror. “No, I can’t do this. Tomorrow morning when he comes over, I’ll just apologize and tell him we should just back things up a bit. See if he can find a new after-school sitter. It would be for the best.”
“Well, you may be getting ahead of yourself here. I’m not sure he’s going to think this is as big a deal as you do.”
“You didn’t see his face. He was mortified to be seen with me,” I answer.
“Why don’t you call him? Otherwise, you’re going to drive yourself crazy.”
“Yeah, I should do that.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Lauren says, “I wish I could talk longer but we’re about to sit down for dinner and it’s the first time Drew and I have had a meal together since last week.”
“Right, okay. Tell him I say hi.”
“Will do.”
Instead of phoning, I take the coward’s way out and text. Just checking to see how Olive is doing.
A minute later, I get an answer. She’s surviving. We’re snuggled up watching a movie. I’ll see you in the morning.
Well, if that wasn’t Canadian for ‘you’ve done enough. Leave us alone, psycho,’ I don’t know what is. I toss my phone onto the bed and run a nice hot bath.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit.
~ J.R.R. Tolkien
The coffee goes cold while I wait for Liam to arrive. My stomach churns and my mind spins like it did all night. Should I tell him I might be in love with him, and that even though I know I’m far from perfect, I want to be there for him and Olive? Or tell him I can’t do this, and we should back away for everyone’s sake?
The After Wife Page 23