by Denise Carbo
Olivia walks towards me. “I’m going to turn on the grill. Be right back.” I crane my neck to watch her disappear down a short hallway separating the kitchen and living room.
The boys grab binders from their backpacks and sit at the table. One of them stares at the bag I placed on the table. “What’s in there?”
The other one glances up from digging through his pencil case. He looks at the bag and then at me. “Is that for us?”
“Maybe. Finish your homework and you’ll find out.”
Olivia walks back into the kitchen. “After dinner.”
“Right, what your mom said, after dinner. But I can still tell you what is in the bag after you do your homework.” I peek at Olivia to make sure and she nods.
“I bet it’s those cookies.”
“Not the ones with the raisins. I hate raisins.” The one on the left scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue.
“There are no raisins, I promise.”
He smiles. There’s a slight gap between his two front teeth.
I look at his brother on the right. “What about you? Do you hate raisins too?”
“I like them in bread or cookies.” There isn’t a gap between his teeth.
“Okay, so which one of you is Timmy and which one is Tommy?”
The boys look at each other and smile.
The one on the right shrugs. “No one ever gets it right except family.”
“They don’t help either pretending to be one another to confuse people.” Olivia walks over to the table and stands behind them. She puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “This one here is Tommy.” He’s the boy with no gap. “And this one is Timmy.”
“Okay, I’ll see if I can remember.”
“You won’t.” Tommy assures me.
Olivia rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair. “Do your homework.”
They both concentrate on their papers and what looks like fractions. Olivia walks over to the counter. I stand and follow.
“What can I do to help?”
“You can grab the plates and utensils there and bring them out to the deck.”
I pick up the items she points to and carry them into the living room where I spot the back door. Stacking the utensils onto the plates, I open the door and step onto the wooden deck which spans the length of the house.
There’s a patio table and chairs with a yellow striped umbrella so I walk over to set everything down. Olivia walks outside juggling a salad, shish kebabs, and a tray of sliced watermelon. She uses her hip and elbow to shut the door before I can reach her to help.
“Anything else I can bring out?”
“There are glasses and a pitcher of lemonade on the counter.”
She carries the shish kebabs over to the grill while I go back inside.
The boys smile at me when I walk into the kitchen.
They’ve switched seats.
Smiling I walk over to the table and look down at the boy on the right’s paper. “Timmy how is the homework going?”
“I’m Timmy.” The boy on the left pipes up. I know he’s Tommy because there’s no gap in his teeth.
“Nope, I’ve got the two of you figured out so no trying to trick me or there’ll be no cookies.”
Tommy scowls. “How’d you know? Did Mom see us and tell you?”
“No, and I’m not telling you my secret detection system.”
Timmy grins.
Tommy taps the pencil against his chin. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe.” I carry out the glasses and pitcher and tell Olivia about their switch.
She laughs. “How did you tell?”
“All I’m saying is once their baby teeth fall out, I might not be able to tell anymore.”
“You should be safe for a few years. They seem to be taking after me and I didn’t lose all of mine until I was almost a teenager.”
Dinner was delicious and Olivia was correct. The boys had sticky watermelon juice on their hands and face when they finished. She cleaned them up with a container of wet wipes she had brought outside and they ran off to play on the playscape after helping us carry in the dishes.
We sit on the deck watching them after we clean everything up. Olivia has a glass of wine and I a diet soda.
“Their energy is astonishing.”
Laughing, she leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. “They’ll crash after story time and be out all night until the morning. Then they start again.”
“No wonder you’re so fit. You’re chasing after them all the time.”
“I don’t know about fit, but they keep me busy.”
Olivia sips her white wine. “Did you hear about that poor elderly woman they found?”
“No, what woman?”
“It was on the news. The story had me practically bawling. The mailman noticed her mailbox hadn’t been emptied in days so he knocked on the door. No one answered. He knew she was older and lived alone, so he went around back to try that door too. Again, no answer. He started peeking in windows until he spotted her in the bathroom, dead. He called the police. It turned out; she had been there for over a week. She had no family or friends so nobody missed her absence and checked on her.”
“That is awful.” A chill brushes the back of my neck.
Dying alone with no one caring, it’s a horrible end to someone’s life. What kind of life had she led that brought her to such circumstances? She could’ve outlived any family or friends. Or, had she not had any?
“I know, right? I called my grandparents to check on them and put reminders in my phone to do it more often.”
My grandparents are all long gone.
“It’s sad, but at least stories like that one remind people to cherish their loved ones while they still can.”
Not all of us have loved ones.
Would anyone miss me if I were gone? People would notice the bakery wasn’t open, I suppose.
My parents would eventually question my whereabouts since I live with them. If I get my own place though, who will check?
“I’ve totally brought down the mood now, haven’t I?”
I rest my head on the back of the chair and stare up at the sky. “No, you’re right, it makes you think. I’ve been contemplating making changes in my life.”
“Like what?”
I shrug and roll my eyes. “I was in the doctor’s office reading a magazine article about vision boards and life maps. So I made one of my own. However, nothing seems to be working out the way I envisioned.”
“Life never does, does it? I could probably stand to make one for myself. I tend to describe my life as controlled chaos. What sort of things were on yours?”
“Well, my whole plan hinges on moving out of my parents’ place. So far I have had little luck finding anything in my budget.”
“What’s supposed to happen if you move out?”
My cheeks heat and I hope the increasing shadows of dusk are enough to cover the blush. “Get a life basically. A social life.”
She props her chin on the heel of her hand and stares at me. “I get that living with your parents can stifle a dating life somewhat, but there are work arounds. Inviting a guy back to your parents’ place could be a mind field of issues, but there’s always his place. Unless he lives with his parents too.”
Laughter bubbles up my throat and I choke on the swallow of soda.
She grins and takes a drink of her wine.
“That would definitely happen to me.”
“Don’t feel bad. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a date. We should help each other out with making our life plans work.”
I tilt my head and stare at her. Here I thought Olivia was living a happy fulfilled life. I never would’ve guessed there was something missing for her too.
“I’m all for that. I could use any help I can get. In fact, you’ve already helped me by inviting me to dinner. I made a vow to get out more and stop hiding. Except for the bakery, I’ve been in danger of becoming a hermit.”
>
She raises her glass. “Well then, here’s to us expanding our horizons and maybe one of us will get laid too.”
I clink my glass against hers. “We can hope.”
Splats of water land on my hands and wet circles appear on my pants. I look up at the dark clouds overhead.
“It might be only a passing sprinkle.” Olivia scoots her chair under the umbrella and I follow suit.
The drops increase.
“Or not. Boys come inside.”
Olivia and I both stand, leaning as much of our bodies under the umbrella as we can. The boys laugh and run around the playscape trying to catch the rain drops in their mouths.
It rains in a steady stream.
“Boys!”
Either they don’t hear her or are having too much fun, but they continue to run around the playscape having a blast.
I can’t help the laugh bubbling up at the sight of them playing in the rain.
Olivia and I share a look and then dash out in the rain to dance around the playscape with her sons.
Chapter Fourteen
The sea of clothes spread out before me is nirvana for a lot of people. Racks upon racks of tops, bottoms, dresses, and everything in between fills the store. Varying colors and patterns bleed together and give me a headache. How do people choose among so many options? Basic black works just fine for most situations.
Last night, as I was leaving, Olivia talked me into going shopping with her at the mall. Her sons are at school and the bakery is closed today, so she has the morning free.
It is my day off and I am at the mall.
“Oh look at this! It will look gorgeous on you!” She holds up a frothy blouse to my face. “The pale peach color against your ivory skin looks amazing.”
Really? I peer closer at the top.
“It’s silk, so it needs extra care but feel this texture. It’s so worth it.”
I finger the sleeve and I must admit the soft delicate material is nice. My idea of buying clothes is to wait until I am down to basically nothing to wear then go online and order something that looks good on the woman modeling the clothes and pray it will look half way decent on me when it arrives. Let’s face it, they have models wearing the clothes and everything looks great on them because they are, well, models.
“Try it on.” She holds the blouse out. Taking it, I glance around hoping there won’t be a dressing room in sight, but no such luck, there is one right behind me.
Olivia gives me a slight tap on the shoulder. “Make sure you show me how it looks.”
Did people really do this? Try on clothes and show each other how they look? A woman waltzes out of the dressing room to show two women waiting for her how she looks in the outfit she put on and I realize that yes, they do indeed.
Okay then, it can’t be too hard. I just have to go in there, strip down to my bra in a tiny room with a half door where everyone can see not only from my calves to my toes but my shoulders up. Oh yes, and then I prance out for Olivia to critique how I look.
I sigh and shut the white door with vent slots filling the middle. Was that a decorating style? Because it sure wasn’t for air circulation, there is plenty enough of that in the open space.
The blouse looks good hanging up on the hook. Hopefully it will look at least half as good on me. Glancing around to make sure I am hidden as much as possible, I yank my navy-blue T-shirt over my head and fold it before putting it on the tiny corner shelf. The blouse is smooth and cool as I draw it up my arms. The tiny pearlescent buttons reflect in the lights as I button the blouse. I tuck it into my white jeans not knowing if I should or not, but it seems like a top you tuck in.
“How are you doing Franny?”
I peek over the door. Olivia is standing outside my little compartment.
“Um, okay, I think.” It is hard to tell in the narrow mirror, but it doesn’t look bad.
“Let me see.”
Opening the door, I step back as far as I can in the confined space. Modeling it in here is better than going out into the store.
“I knew it would look great!” Olivia looks me up and down. “Spin around. Let me see the back.”
I present my back and she smooths the material against my lower back and sides.
“There, perfect. Your waist is so tiny. You need to wear more fitted clothes and show it off.”
It is? I do? I look down and peruse my waist. It looks the same as it always does.
“Here, I found these for you to try on too.” The pile of clothes she hangs on the hook momentarily boggles my mind. “This is so much fun.”
The door swings shut, and her blonde ponytail bounces away. An assortment of colors and articles of clothing hang in front of me. She wants me to try all of these on?
****
The ice-cold water trickles down my throat and soothes the nagging thirst that has grown over the last couple of hours. I tried on all the clothes Olivia fetched me and a few more as well. Several of them now rest in various bags sitting at my feet. Olivia has a few bags herself. We decided to end our shopping excursion at a restaurant in the mall. I must admit the shopping hasn’t been as bad as I expected. I actually had fun and might not be entirely opposed to doing it again. In a few months’ time.
We each order a sandwich and as the waitress strides away, Olivia rests her elbows on the round table and stares at me. “So, tell me what’s going on with you and Mitch Atwater.”
Choking on the swallow of water I just took, I set the glass on the table and wipe the drips of water from my chin.
She smiles and hands me a napkin. “I drove the boys to school this morning because I had to drop off cookies for their end of the year party and one of the other moms sidles up to me and starts pumping me for information about you and the local celebrity. I guess she assumed since I work at the bakery, I would know all about it.”
Licking my lips, I gaze around the restaurant filled with booths and chattering people. What am I supposed to tell her? The sham we’re dating? Certainly not the whole truth. I don’t want to lie to her either. I mean friends aren’t supposed to lie to each other, right? That doesn’t mean they have to spill all their secrets either though does it? Crap, is friendship supposed to be hard?
“Franny?”
“I don’t know what to say. We’re friends.” There that’s the truth.
“Friends, huh? I heard the two of you were strolling along main street hand in hand the other day.”
“Any chance you and Ryan will reconcile?”
Olivia sits back in her chair and smirks. “Okay, I get it. You’re not ready to talk about it yet, but when you are, I want to hear about it, deal?”
“Deal.”
“Ryan and I met my freshman year of college. I got pregnant, dropped out of school, got married, and we tried to make it work, but we were both miserable.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. It’s just that you two seem to be so close.”
“Don’t apologize. I was prying too. It’s what friends do.” She winks. “Ryan and I are close. We’re much better friends than husband and wife. Which is great because of the boys, but we would still be friends even if we didn’t have the boys keeping us together.”
“You do an admirable job. I’d like to think I could be on good terms with an ex, but I’m not as nice as you.”
Olivia laughs and drinks her iced tea. “You’d be amazed at how much bullshit you can swallow and accept when there are kids involved, but Ryan and I have to work at it. If he ever gets serious about a woman and wants to introduce the boys to her, I will have to learn to bite my tongue a lot.”
“Girlfriends and boyfriends haven’t been introduced yet?”
“No one serious. We’ve both dated a bit. Him, much more than me, but there has been no one serious enough where we’ve had the introducing the boys to them conversation. Ryan and I both agreed before the divorce not to allow anyone into the boys’ lives without letting each other know first and agreeing it was time.”
Our sandwiches arrive and I take a bite of my portobello mushroom sandwich while Olivia starts on her chicken panini. The combination of balsamic vinaigrette, mushroom, and ciabatta roll is tasty. I chose it because I thought it the healthier option, but the taste will make me order it again. Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I wait for Olivia to finish chewing before asking her another question.
“Do you ever think about going back to school? What did you plan on studying?”
“I had no idea what I wanted to do.” She shrugs her shoulders and tilts her head while looking around the restaurant. “Sure, the thought crossed my mind a time or two, but honestly, I love being home for my boys. They drive me crazy at times, but I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way. When they get older, I might consider going back, but it’s not something I miss.”
Scooting my chair forward, I fiddle with the corner of the placemat. “College wasn’t for me, much to my mother’s dismay.”
“But she must be so proud of you owning a successful bakery.”
I manage not to choke again as I take a sip of water. Proud? Uh no, not the word I would use.
“My mother has certain standards and expectations I don’t measure up to. We are very different people.”
“I’m sorry, Franny.”
One corner of the paper placement is curled into a roll, so I shift over to the other side and start again. “It is what it is.”
“It still hurts though doesn’t it? What is it about a parent’s disapproval that haunts us even into adulthood?”
“I don’t know, but if you find the answer, let me know.”
“Hey, that can be my life’s work once the kids are grown. Of course by then it will be my disappointment my kids are dreading. Although I hope I won’t be too demanding.”
“You won’t. Your love and approval for your sons shines through even when your exasperation over their latest mischief is apparent.”
“Thank you. that’s one of the nicest things someone has ever said to me. My boys are my life.”
We finish our sandwiches while chatting of our mutual anticipation of the summer’s arrival. Olivia’s mother babysits the boys so she can still work at the bakery when they aren’t in school. I never realized how much Olivia loves working at the bakery. She expressed interest in learning more about the baking side and I discovered she is an accomplished home baker.