by Jamie Knight
Fucking great.
“Gotta go, Sasha,” I said, and quickly hung up, despite her protests.
I decided that maybe Sasha was right. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this. She had more experience caring for Kylie than I did – it was sad, but true – and she seemed to think it was best for Kylie to be with a drug addicted mother than with me. I didn’t want to be a bad dad but apparently, I was.
It was true that Kylie needed a mother. Maybe Candy was the better choice. If she was clean, maybe Kylie should be with her.
Was she perfect? No. But I wasn’t either and quite frankly, I wasn’t sure I could do it. I wanted to try, no matter the price. Which included being reminded every minute how inept I was. But it was the feeling of knowing I would fail that I just couldn’t handle.
I rolled over and turned off the light. I wondered how my life would have turned out had I stayed with Olivia back in high school. But I knew I wasn’t good enough for Olivia, or for Kylie either for that matter. I rolled over and fell into a sleep that I’d been waiting for nearly all month long.
The morning came too early. Somewhere in my consciousness, I could hear Sasha still yelling at me, but then I remembered I had long hung up on her and that in reality, it was Kylie, yelling for me to come make her breakfast.
I wanted to ignore her and give myself another ten more minutes of sleep, but I knew I had to get up pronto. Sasha was due to be here to nanny for Kylie, but after our fight last night, I wasn’t sure if she was going to show up.
As I lay there, somewhere between awake and dreaming, I recalled the day Olivia and I ended it for good – for the last time – and we both knew it. We had gone to the ice-skating rink, an activity Olivia and I had always loved. I thought for sure we were in it for good. I loved her.
So, on this day, we had just been kissing while skating and spinning around the rink and I’d offered to go get us each a slice of pizza from the vendor on the side of the arena. We both loved the pizza at that rink.
While I clumsily walked back on the rubber runners, still in skates, pizza in hand, I overheard her talking to Roxanne who had planned to meet us there with her boyfriend Shane at the time. I figured she must have just arrived.
I liked Roxanne, but this looked like a serious conversation and I didn’t see Shane. So, something told me to hang back and eavesdrop.
“Marvin has big dreams,” Roxanne was saying. “He will play professionally. You? What will your life be? Don’t you want to go to Europe as you have always dreamed? Study abroad? Become a teacher? Olivia, my mom always says, ‘don’t hitch your star to someone else’s wagon.’”
I remember watching intently to see how Olivia reacted. She nodded “uh huh.” Then she said, “Well, I mean, I do want to travel. But can’t I do that with Marvin?”
“Not if he’s playing football,” Roxanne said, making me upset that she couldn’t just keep her nose out of our business.
But I remembered feeling as if Roxanne’s words rang true. Was it fair that I keep Kylie back from pursuing her own dreams by chaining her to my own?
Maybe, I thought, now looking back with some perspective, I should have fought harder. But at the time, the fact that Olivia had nodded and said “uh huh” had crushed me. To me, it looked like she was fully saying Roxanne was right and for me that was the ultimate rejection.
We had talked about our lives and she had always expressed that she wanted to be with me, no matter what that meant. My defensive mechanism kicked in and I had to agree with Roxanne that Olivia was better off without me.
So, I went and got the pizza, and never let on that I heard that conversation. But later that night, I initiated a “talk” with her about our future.
I asked her if she thought we were heading in the same direction or a different one. It was always kind of pointless to talk to Olivia about anything like that, though, because she hated to be vulnerable. She’d never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve.
“I do think it seems that our lives will go in two different directions, since you’re going off to college and to play ball and I’ll still be here for two more years,” she’d nodded, with a shrug. “We have to be realistic about these things.”
That was where I should have fought for her. But I was trying to do what I thought was best for her.
I got mad when she said that, even though I was the one who had brought the whole thing up. I guessed I was hoping for a different answer. But I should have known that Olivia is an unpredictable bundle of honest energy and I shouldn’t have asked any question I didn’t want to know the answer to.
Now, there was a knock on my door and Sasha’s voice called out, “Can I come in?”
“No,” I told her, annoyed that she wanted in but glad that she was here to take care of Kylie. “I’m sleeping.”
“Fine,” she said, sounding just as annoyed as she walked away.
I rolled over and went to sleep for a little bit longer. I figured that since I was paying Sasha to care for Kylie and she was here, I wasn’t needed. But really, I could feel myself slipping into the kind of depression that didn’t want to get out of bed.
When I woke back up after about half an hour, Kylie now hopped around in the kitchen, annoying Sasha, and I wondered yet again what would have happened if Olivia and I had stayed together, but clearly it wasn’t meant to be.
I jumped out of bed, rubbed my hands over my face to shake off the night, and headed to the shower. It was time to man up and face the world, whether I liked the idea or not.
I felt more than a bit overwhelmed, though. I wondered how everything was going to turn out.
I couldn’t believe that after all these years, Olivia was back in my life to some extent. And it couldn’t have been worse timing. A custody case and a professional football career in the balance — oh, and there was my crazy nanny, Sasha.
“Hey, Sasha? I’m going to jump into the shower real quick,” I called out of my cracked bedroom door, once I came back to reality and realized that more people existed in this world than just me. “Have you made breakfast for Kylie? If not, I can fry up some eggs when I get out.”
“Yep, they’re made. I also made your daughter oatmeal with bananas the way she likes it, while you slept like a baby.”
“Thanks.”
She was not even trying to hide her anger. But I didn’t really care, because it was her job to do these things, and so I didn’t feel bad for making her do them.
I felt like maybe I should apologize to her for sleeping in, just to be safe and to make sure she would say nice things about me at the court hearing. But I wasn’t used to apologizing and I wasn’t about to start now.
My whole life, I had never made apologies for anything I did or said. It was a hard and fast rule – never fucking apologize.
It was a policy that stuck after watching a brutal entrepreneur on some video after a very big win against Westminster High. I was on a high and felt like I could take on the world.
I had come home to watch a movie and found a “How to make anyone buy anything” video.
I popped it in and there was this meg-millionaire saying, “Never apologize. Do you think I apologize when I go into a company to restructure it and fire half the staff? Never. If I did, I wouldn’t make millions in profit when I buy that company. Feeling bad and getting caught up in regret gets you nowhere. Never apologize.”
At the time, I felt immortal. I smiled and adopted that practice. Thus far, it had worked. Nothing I did from that point on was a regret. I was good, just the way I was.
That unabashed, “I don’t give a fuck” attitude, that guy I created after the win at Westminster, was finding it hard to exist today.
But now, in a world full of Kylie, Olivia and Sasha, my unapologetic approach to life was feeling “rather disingenuous,” as my old pal Greg would always say when I put on false bravado.
Something had to give. That much was clear. But what it was, I had not a clue, nor did I want to deal with it right now.
That wasn’t changing at all.
I still liked to walk away. That part — well, that part was still working for me. So why should I do anything differently?
I ran the shower hot and let it drown my emotions until I felt fully capable of stepping into the reality waiting for me in the kitchen.
Chapter 19
Olivia
My weekend had been rather quiet, finally. Usually I found myself having to grade papers or buy school supplies or do any number of work-related tasks. But now I had some time to myself.
Roxanne came over for brunch and a romcom. I didn’t know what I’d do without that girl.
Professionally and personally I was feeling relaxed and more grounded. Things were good. I decided maybe a facial mask and some lemon tea were just the thing I needed right about now.
So, I put the old kettle on, the shiny orange one my mother had always used, and I worked the green foamy peel into my skin. As I closed my silk robe which kept slipping over my bare breasts and as the face mask tingled and stung a bit, I sat in my favorite kitchen chair to think.
A moment to simply think – it felt so nice. I thought about what my mother might say now. Would she be proud of my choices? How would she feel about my handling of Kylie and Marvin?
I decided there would be no way to know exactly, but I had to guess based on my memories of my mom, she would be thrilled with everything I had accomplished – even how I had put out Old Black Lung’s cigarettes for him.
She’d be sitting down doing her own face mask, probably choosing orange tea and scones. And we’d be laughing about Old Black Lung while she slipped in a bit of advice about narcissistic assholes like Marvin — she’d say I should get over him, but that she could understand why that was hard. I felt good. She was with me – I needn’t wonder.
The steam of the tea and the heat from the stove were causing everything in my house to be hot so I stepped over to open the window. I pulled back the white linen curtain and yanked up the old creaky pane.
The air blasted in. It was so crisp. I inhaled. Autumn was upon us. I loved this time of year, the possibilities… especially seeing as how I was the teacher of first graders, it made it so much more fun.
We had so many milestones to hit. We’d make the hand prints— also known as turkey drawings— for the parents. We’d play dress up on Halloween as we did every year in the auditorium. We’d celebrate all the autumn birthdays and there were many. We’d go to the pumpkin patch.
I was beginning to get excited even as the mask was suddenly getting on my nerves. I yawned because my face was feeling pulled and tugged in all the wrong places. Just then the phone rang. I looked at the ID – Oh God, David Ward. Why?
Again. This man was threatening my peaceful Sunday. I needed to shut him down.
“Hello, Mr. Ward.”
“Olivia. I hope you are having a lovely Sunday.”
“I was – indeed. I was.”
“Well, I’ll make it brief. Look, I need you to please fire up any sense of compassion you have for that precious baby, Kylie, and do the right thing.”
“Mr. Ward?”
“The right thing, Olivia. You are not simply her teacher. You have a history with this family. That is no accident. I feel you came into this child’s life for a reason. Please, Olivia. Talk to Marvin. Tell him he needs to step up and put Kylie first. Tell him that Sasha is not the right choice to have in Kylie’s life as her nanny, and Candy is not good to have in it, either, because even though Kylie does need a mother, Candy can’t seem to stay clean. Tell him to be a man. Tell him to do the right thing as a father. He will not listen to me, that’s for sure. I’m desperate. Not for me but for the sake of that beautiful little girl.”
“Mr. Ward, this is so out of line. I understand your frustration, sir. But you need to have a conversation with your son. And with all due respect, please stop calling me regarding his parenting choices. It’s quite inappropriate.”
“Please, Olivia. Please. He loved you once. If my hunches are right, then you were the only woman he ever loved – in high school or not. I have never seen him care about anyone as much before or since. Please, Olivia.”
While he continued to plead and beg, I momentarily hovered somewhere in between speechless and stunned. It’s not like I believed him or thought any of what he was saying mattered. That was high school.
Big deal if he supposedly loved me then and his dad thought it was only ever me whom he loved. Did I really care? Just then the kettle began whistling insanely. I answered my brain as he continued to chatter away. No. Sort of, well maybe.
The truth is, I didn’t know what to make of any of it. All I could think as I touched the kettle a second too long— long enough to burn my finger, was if it didn’t matter, then… why was my breath suddenly taken from me?
Ward went on ranting, none of which I could hear anymore, or maybe I blocked it out. Next thing I knew, Sandra, David’s second wife, had taken control of the call. I had always liked her, so this was a dirty tactic. How could I be mean, woman to woman?
“Olivia. Darling, it’s Sandra. How are you? I am so sorry to bother you on a Sunday. Surely, such a busy, beautiful, vibrant young woman such as yourself—”
She had me at beautiful. I had to cut her off before she continued trying to sweet talk me. “I understand, Sandra, but—”
“But nothing. Please listen, this is about Kylie. And she loves you. You are her favorite person. She looks forward to going to school every day. I see the change in her since she has been in your class. I know you care. As David said, you have a history with this family. Please help us help Kylie.”
I wondered silently why Marvin’s parents seemed to be more concerned and active about Kylie’s progress than Marvin himself was. I let Sandra go on. I also wondered why I found it so difficult to stop thinking about Marvin suddenly, even though he and I had been long over, and I was completely over him.
Wasn’t I?
I pushed the orange kettle to the side, off the burner. Now on this once perfect Sunday, my finger was on fire, my mask was hard as a rock, and David, and now Sandra, were driving me crazy.
So, I took my cell phone over to the bathroom sink, put them on speaker, shouted an obligatory, “Yes, I understand,” then muted the phone and washed my face mask off while David got back onto the phone and went on and on.
I was not impressed. With my Sunday protective layer of peace now horribly breached, I threw a hot wet towel over my face to remove the remainder of the green peel, and took him off mute. I sat down with my tea and let him go on and on. Until finally David took a breath and concluded.
“Would you be willing to help? Olivia? Are you still there?”
“Okay. Okay, Mr. Ward, I will do what I can,” I uttered with complete confidence, the most egregious lie I had let loose in years.
With that we said our goodbyes and I suddenly felt myself crying. Had he ruined my peaceful day? Was that really it? Maybe I was hormonal. How was I in tears? I had barely heard any of what he said. And the breach of peace wasn’t that intrusive.
After all, it was only Mr. W. He was right when he said Marvin wasn’t simply any parent. The Wards had indeed been like family to me. And at such a transformative time in your life, high school, the family of your first love— even when that family is dysfunctional, even in the darker moments— they remain and will always remain family.
Mr. W. had always loved me. He was always really very sweet to me and not in the perv, old geezer kind of way that Roxie described. He was sort of a dad to me. Sure, Marvin hated his guts, but every kid I knew back then hated at least one of their parents.
And Marvin was right: David wasn’t the best dad, but should I punish him now that he was trying to be a good granddad? More importantly, why was I crying in my tea?
The air felt so good on my face, albeit on a newly ripped off layer of skin, but it felt like clean air hitting my cheeks. Who was I kidding? I was raw in every way.
I began to sob.
So, when in doubt, what else to do but call my best friend? I grabbed my phone and dialed Roxanne.
“Hey, Roxie. How are you, girl? Do you have a second?”
“Of course, sweets. How are you doing? Why aren’t you relaxing with a face mask instead of calling to talk to little old me?”
“Hah, I was. But not anymore.”
I slurped on my warm lemon tea and wiped my nose on my sweatshirt so she wouldn’t hear sniffles.
“What are you up to today?” I waded in the water slowly, so as not to reveal the actual reason for my call.
“Oh, you know, wedding planning stuff as usual. We picked a band. And then I was tasting wedding cakes all day. Wow! Can I just say that I am on a sugar high and it’s not the fun kind?”
We both laughed and then she continued.
“So, you’d think wedding cake tasting would be a blast. Well, that was true when it was about the first or second sample. On sample fifty, I was ready to puke. At first the sweet butter cream is the best thing to hit your taste buds since you started eating solid food. But after red velvet, and pumpkin cream cheese, and chocolate mousse. Lemon chiffon, and orange butter cream and caramel pecan and vanilla coffee... Please, I need an enema. Yuck. I don’t ever want to eat another piece of wedding cake again. Do you understand?”
“Um—”
“Well, okay, maybe on my wedding day.”
I laughed again because that was going to be the next thing out of my mouth. I had a feeling this small talk wouldn’t last. Roxie always saw through me but I was kind of enjoying the fluffy wedding cake discussion. Just as I settled into the vacuous conversation, though, she hit me with…
“Uh, what’s going on? You definitely didn’t call me about wedding cakes,” she asked, knowing me all too well.
“Oh, no. I mean, I didn’t call for any reason, particularly. I am great. I’m great. So good. So, um yeah… just sitting here enjoying some tea on a quiet Sunday aft—"
“If your tea and facial mask routine got interrupted to the point where you need to call me, then hmmm, you are not telling me something.”