Megan took a deep breath and began to tell Holly about her decision. “Holly, you know, sometimes god does things for bigger reasons. Maybe you were put here to take care of me and Olivia. Maybe we are your surrogate children. I mean, you spent night after night at my house while I went through treatment, and you are always here for us.”
A tear slid down Holly’s cheek. “Maybe,” she said, softly. “I just always thought I’d have a child of my own—and poor Jack, he didn’t sign up for a life without children.”
Megan swallowed her confession, knowing that at that moment, it would only hurt more. “He signed on with you, Holly, with or without children. Jack is happy with you, he doesn’t need more.”
“You think?” Holly wiped her face, and silently wondered if she were selfish to keep Jack to herself, or if she should let him go make a real family with someone else. “Oh, Holly,” Megan slid into Holly’s side of the booth and wrapped her in her arms, “Jack loves you. You are his family!”
“Look at me. What a mess I am. This is the time we have to talk about you and Livi and what you guys went through, and here I am, taking center stage and being selfish.”
Megan laughed, “Nonsense. There is no my time or your time. There is only our time!” “Thanks, Meg.”
“Listen, Olivia and I started seeing the therapist that the doctor recommended. It’s weird, you know, that one day can change your entire life so dramatically. Anyway, she’s really good and is helping me and Livi communicate better. Things have been…weird lately. Maybe you should talk to her about…all this.”
Holly jumped at the chance to steer their conversation away from her pain. “You two have never had trouble communicating. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been busy and she misses me, or misses my attention.”
“You’ve been more than busy. It’s almost like you want to be away from her. It’s so unlike you, Meggie. You have always spent your time with Olivia. What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Megan snapped, and then looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been a little stressed.” Hearing her friend’s concern only magnified the torturous feelings of guilt that were eating away at her.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Holly said.
Megan wrote down the therapist’s number and told Holly that her next doctor’s appointment was on June 30 and that she was welcome to go along with her.
In an effort to lighten the conversation, Holly brought up Megan’s birthday, May 1st, and the annual ritual that she, Megan, Jack, and Peter held around a campfire, as they had been doing together since their college years to celebrate her birthday.
A chill ran down Megan’s spine as she realized that the night of the ritual was perfect to carry out her plan.
Olivia had been swimming in her own thoughts for weeks. Concerned about why her mother was lying to her and disgusted with herself about the myroom.com incident, she felt like her whole world was spiraling out of control—if only she had something solid to hold on to.
She looked around the hallway, watched the girls huddled together and the boys slapping the lockers as they walked by. She felt as though she no longer belonged in school. The other kids’ lives were so normal, and hers felt anything but normal lately. She didn’t even feel as though she could relate to the few girls she normally strolled the halls with. She flipped open her cell phone and quickly dialed.
“Peter?” Olivia pleaded.
Olivia sat silently in Peter’s car. She looked out the window and fidgeted with her seat belt. Peter watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had seemed on the verge of tears when she called. She spoke quickly about having to get out of school fast and not feeling very well. He had tried to reach Megan, and when he had been unable to, went to pick her up. With what she had recently been through, he could understand her feeling overwhelmed and out of place. Now she simply seemed uncomfortable in her own skin.
Her hair was swept off her neck in a loose pony tail, and her green tank top set off her eyes. Although her coloring was the opposite of Megan’s, she reminded him of how beautiful Megan had been before her illness.
He couldn’t help but be angry with god that Olivia had had to endure her mother’s fight with cancer.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” Olivia said as she stared out the open window, wisps of her hair blowing in the wind.
“No problem. Are you alright?” Peter asked, trying to sound very non-parental.
“Do you know who my father is?” she asked. Just like that, simple and plain, she laid it out before him with no warning.
Peter’s heart beat faster. He was caught off guard, and took a minute to gather his thoughts, then decided that honesty was best. “Well, no, not really.”
She turned to him, pulled her legs up onto the seat. “Come on, Peter. You know everything about Mom! I can’t ask Holly, she’ll tell Mom I asked. Please?” she pleaded, her hands clasped together under her chin.
Peter shifted his position and spoke gently, “Olivia, I think you should ask your mother.”
“Come on, Peter. I know you know, and I know my mother. She couldn’t keep that big of a secret, not for this long—and she tells you everything!” Olivia was testy. Her voice grew louder. “I’m fourteen years old! Fourteen, Peter! Don’t you think I’m old enough to know?”
“That’s a question only your mom can answer. Olivia, I really truly do not know. I promise you that, and you know I’ve never lied to you!”
“Whatever,” she said, and set her eyes on the passing trees beyond the passenger’s window.
Peter pulled the car over. He reached out, and with his index finger, lifted Olivia’s chin toward him. “Olivia,” he said sweetly, “I promise you that I don’t know. What is all this about? Why are you wondering now?”
Tears, fresh and warm, streamed down her cheeks and over Peter’s hand. “She’s gonna die, Peter, and I’ll have no one,” she whispered, then, completely overwhelmed by the thought of losing her mother, she collapsed into his arms.
Peter held her tight, his own eyes brimmed with tears. “She’s not going to die, Olivia. She beat it, remember?”
“But she’s throwing up every day, and she never eats!” Olivia burrowed into his chest. “I know she’s lying to me. I know she’s really sick! I can just…feel it.”
“Olivia, your mother doesn’t lie to you. It’s probably the stress that you see her going through. You know how her body reacts to stress.”
“Maybe,” she said, sniffling. “What will I do, Peter? if she dies, what will I do? grandma can’t take me, she’s too sick, and I don’t want to be alone! And I have no idea who my father is, and—” she sobbed into her hands.
At the height of Megan’s illness, Peter had thought of this scenario often. He had asked, many times in fact, who Olivia’s father was. Megan had insisted it was someone from overseas, someone she had met on her three-month painting excursion a few years after college, but Peter had never believed it. He had tried pushing, but she had always maintained the same story: It was a fling with a handsome foreigner. The story was too cliché for Peter to believe. Megan didn’t do flings. She hadn’t dated many guys in college, always too busy with painting, classes, or Holly. There was no one who turned her head and set butterflies loose in her stomach, or so she had said. She had been content to hang out with Peter and Holly. Peter had always believed that some day she’d come around and tell them the truth, or at least tell Olivia.
“You can’t think this way, honey. Your mom isn’t going anywhere, and if she were, well, she’d make sure you were well taken care of.” Peter felt his heart crumble with sadness, and tried his hardest not to give in to the tears that were threatening. He knew Olivia was right. He could feel it in his soul, but he held that secret deep within.
Peter remembered the night, several years before, when Megan had asked Holly and Jack if they would adopt Olivia if something were to happen to her. At first, Holly and Jack
didn’t even want to think about it, but Megan had insisted.
Since she was a single mother, she had explained, she had to think about those types of things. Holly had cried, Jack had been strong for Megan, and Peter had felt left out.
Though now he understood that raising a small child would have been an all-consuming responsibility that he had been nowhere near ready for, back then he had simply wanted to be included.
Peter looked at Olivia’s fourteen-year-old, confused face, and realized for the first time the true depth of her turmoil and pain. Unsure of exactly what to do, he did what he knew best. He was kind and loving. He smiled comfortingly and said, “Come on, sweetie, what do you say we go find some chocolate?”
Olivia smiled up at him, “You won’t tell Mom I asked?” “Of course not,” Peter said, and hugged her again, silently hoping that Megan was not ill once again.
“Thanks, Peter. I’m sorry. I just get so sad sometimes, and I don’t want to do something stupid again.”
“What was that about, Olivia? That was so unlike you,” he said, immediately regretting his parental tone. “I mean, it’s a pretty typical teenager thing to do, but you usually err on the side of caution, not the typical.”
She gazed out the window again. “I was so mad at Mom for not spending time with me, you know?” She turned her green eyes toward Peter, solemn and serious.
“I understand, I guess. You were pissed, so you did something that would make her pissed?” Peter asked.
“Yes, exactly! I did something that was wrong, for once!”
She laughed a quiet, ashamed laugh. “Only it wasn’t fun. I was scared the whole time. Even when I met the guy who was my age, I knew it was wrong.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m such a mess, Peter.”
“No, you’re not a mess, Olivia. If you only knew all of the stupid things I’ve done. You are just a fourteen-yearold girl, doing what fourteen-year-old girls do!” He smiled. “Hopefully not everything that fourteen-year-olds do!” he laughed.
Olivia blushed.
“You’re just a normal teenager. Everyone is confused about everything when they’re a teenager.”
“Then I can’t wait to grow up.”
Peter swallowed hard, Don’t rush it, kid. It doesn’t get any easier.
Chapter Three
Megan’s entire body was on fire. She couldn’t get out of bed, yet lying there hurt right through to her bones. She reached into her nightstand and took another Percocet, left over from her surgery. It sat in her throat like a gobstopper, hard and wrong, taking far too long to make its way down her thin throat and leaving a dull ache in its path. She had felt like that for days, the aching through her bones. She’d been able to maneuver through each day on pain medication and made a habit of staying away from Olivia and Holly so they wouldn’t question her. While Olivia was at school, Megan rested, and just before she arrived home, Megan would take her car to the beach, and sleep in the backseat while parked below three tall pine trees at the edge of the parking lot—they provided just enough shade to keep her cool, though she kept a blanket in the car for the moments when she found herself shivering. The few pounds she had dropped over recent weeks had left her chilly.
At night, Megan brought dinner home for Olivia and they ate quietly in front of the television. Olivia chatted about school, and Megan listened as best as she was able. Megan continued to use the mural as her excuse for her exhaustion, fabricating tales of spilled paint and bright hues that delighted Olivia.
It had become a daily struggle for Megan to hold on as the urge to end the pain was often so great it was all encompassing, but she had promised herself that she would end her life encircled by her friends, the people she loved.
As she looked around her bedroom, she realized that putting things in order was out of the question and felt badly for having to leave things undone. In her mind, she rattled off the things she would do if she could: put clothes in bags and mark them for whom they were intended, clean out the entire house from unwanted or unnecessary junk, show Olivia each special item she owned and tell her the story behind it (though that she had already done many times before, and she knew Holly could repeat every story, except the history of her Yin necklace).
Megan was thankful that she had already completed the necessary paperwork for Holly and Jack to adopt Olivia, and that she had taken care of her will and life insurance documents, which were both safely tucked away in her mahogany chest.
The phone rang, startling Megan. She didn’t answer it, choosing instead to roll over and rest. As she faded toward sleep, she was overwhelmed with sadness. It was hard for her to decipher what caused her the harshest grief: her impending death or the pills. The Percocet won out and she fell quickly into oblivion.
“Mom!” Olivia yelled as she walked in the door. “Mom?”
Holly, whom Olivia had called after school because she wanted to talk and couldn’t reach her mother, put her hand on Olivia’s shoulder from behind, “Shh. She’s probably asleep. She’s been working really hard.”
Olivia nodded and walked upstairs, dropping her school books in her bedroom and walking quietly to her mother’s room. Olivia was standing in her mother’s doorway with her hand over her mouth when she again felt Holly’s hand on her shoulder. She turned and buried her head in Holly’s chest, “Is she…dead?”
“No, baby, no!” Holly said, holding Olivia. “She’s sleeping, honey.” Holly took in Megan’s rail-thin arms spread across her covers, her gaunt face and body appeared as tiny as a child’s surrounded by fluffy white pillows. She watched the slight movement of the comforter, up and down, with each of Megan’s shallow breaths. “Shh,” she whispered, “honey, she’s exhausted. She’s sleeping.”
Olivia pulled away from Holly slowly, looking at her mother. Her eyes wallowed in fear and relief. “Are you sure?” she barely whispered.
“I’m sure.” Holly kept her arm around Olivia, and felt the truth of the situation sink into her soul. She was losing her best friend. Olivia was losing her mother. The last few weeks had gone by so quickly that she hadn’t even noticed how quickly Megan had emaciated, which was very apparent now as she looked like a shrunken doll in her bed, the life sucked out of her.
Olivia walked slowly into her mother’s room and knelt by her bedside. She watched the minute movements of the blanket on her mother’s chest. She smiled at her Winniethe-Pooh doll, matted and loved, tucked under her mother’s shoulder. As her tears fell, trembling began just below her knees and worked its way up her body, spreading down her arms and up her neck. A strange understanding washed over her as she realized just how sick her mother was. The frantic feeling of dejection over what she was losing left her as she exhaled and was replaced by one of compassion, filling her lungs and her heart when she took a breath. She reached up and pushed her mother’s curly hair away from her face, her fingers gently outlined her mother’s cheekbones and ran along the fine edge of her jaw. A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on her mother’s pillow. Olivia moved slowly onto the bed and snuggled into her, as close to Megan as she could without waking her. She let out her breath, long and slow, and closed her eyes.
Holly hovered in the doorway, crying, feeling as though she were witnessing something far too intimate, too private, and that she should walk away. She could not. She was riveted by what was before her—the love that transcended their bodies and enveloped them. Her heart ached for Megan and what she would lose when she left this earth, and for Olivia, and the things she would never experience with her own mother. Her legs felt heavy, and as she tried to walk away, she found herself walking slowly toward the bed, unable to turn away. She was driven, it seemed, toward her lifelong best friend, her confidant, her soul mate. She hesitated next to the bed for only a moment, and then eased next to Megan’s other side, and draped her arm across her friend, taking Olivia’s hand into her own. In the silence, their breathing fell into an easy rhythm. It took only a few minutes for Holly to realize that Olivia had fallen asleep
. Poor child, this is too much. She allowed herself to disappear into the comfort of darkness, escaping the despair in her heart.
The dark night peeked through the curtains which swayed in the breeze. Megan’s mind was confused, not sure where she was or how long she had been asleep. The clock on the nightstand read seven twenty-two. Morning or night? After another moment of thought, she realized that it must be evening because it was dark out. As the fog cleared from her head, she sat up in bed and realized with a start that she must have slept all day. Olivia! She placed her feet on the floor and tried to stand up, but her legs were too weak. She heard footsteps padding down the hall.
“Livi?” she said, just above a whisper. There was no answer. Louder, she said, “Olivia?”
Holly peered into the bedroom. She hesitated, smiled, and walked toward Megan doing all she could to keep from crying. “Hi, honey. You were sleeping, so we didn’t wake you.”
Megan rubbed her eyes. “How long have you been here? is Livi okay?” As she said the words, she placed her hand on her stomach, feeling no odd pains, just overwhelming calm, and she realized that Olivia was just fine, which Holly confirmed.
“She’s watching television downstairs. I made her dinner.” Holly sat close to Megan.
“Thanks, Hol. I’m so sorry. I must have been really tired,” Megan looked away.
“We know, Meggie,” Holly whispered.
Megan sat silently, understanding the words, but uncertain about what to say. Her eyes stared vacantly at the wall in front of her.
“Meggie, we know. It’s okay,” Holly said gently.
Megan looked down at her lap, examining her palms as if it were the first time she had seen them. She ran her index finger over the deep lines, Lifelines, she thought, and let out a little sigh of skepticism.
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