by Tomas, G. L.
He was developing his own way of bonding with her, completely separate from the way I bonded with her, or even the way he bonded with me. I’d had my own careless reason why I hadn’t told Olli in the first place, but it was seeming to matter less and less.
I knew now that Olli would’ve likely done anything just to keep food on our table, even taken work that didn’t meet his skill set. A life like that would’ve still been happy; but a selfish part of me liked the way Olivia seemed so impressed by him, knowing he had the means and wealth to spoil her at any time, and likely would be based on his seven-year absence in her life.
If any kid deserved it, it was my Olivia. Our Olivia.
I watched from the backseat as Olli attempted to teach her useful words in Finnish as he went on to tell her he’d picked up a little Danish and Swedish from his travels in Scandinavia, while still managing to master a conversational level of German. Should I have been blushing this hard? My cheeks were warm and tingled just a bit from their exchange about what musical genres and musicians she liked—or at least the ones I let her listen to, as he flubbed at the names of American acts like Bruno Mars and Taylor Swift.
It was like watching a movie on my favorite channel. It came as no surprise Olivia hadn’t wanted the day to end. “Aw, do we have to go inside?” she whined just moments after Olli had pulled up to our house. We’d all collectively unbuckled our seatbelts and Olli reassured her they’d get one more memory before we exited the car.
“I will walk you in and make sure my girls are okay. Is that okay?” Olivia nodded and I swear the sudden rush to my cheeks would’ve been noticeable if I’d had lighter skin.
“I wish that we could hang out longer.” Olivia pouted, despite her father reaching in to hold her hand and lead her toward the building. She was wearing that sour face too—that look that rarely worked on me, yet through the looks of it, was clearly melting Olli’s resolve.
“I would enjoy that, too.” Olli only looked in my direction for a half a breath. He wanted to be able to make decisions or reservations considering Olivia but still wanted to respect that my authority was still important. “But I will only do it if your mother is okay with it. I do not wish to overstep her boundaries.”
Olli wouldn’t normally ask my permission for something he felt just as entitled to, but it was clear I’d already set rules for Olivia, so I appreciated that he respected that. Things could change in the future. I wouldn’t expect Olli to follow my lead forever when it came to raising our first daughter. But right now we were taking things day by day.
“I’m okay with you two spending time with each other, so long as you’re home by a decent hour.” I directed at Olivia. Olli nodded as we walked up the stairs to our floor. As promised, Olli got us there in one piece. I assumed he’d know he had an open invitation inside the apartment I now shared with my mother, but he was polite. He wanted to be invited in as there was no reason for him to wait in the hallway while Olivia changed for dinner.
Mami must’ve been cooking. There was a lingering scent of peanut sauce fragrancing the entire living room. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say contrichop con arroz was on the menu. I should’ve called her ahead of time to make enough, should Olli have wanted to stay for dinner. Mami stepped out of the kitchen, mouth a gap, surprised Olli was standing in the living room.
“Buenos días, Ms. Obiang.” His tone soft, his hands gestured in front of him as if he were about to bow.
“Hello, Olli. I’m assuming you are staying for dinner, no?” For reasons known more to me based on my relationship to her, it seemed like an invitation to mock me, more than genuinely invite him. She wanted nothing more for him to be the father mine had been to me.
“I’m afraid not, Ms. Obiang. But thank you anyway; everything smells amazing.”
Mami was not expecting him to be so cordial, faking a smile while making a backhanded comment in Spanish too intelligible for more than herself to hear. When Olivia ran into the living room, Olli met her with a bent knee to reach down to her height, as she climbed into his arms to give him one last finally hug. They already loved each other.
“Can we go out to eat?” she asked him, knowing I’d intervene.
“Abuela is cooking. Don’t be so quick to ruin your appetite.”
Olli surprised me when he brought his gaze in my direction, nearly hypnotizing me to say yes to anything he’d ask. “Is ice cream fine?”
I knew that any answer that wasn’t a yes was likely to make me the bad cop in our co-parenting dynamic. It wouldn’t have mattered though; when he paid attention to me, there was never a time that I’d say no. “Yes, but in moderation. That’s fine.”
Olli twirled Olivia around in a playful manner I’d never seen him behave before now. “We’re going out for ice cream. How does that sound?” Olivia giggled, alerting the entire room at just how excited she was to be going out for sweets that went beyond the traditional sweet plantain or rice pudding that was always waiting for her at home. Olli walked over to me and awkwardly kissed me on the cheek. Once it was over with, Olivia gained his full attention as I followed my mother into the kitchen.
I’d silently thanked her by pressing my palms together and mouthing gracías, for keeping the animosity down, especially keeping her opinion to herself in the company of Olli and our daughter. She held nothing back in my company, however.
“Maria Bendícion, why is that man still here? Did he not get what he came for?” Referring to the divorce papers she assumed had been the reason for his trip. I never went into detail what had happened in Helsinki, and with his absence, she had right to her suspicion. But I’d never actually known what happened between her and my father. For all I knew, their fallout could’ve been the very thing that stood between me and Olli a few days ago. But because I’d never asked for any details, accepting my father wasn’t interested in taking care of me, she was in no position to judge. Especially since Olli was stepping up.
“What he came here for, is a relationship for his daughter. Which he does have every right to.”
“Since yesterday?” She challenged.
“Since Olli and I are still married. I should’ve made that clear the moment I got here, but Olli and I have decided a divorce wasn’t best for us right now.”
Mami’s eyebrows furrowed, as it was met with lips curled based on the confusion. “So, wait; I am confused. Was he not to marry another woman? Was that not the reason you flew all the way to another country when responsibility plagued you here?”
Mami knew which words to use to trigger me to defend myself, but I’d be cautious to admit the things that were not her business. “Ma, all you need to know is that Olli wants to get back together so much, he was willing to shred the already signed divorce papers, uproot his entire life to California, just to be the best father he can be to Olivia. Would that be okay with you?” I was on the fence of whether I wanted her to hear the sarcasm in my voice or not. She was used to being blunt, but her harsh words were rarely rooted in sardonic humor. I loved her, but who was she to argue with what was right in front of her? At every turn, she looked for cracks in Olli’s armor to prove he wasn’t perfect. To prove he was more similar to a man I barely knew than different.
“So if you two are still married, why is he staying at a hotel?” Mami wanted me to have no answer. It was obvious from the start she’d wanted to one-up my recent reveal. Even if I gave her a reason, she wouldn’t be satisfied with the truth. That Olli was still upset. With me. The trust I so easily gave away during our reunion, would have to be earned back on my end. I was patient enough not to force it. I wanted forever to have a lasting effect.
For now, I’d just let Ma believe in my naivete. She was just protecting me from pain and heartbreak, but I didn’t need protection from Olli. I needed his protection. Olli wasn’t my father. He was his own man.
The same man taking our daughter out for ice cream right now. The same man that welcomed news about his daughter with dignity and humility, inst
ead of punishing her with my mistake.
Maybe things weren’t going the way I’d planned them to, but I was sure they were going the way Olli planned them to. And I’d be selfish to ask anything more of him.
25
Olli
Her hand felt so small in mine. The smooth feel of her cinnamon complected little hand. Even as we waited in line for ice cream, I was impressed with how well behaved Olivia was in comparison to the other children around us. Up ahead there was a little boy who’d dropped his cone for being too impatient to listen to his mom’s instructions of eating it slowly. But my sweet girl stood quietly by my side, tugging my sport jacket with the occasional question about how many toppings she could get once we were the next in line. So sweet and polite like her mom. I gave her arm a little shove, her gaze centering on me with wide-eyed innocence.
“Did you know Finland is the world’s fourth consumer of ice cream? This means where I’m from, we eat far more ice cream than you do here in America.”
“But isn’t it cold all year round? I looked it up online and every site I went on says that Finland is always covered in snow. That some people even bring out their skis just to go to work and school.” That idea made me laugh. Olivia said some of the most charming things and I loved every second of her wild ideas that involved my native land.
“I don’t know about skiing to work, but it sounds like fun. And to answer your question, yes it is cold most of the year but it is why we appreciate summer when it comes. Even so, not even five kilometers of snow could keep us away from our beloved ice cream. Do you have a favorite flavor?” As we approached the beginning of the line, the chalkboard behind the long glass case displayed the two dozen or so kinds of frozen treats they had available for the day. The colors ranged from an assortment of tastes, textures, and flavors that even I was uncertain to what I might choose. I decided I’d let Olivia decide for me. After all, if she were truly her father’s daughter, she would choose wisely with a flavor I was sure to love.
“Umm…I like caramel. Oh and cookie dough,” She blurted out as if remembering the moment she got close enough to get a quick refresher course on all the flavors. “Actually, I sort of like them all; it’s just those are my favorites. Do you have a favorite, Iskä?
“I like caramel, too.” I offered a warm smile. Caramel was what I’d get. The things Olivia and I had in common were almost frightening. We shared the same love of nature and for that, I couldn’t wait for her to see my home in the spring and summertime. Similar sense of humor. Quite often, I had to break down clever things I’d said to the unwilling recipient, but Oli always seemed to get when I was trying to be funny, and it always put a smile on my face when I could make her laugh. I loved seeing that toothy smile. If I were to look back at my own childhood photos, I was certain she and I were missing the same teeth, so it wasn’t hard not to see my seven-year-old self in her.
And now, she and I could bond over ice cream flavors. Everything I knew about her I loved. To think I’d convinced myself I could never love another the way I did her mother but I was wrong. These women in my life were the death of my unhappiness.
There were things about her that reminded me of her mom. Her ability to strike up a conversation with people she barely knew. Her desire to have long debates about everything and sometimes nothing at all. The traits she inherited from the both of us truly defined what it meant to be the best of both worlds and I looked forward to every moment we got to spend with each other from this moment on.
Finally reaching the ordering counter, I let Olivia persuade me into getting the largest size available of creamy dulce de leche but only if we could sit down and enjoy it together. She’d come to learn that her father didn’t do anything on the go. I liked to take my time to enjoy things, the thing in question being more of her time. We carried our bowls to a nearby booth with plush red seats that squeaked when we sat across from each other. A medley of Benny’s striking beauty and my unique oddness, I couldn’t help but admire how beautiful this girl really was.
“How do you like the ice cream?” I asked popping a spoonful in my mouth as I watched her savor a frozen bite of hers.
“It’s really good.”
“You know there’s a place in my city that has the world’s best ice cream.” She pointed her little spoon at me, offended I’d even suggest a better place than here.
“In your opinion.”
I nodded. “Yes, it is in fact, my opinion. But I’ll have you know they have dozens of flavors you’ll never see here. Tastes you’ll only experience in Helsinki.” I flirted. “Perhaps one of these days we can go sometimes. If it’s okay with your mom. But you have to like the snow,” I teased. Her eyes lit up at the mere suggestion of snow.
“Are you kidding? I love snow. I wish we didn’t always have to visit mom at her job just to play in it.”
“So, you don’t mind the freezing cold? Having to bundle up to stay warm?” The man-made snow I assumed she spoke of could hardly compare to the late winter in Southern Finland but to my delight, her answer was like music to my ears.
“Everyone thinks I’m weird. I prefer snow to the warm weather.”
While I did have a preference for Helsinki’s short summers, the winter hardly bothered me. I was happy to discover it didn’t bother her either. I had so many places I wanted to show her. “Do you think you could see yourself living in a place where it snows all the time, like where I live?”
She shrugged, this time looking her own age instead of the seven-year-old going on thirty-five attitude she usually displayed. “Yeah, I could. Even if it were just to see where Santa Claus lives.” That ounce of knowledge made me smile again. “Word is, there’s a place called Lapland, and that’s where Santa really lives. Not the North Pole like I’ve been led to believe this whole time.” She finished her statement as if I were unknowledgeable about that very subject.
I rested my chin in my hand, ready to unveil a well-kept secret. “I hate to confirm but it is true. He makes it a priority to visit the children on his Finnish list first. Another plus to the holidays where I am from.” I smiled and in turn, she rewarded me with a smile in return. She took another spoonful from her large bowl of ice cream, and it was evident that she was much faster at enjoying her frozen treat than I was. I actually liked the milky mess it was becoming.
“Can Mami come, too?” she asked as if sensing our rift from today’s nature trail. “Of course she can. Your mom loves it there. I know you’ll like it, too.”
“Iskä, do you love my mom?” I hesitated, feeling bulldozed and backed into an inescapable corner. At seven, it was hard to believe she even knew anything about love the way adults expressed it but she must have known something; otherwise, she wouldn’t have asked such a provoking question. Perhaps she was more mature than I’d come to realize. This being our first in-depth conversation about something she wasn’t able to see with her eyes, but that greatly impacted her life.
With me being around more, things were set to change for her and I didn’t want to start our relationship with my sugarcoating the past I shared with her mom. She deserved to hear the truth about my feelings. “Olivia, I love your mom very much.”
“But do you love her or are you in love with her?” she asked with an adult perception.
The only answer was that I was in love with Benny, maybe even the only woman I’d ever loved. “Olivia, when I look at your mother, I get knots in my stomach. To answer your question, I am both in love and love her as a person.”
Her lips pursed to one side, looking more like Benny when she made her quick last minute decisions. “I hope you don’t get mad at me for asking this then. If you loved my mom so much then why were you gone for so long?”
Another complicated subject that required time to process my thoughts on the matter. If I wanted to teach my daughter anything, it was openness and honesty in a way that was not compromising. “Well, let me explain to you in a way you’ll understand.” I started. “Your mom and I were
together but then we broke up a long time before you were born. Sometimes, there comes a time when you take on more responsibility than you can handle, but the problem is, when you’re in a relationship with someone, you don’t have just yourself to worry about. It’s your partner that counts on you, too.
Back then, I tried to be a good partner for your mother but failed at being a great one. I loved your mom so much that what I was going through, I didn’t want her to go through with me. Have you ever worked on an assignment at school where you had to work as a team with one of your classmates, and no matter how much work either of you put in, you still received the same grade?” I explained and to my relief, she needed no further breakdown on my example.
“That’s what it’s like to be married to someone. When one person fails at it, both of you suffer as a result. I didn’t want your mother to do more work just to be left with the same outcome. This is why I left. I wasn’t sure I could take care of her, the same way she took care of me and I hated myself for that. Time went by and I went on to meet someone else. I was happy for a while but the idea of meeting you made me happier. Does that make sense to you?”
She nodded, taking the very last bite of her bowl of ice cream, the spoon lost in her mouth as she licked it clean of the last caramel swirl that remained. “I think Mami really likes you. She spends a lot more time getting ready when she knows she’s going to see you and she’s always sad when you don’t give her any hugs.” It was sweet that Olivia cared so much about her mother’s well-being. I’m sure it was hard to watch her mother alone with no one taking care of her the way she took care of others in her life. Benny’s empathy and compassion were so admirable but when her kind face transformed into desolate emptiness, I sensed something wrong deeper than taking the bite of her once full bowl of ice cream. I didn’t like seeing her unhappy.