Olivia

by Lori L. Otto

  “Mom!” I call out from my room, knowing she won’t hear me because she never does from one floor away. Walking through the media room, I wonder if she’ll let me have the key. “Mom?” I yell again, coming up the stairs.

  “Yeah, Liv?”

  I follow her voice to the casual dining room table, where she’s helping my brother with his homework. “Mom, I forgot that one of the paintings I wanted to take for Abram is at the loft.”

  She turns around in her chair. “I saw what you had down there in your studio. I think you have six pieces to take.”

  “No, but you know that one above your chair...”

  “Honey, I can’t go get it tonight.”

  “No, I know. Can I have the key? I swear, I’ll just use it after school tomorrow to get in, grab the painting, and get out. You can call Francisco and tell him he has to go up with me if you don’t trust me. But the show’s at four. I’d only have a few minutes anyway. There’s no time for me to get into any trouble–”

  “Stop rambling, Livvy,” she smiles. “I’ll give you the key, but I honestly think that Abram will be happy with the selection you have downstairs.”

  “I already know he wants that one.” We’d discussed it while looking through my portfolio.

  “Okay. I want you to come home right after the show, though, and I want the key back.”

  “I promise, Mom.” I look at her, and I know she can tell I’m feeling a little helpless. “Jon may not even be talking to me tomorrow, who knows?”

  “Oh, don’t overreact. He’ll be fine. I’m sure Jacks just drove him back to his dorm and talked some sense into him on the way. He’ll probably be calling you any minute.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Hopeful that she’s right, I return to my room and make sure my phone is turned on. He hasn’t called yet, but I’m sure he will.

  After an hour, I decide to take a bath and get ready for bed. I need to get up early so I can spend a little more time getting ready for school. Since I won’t have time to come home before the show, I’ll need to bring a change of clothes and makeup to freshen up before I meet Abram at the temporary studio space. I spend some time comparing outfits, trying to decide what image I want to project. Do I want to look professional? Or creative? I narrow it down to two different dresses, hoping that I’ll be able to make a decision in the morning.

  “Hey, Liv?” Mom asks quietly from my doorway.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you heard from Jon?”

  “No, have you not heard from Dad?”

  “He called me about thirty minutes after he left, saying that it might take awhile. I haven’t heard from him since, though. I called, but he didn’t answer.”

  I pick up my phone and call Jon. It goes directly to his voicemail. I shake my head at her. “Should we worry?”

  “I don’t think so,” she says, sounding genuinely confident. “I know if it’s something important to Dad, he’ll have the conversation with no distractions.” She smiles at me. “Especially if he knows you and your brother are safe at home, which you are. You should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”

  “I know. I think I’ll try.” Mom hugs me tightly and kisses my cheek before leaving my room. “Night, Matty,” I tell my uncle, who’s still in the media room watching a movie. “Hey, Matty, will you wake me up when Dad gets home?”

  “Sure thing, Liv.”

  “Thanks.”

  My sleep restless, I hear my uncle come in some time later.

  “Liv,” he says, gently touching my shoulder as he sits down next to me. “I didn’t want you to worry, but your dad isn’t coming home tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s so late.”

  “No, um... why wasn’t he home earlier? What time is it anyway?”

  “It’s a little after one, and I don’t really know the details,” Matty admits. “But it appears he’s in no shape to drive.”

  “Did they fight?” I sit up suddenly, grabbing my phone to call Jon. My uncle laughs and takes the phone out of my hands.

  “Livvy, from what I understand, your dad and Jon had a talk, and then Jacks went to Steven’s apartment to... decompress, if you will. And they drank. A lot.”

  “Jon too?”

  “Wake up, Little Liv!” he says. “No, of course not Jon. Just Jacks and Stevie.”

  “That’s great. Dad deals with Jon’s alcoholic mother by becoming one himself. Super,” I say sarcastically, lying back down. “Did you talk to Kaydra?”

  “Yes, she called.”

  “Did she say how it went? Did Dad tell her?”

  “She didn’t know,” he says. “She didn’t get the feeling it went as well as he would have liked.”

  I’m suddenly wide awake. “I wonder what happened.” My uncle shakes his head. “Should I call Jon, do you think?”

  “It’s late, Livvy. He had a bad night, and if he’s asleep, you should let him be. You can call him in the morning.”

  “What if he told Dad to break up with me?” I ask, panicked.

  “I think Jon’s a little more respectful than that, hon, don’t you think? Plus, he’s not going to break up with you over this.”

  “But I know it bothers him. A lot.”

  “I know. Let’s just say if your dad and Jon couldn’t come to some sort of a resolution, I bet you and Jon can. You’ve got your little girly ways...” he teases me.

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t get to use those, if you’re referring to what I think you’re referring to. We never get to be alone anymore.”

  “What about Saturday nights? You’re always alone then.”

  “Alone at a restaurant. Or at the movies, or at the park. Alone with hundreds of other people. There’s nowhere we can actually be alone.”

  “Probably by design,” Matty concedes. “I’m sorry, Liv. I wish I could help. I’d suggest the car–”

  “You’ve been in that car. We might as well be in an old-fashioned phone booth... with a gear shift sticking out in between us.”

  “You’re sure that’s a gear shift?”

  I feel my face blush at his crude insinuation, but laugh at the thought. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “How does it make you feel? To not have that time with him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, is it by design on your end, too? Are you kind of relieved? I know it can be a little scary–”

  “No, I want to be with him again, Matty. He’s very... loving. And careful, and sweet. I mean, he’s those things normally, but it’s as if he anticipates what I need, and makes sure that I have everything I want... and I don’t know how to explain, but I’m compelled to do the same for him. I love him. Sometimes I think I’d do anything for him.”

  “That is a side effect of love,” Matty says, his voice longing. “Would you give all of this up for him?” he asks.

  “All of what?”

  “Your money? The support you get from your parents?”

  I think long and hard about my uncle’s question... too long, apparently, because my uncle gets up to leave me with my thoughts. I stop him before he makes it out of my room, though.

  “I love him so much,” I tell Matty.

  “Who?”

  “Jon,” I answer. “I do. But I don’t think I would do that for him.” Matty turns around and smiles. “It’s not the money. If Dad lost everything tomorrow, it’d be hard, but I think I have everything I need to be happy without it. My parents, my brother, my extended family... you... my close friends... even my art. But I wouldn’t turn my back on Mom and Dad. They didn’t turn their backs on me. I’d never do that to them.

  “I really hope I never have to make that choice, though.”

  “That may be what he’s asking for,” Matty says cautiously. I frown, having realized this fact earlier in the night. I just want to continue to ignore the possibility.

  “I really hope he would never make me choose. Surely he wouldn’t,” I half-mumble, remembering the fight he’d
had with my father. He knows I hate ultimatums. Surely he wouldn’t.

  “Me, too, Little Liv.” He comes back in and gives me a hug, kissing my cheek as he embraces me. “But I know you’d make the right choice, if he did. And you’d be just fine. Better than fine, even.”

  “Thanks, Matty.” I try to call Jon, against my uncle’s suggestion, but as I suspected, he doesn’t answer. Feeling helpless, I try to sleep.

  I don’t feel as if any time has passed when my dad comes into my room the next morning.

  “Livvy?” he whispers.

  “Yeah, Dad?” I come out of my sleep easily and sit up in bed, flicking on the lamp on the night stand. My clock shows it’s five-thirty.

  “I’m sorry to wake you before your alarm, but I wanted to talk to you before school.”

  “No, it’s fine. You okay?” I ask him cautiously. “When did you get home?”

  “I just walked in,” he says. “I haven’t even seen your mom yet. How are you?”

  “Tired,” I tell him with a slight chuckle. “I didn’t sleep too well.”

  “Did you talk to Jon last night?” I shake my head, and notice how quickly his eyes leave mine.

  “What happened?”

  “Livvy, I’m just not sure that Jon can accept this,” he says simply. “He asked me to stay out of his family business...” He looks up at me to continue. “I told him that as long as you were a part of his life, that I’d be around, too. I’m sorry, Livvy, but I can’t turn my back on–”

  “Dad,” I stop him. “Don’t apologize. I won’t apologize.” A sad realization takes hold of me, but I straighten my posture and steel my resolve. “Is he breaking up with me?”

  “I don’t know, Liv,” he says, but once more, he looks away. “I almost think a little break might be just what you need.”

  “Dad, no!” I exclaim. “If I’d known you felt like that, I’d never let you ‘handle it’ last night. I don’t want that,” I cry. “He’s not the reason why I’ve stopped painting, Dad. He’s not.”

  “Then what is it?” he asks.

  “Granna, Dad. It’s Granna,” I say, choked up. “I was doing her portrait before we left for Lexi’s wedding. I was just starting it when she–” The tears take over, and I can’t talk anymore.

  “Tessa, shhh,” he says, hugging me and trying to comfort me.

  “I... can’t... finish... it,” I say between sobs. “And I can’t start anything else,” I say in one breath, continuing my outburst.

  “Livvy,” he says softly, stroking my hair. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I wanted to be able to do it, Dad. I’ve never not finished one. She wouldn’t want me to leave it unfinished, you know that.”

  “Sweetie, I think even she would forgive this one.”

  “I don’t think so. So many times she encouraged me to work through things, even when I told her I couldn’t.”

  “Of course she would... she never wanted you to stop painting entirely, Liv. And if this portrait is looming over your head, stopping you from pursuing your dreams, trust me, she’d want you to set it aside and move on. You said it yourself, you’re not a machine. You’re a young lady with feelings, with a lot of sadness for what you lost. It’s okay to mourn her. But it’s not okay to quit being who you are simply because you can’t finish a painting. She’d forgive this one,” he repeats. “And you can come back to it later. That way, it’s just on hold, and not unfinished.”

  “I can’t face it,” I whisper softly.

  “Okay,” he says, pulling me into him once more. “Okay.”

  I hold on to him tightly, breathing him in. Normally, a light scent of aftershave mingles with his freshly-laundered shirts, but not this morning. “You need a shower, Dad.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” he laughs, letting me go. “How are you feeling about the showing tonight?”

  “I’ll be fine, even if Jon doesn’t show up. I’ve got it all under control,” I tell him, happy to be thinking of something else.

  “I still don’t like that Abram’s set up a private client meeting.”

  “Dad, it’s fine. I’ll be professional.”

  “I’m not worried about that. It’s just... you’re supposed to be out having fun, not conducting business meetings.”

  “I think it’s safe to say I probably wouldn’t be out having a lot of fun today anyway, all things considered.”

  “I hate that, too,” he admits. “I hope I haven’t made things worse.”

  “Daddy,” I say to him, holding his hand in mine. “I know you’re upset with him, but I don’t believe for a second you’d sabotage our relationship.”

  He shakes his head. “I know you love him. I tried to keep that in the forefront of my mind last night when we talked. I’m just not used to walking away, feeling as if I didn’t make a difference. That’s how I felt last night. The boy has a mind of his own.”

  “That’s typically a quality you like, Dad,” I remind him. “And if he can’t accept this–if he can’t accept me–and...” I swallow the lump in my throat. “And that would suck,” I add, not willing to be dismissive about the reality of what could happen.

  “It would,” he says. “Do you need anything from us for tonight? I can try to make it home earlier, if you don’t want to go alone.”

  “No, it’s fine, Dad. And I already told Mom that I might have to go by the loft to pick up a painting before the meeting. I told her she could call Francisco and warn him that I’m coming,” I laugh. “But I promise, I’ll just get in and get out.”

  “And then come home right after the meeting, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Are you going to nap before your road trip?” I ask him, taking a tissue he hands me and wiping my eyes and nose.

  “No, the meetings upstate start in three hours,” he says, “so I’m going to take your advice and shower before I need to hit the road. But I’ll have my phone with me all day. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I hope he’s come to his senses,” he says as he leaves my bedroom and heads upstairs to his. I gather from his tone that he doesn’t have a whole lot of hope. Lying back down, I grab my phone and send Jon a text message.

  “Are you okay?” Instead of waiting around for an answer, I head to the bathroom across the basement and take a shower myself.

  The phone display is still bright when I walk back into my room. “We need to talk.”

  “I know we do,” I respond to him, feeling dread. “Are you coming to the meeting with Abram tonight?”

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he texts back. My stomach ties itself in knots, fearing Jon’s response to what happened last night. “Maybe after?”

  “I have to come home right after it. I’m making a stop at the loft before the appointment and I have to take the key home to Mom and Dad immediately after. Trust issues, you know?”

  “I’ll just call you later,” he says simply. My eyes start to water in frustration.

  “Jon, seriously?”

  “I’m already late to class.”

  “Don’t make me wait all day. If you have something to say, just do it now.” I stare at the phone, waiting. The tears start dripping again from my eyes, one every few seconds, but I wait at least five minutes before breaking down at his lack of a response. I shove my phone in my purse, realizing I’m going to be late for school, too, if I keep focusing on what he’s not saying.

  After putting on my uniform, I pull out the short, black dress I’d been considering the night before for my meeting with Abram. I’d thought about wearing some simple nude heels, but I decide on my knee-high black boots instead. If Jon happens to show up, I want him to know what he’s walking away from. I refrain from putting on my makeup, realizing I’m not finished crying yet... but I bring my cosmetics bag with the intention of wearing just enough makeup tonight to drive him crazy.

  Just in case.

  “Livvy, you haven’t said a word to me al
l day,” Camille says as she follows me into the ladies room after school. I shut myself in a stall with my dress in hand and start to undress quickly.

  “We had a fight,” I tell her, not wanting to get upset again. I hadn’t cried since third period, and the overwhelming emotion I was feeling now was anger. I’m just mad at him, that he’d let this get in the way of how he feels about me. I know he loves me.

  “I assumed that,” she says. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “It’s stupid.” After throwing my school uniform in my duffel and putting on my boots, I kick the bag out from under the door. “Can you zip me up?” I ask her.

  She raises her eyebrows when she sees my dress. “That’s, um... short, Liv,” my best friend says as she secures the dress with the zipper. “Are you going to go up to Columbia to see him?”

  “No, I have a meeting with Abram in an hour.”

  “Oh, that’s right. So who are you dressing for then?”

  “I’m hoping Jon will show up,” I explain, pulling out my makeup bag and applying a fresh coat of powder and blush. “Can you do that smoky thing with my eyes?”

  “Of course!” Camille drops her purse on the counter and sifts through my bag for the charcoal liner. “Close your eyes.”

  “He found out Dad paid for his mom’s rehab... and she quit the program and got trashed the other day.”

  “So he’s mad at... who, exactly?”

  “The world,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

  “Eyes closed,” she reminds me.

  “Sorry. He was pissed at his mom first, then me, then my parents... My dad tried to talk to him last night, and I don’t know the details, but it didn’t go well. I really think he’s going to break up. He sent me a message this morning, saying we need to talk.”