Mimi unlocked the front door, it groaned as they passed through. The welcome mat had faded, as had the red paint on the door.
The two of them set their backpacks down on the floor. Nick walked inside first. He looked around making sure there weren’t any strange bugs or reptiles that might have found their way inside from the beach. He could feel his sister smiling as she watched him explore every corner of the first floor.
“Dad has a cleaning service come in once a week. And there’s a maintenance guy who checks everything every month,” she called out.
Nick made his way out of the kitchen. The house looked bigger than it had last time, maybe it was the lack of crowding relatives. It was strange how death could gather so many people. He was used to his regular bombardments of family on holidays, but the ceremony for his mom had been something else altogether.
“What do you want to order?” he asked.
Mimi popped her head into the kitchen. She had the house phone to her ear. Their dad hadn’t bought her a cell phone yet, something about her being too young.
“I’m getting take out from China Palace,” she said. Her expression changed as the person on the other line picked up. She held a finger out to Nick. “Yes. Hello. I’d like to have three orders of…”
She disappeared before he could hear the rest of the order. It was fitting for the occasion. China Palace was their mom’s guilty pleasure. Whenever their dad had to work an extra shift or if he was away on business, she’d bring Nick and Mimi out to the beach house for the night. The owner allowed her to rent it out on certain afternoons. There were never any groceries so she would order takeout every time. On her birthdays though, it was always China Palace.
Mimi walked back into the kitchen. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
“They’ve gotten faster,” Nick said. He began to search the cupboards for plates.
His sister stepped up behind him and closed the cupboard. "What are you doing?"
“I want to set the table.”
She shook her head. “That’s not tradition. Mom would always let us eat right out of the boxes.”
Nick thought back. His sister was right, and it bothered him. He was the older one. It was his job to remember the little details.
“Right. So I guess you want to set out the picnic blanket?”
Mimi nodded. She ran out of the kitchen before answering. Her footsteps echoed through the house. She came back with an unfamiliar plaid blanket and a look of disappointment.
“It’s gone,” she said, holding out the foreign object.
“What is?” Nick asked.
“Mom’s blanket. The one Abuela gave her when you were born. It’s gone.”
“Maybe the cleaning service moved it. That one looks just as nice.”
Mimi shook her head, over and over again. She threw the blanket on the floor. “It’s not the same, Nick.” Her voice cracked. “None of this will ever be the same.”
He ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The last thing he wanted was for his sister to cry. He hadn’t seen her cry in months. He’d thought her therapy sessions were working. They couldn’t regress. It was his job to be the stronger one.
“Hey. It’ll be fine. We’ll find the blanket later. That’s not what makes this a tradition. Don’t be sad, okay? You can’t get upset on mom’s birthday.”
He playfully tossed around his sister’s hair until it resembled a nest. She didn’t say anything. The two of them stood together, huddled, away from everything else.
The doorbell rang right as Mimi pulled away. Nick's blazer was wet on the spot where her face had rested. He caught her wiping away one last tear.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
He didn't hold her back. Instead he followed her to the front door and paid for the delivery. The man gave them a smile. He handed Nick an extra box.
Nick tilted his head. “What is this for?”
“Your mom’s birthday,” the man said. “Free cake for our loyal customer.”
Mimi grabbed the other part of the order and ran back into the kitchen. Nick didn’t feel like correcting the man’s mistake. He gave him a quick thank you and took the bag, not sure how someone who hadn’t placed an order in months could be considered loyal.
He made his way back to the kitchen too, only to find his sister was gone. The back sliding doors were open, letting in the smell of sand and seawater.
Nick followed the trail of small footprints in the sand. Mimi sat a few yards from the house. The blanket was laid out, and she was in the process of spreading out the boxes of food. He ran up to her, placing the cake on the plaid blanket.
“You’re quick,” he said.
Mimi handed him a white carton of rice and chopsticks. She placed a carton on her lap and another in between them.
“Milagros…”
“Don’t call me that, Nicolas.”
“It’s your name.” Their mom had named her Miracles, after nine months of an exhausting pregnancy. Mimi was the tiny miracle that should have never made it.
“Are we going to eat or not?” she asked.
Nick nodded. He noticed now his sister had placed three orders.
“I thought Dad wasn’t coming.”
“He’s not. That’s for mom.”
“Mimi… “
His sister sat up. “I’m not crazy. I know mom’s dead. Abuela said they do this in Mexico. It’s normal to bring food to your relatives.”
“On the Day of the Dead,” Nick said.
“Well, we can bend the rules. This isn't Mexico.”
He knew it was pointless to argue. Instead, he took a moment to set up the cake. The bag had candles inside. How loyal of a customer had his mom been? The cake was identical to the one they had used every year, except now it had a thirty-nine on top.
The two of them ate in silence. Nick waited for Mimi to finish. He kept his eyes on the waves in the distance. The moon was almost full, overhead. There were a few teens playing volleyball nearby.
“Whatever happened to that girl?” Mimi asked out of nowhere.
He brought his attention back to his sister. “What girl?”
“Olive, from the airport.”
Nick let the memory of the strange day return. A cool breeze slapped his cheek.
“You mean Olivia. And I don’t know. What made you bring her up?”
Mimi put her empty carton back into the bag. She pointed her finger out to the spot behind Nick’s head.
“Isn’t that her?”
He whipped his head around; faster than he had thought was possible. He blinked a few times, trying to focus his gaze. It really was her.
She hadn’t changed. Her brown hair was still long, and she wore the same jeans she’d been wearing at the airport. He felt himself standing. The keychain felt like it was burning a hole through his pocket.
Nick stopped as he got a closer look of the scene. There was a boy holding her hand. He wore an Irvin uniform. It was his opponent from the debate.
The boy leaned over and whispered something into Olivia’s ear, making her laugh. Nick plopped himself back on the picnic blanket.
“Was it her?” Mimi asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. It was.”
6
June 3, 2006
“I’m melting,” Olivia screamed out. She fell to her knees as one of the members of the stage crew brought out the smoke machine. “I’m melting.”
She squatted down behind the cardboard cutout meant to be a random wall in the scene. The trap door on the stage gave in under her knees, and she fell to a fake death.
“Don’t get makeup on your costume,” Laurel called out. She ran out to help Olivia up from the air mattress they had set out to catch her.
Olivia fought the urge to pick at her makeup. It was during her first performance that she’d learned the faux green skin stained fabric. She brought herself to her feet, regaining her balance.
“How’d I do?” she asked.
Laurel whispered something into a walkie-talkie, some lighting direction.
“You were absolutely wicked, just as the witch of the west should be. You fell with more grace than last time too.”
Olivia shrugged. She still had the bruise on her knee, from the first performance. The air mattress had been placed too far right and no one had warned her.
“We still have five minutes till curtain call, right?”
Laurel nodded. “I’m guessing you’re going to pay a visit to our director?”
Olivia bit her lip, holding back her smile. “Maybe.”
She lifted the skirt of her costume and climbed the few steps up to the backstage area. Laurel waved her off as she called out commands to someone on her walkie-talkie.
The backstage area was packed with moving bodies. Members of the lollipop guild passed by, as did the good witch and the wizard himself. Olivia fanned herself as she made her way to the director.
Michael was leaning over a podium, with his own walkie-talkie, watching his masterpiece come to life. His black curls stuck up in the direction of the static producing stage lights.
“So?” she said, approaching him from behind. “Keeping busy?”
He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned in to kiss her cheek but stopped.
“I don’t want green lips. It took me the better part of four hours to scrub off the makeup from last night,” he said. He pulled back from the embrace.
Olivia smirked. “I’m your girlfriend. You should accept me if I’m green or human colored.” She could feel the fabric of her costume sticking to her back. The stage only got warmer by the minute.
“I’m sorry you have to spend your birthday dressed as an ugly witch. You should have tried out for Dorothy.”
She nudged his side. “I did. But the director thought I would fit the role of the wicked witch.”
Michael was smiling again. “Sounds like a jerk.”
Olivia shrugged. “He’s cute. A little demanding during rehearsals, but cute.”
A command spat out of his walkie-talkie. He turned his gaze back up to her. “Curtain call. Go and take your bow.”
She nodded, already following a few munchkins to the stage. “I’ll meet you after. Don’t forget about our dinner date.”
Michael was lost to his director duties before he could answer. Olivia took her place on the stage as the curtains pulled back to reveal the auditorium. The applause made her feel whole again. She waited for the supporting cast to take in the praise. Dorothy followed and then the Good Witch; they both curtsied their way down the stage, then turned and left a space for her.
Olivia picked the skirt of her costume and brought her right hand up to her witch’s hat. She removed it and gave a deep bow, a part of her didn’t think villains curtsied. The audience’s clapping grew louder. She let herself bask in it, scanning the crowd, gracious to all the strangers. Then her eyes landed on the last two people she wanted to see. Jocelyn gave her a nod. Olivia’s dad stood right next to her, grabbing his girlfriend by the waist.
Olivia stood up from her bow and took the spot next to Dorothy. Whatever enjoyment she’d felt vanished. Thankfully the curtains closed, blocking her view of them.
All the actors began to scurry in various directions. She felt her way around the darkness back into the dressing room. Then spent the next half hour removing green makeup from her cheeks. Her face was red and irritated by the time she went to meet Michael in the front of the auditorium.
Jocelyn had already lured him into her web. He stood near the doors with a huge smile on his face. Olivia watched as her dad patted her boyfriend on the shoulder. She winced. Maybe she could wait for Michael to find her.
Her dad gazed up. He immediately waved her over. She hesitated for a moment but made her way over to them.
“You were wonderful Liv,” he said, before throwing a bouquet of flowers into her arms.
Jocelyn took a step back, letting Olivia stand next to her dad.
The flowers were beautiful, white roses, wrapped together by a green bow.
“Thanks,” Olivia said. Michael took the flowers from her, handing her the sweater she’d left in his director’s chair.
“Oh and happy birthday sweetheart. Jocelyn already made reservations for the three of us at your favorite cafe.”
“La Petite,” Michael said at the same time Jocelyn did.
“I’m having my birthday dinner with Michael,” Olivia said. She threw on the sweater. “I thought you were working tonight.”
“Something more important came up,” her dad said. For a moment, she almost believed that the something might be about her, but from Jocelyn's presence she knew it wasn't.
“Well, I have dinner plans with Michael. You two can use the reservation Jocelyn made.”
Olivia didn’t know why she seemed to lose any sense of maturity when she was around her dad. It was like whenever she saw him she wanted a reason to be angry. Sometimes just looking at him was enough to make her feel unnerved. The fact he had primary custody of her didn’t make it any better.
Michael came up behind her and took her hand into his own. His skin felt warm against hers, but it brought no comfort.
“Olivia we should just have dinner with them. I mean we’re going to the same place.”
She brought her gaze to him, hoping that her eyes might quiet his suggestions, but her boyfriend wasn’t quite finished.
“I can drive Olivia there, sir. We can be there in fifteen minutes.”
Her dad gave Michael a quick nod. He placed an arm around his own girlfriend.
“That sounds like a good compromise. We’ll see you there, then.”
Olivia watched her dad walk away, hand in hand with the woman who tore their family apart. She turned, snatched the flowers out of Michael’s hands and walked straight to the trashcan. He followed behind.
The roses crumpled under the small opening and seeing them destroyed brought her no satisfaction.
"What are you doing? Those were probably expensive," Michael said. He tried to salvage a few of the roses from the trash. In the process, a few people stopped to assess the situation.
“I don’t care what he paid for them,” Olivia grabbed the roses and threw them back into the trash.
Michael grabbed her arm, making her stop mid toss. “You’re making a scene for no reason. Let’s just go and get the dinner over with.”
She snatched her arm out of his grasp and tossed the bouquet out for a second time. He didn’t try to retrieve them. Her dad’s missing presence calmed her.
“Fine. Let’s just go,” Olivia said. She walked ahead of Michael. Neither one of them said anything on the short car ride to Glensford’s historic district. La Petite was already starting to crowd when they arrived.
“They're over there,” Michael pointed out as soon as they walked through the doors. Jocelyn waved them over but stopped when she saw Olivia.
The two of them took their seats in silence. She realized she still had on the black nail polish from her wicked witch ensemble. A waitress took their orders, and silence loomed as they waited.
“You did a great job directing the play, Michael. Your hard work really showed,” her dad said.
“Thank you, sir. It means a lot,” Michael said. He took a sip of his water. There was another bout of silence.
“How has your birthday been so far?” Jocelyn asked. She let her brown eyes rest on Olivia.
Olivia tilted her head, trying her best not to scoff at the question. “Better than my fourteenth birthday.”
"Olivia. Not now," her dad said. He whispered the command as if that would make it more effective. It didn't. In fact, it only made her want to continue.
“Why? I’m sure most parents forget their daughter’s birthdays once in a while.”
“We didn’t come here to argue Liv,” Jocelyn said.
“Don’t call me that,” Olivia said. “Don’t ever think you can call me that.”
“Olivia, p
lease,” Michael said. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.
The waitress brought over their orders. The food provided only a temporary moment of reprieve. She wished her mom could be with her, but she’d have to wait until tomorrow.
Olivia took a few bites of her pasta and set her fork down. Some topic loomed in the background.
“What’s the real reason for this dinner, dad? You’re not the type to waste your time on birthdays. So what is it?”
Her dad bit his lip, holding in whatever it was that he truly wanted to say.
“It’s your birthday, and you’re my daughter. I’m not wasting my time…”
“Just tell me whatever it is you need to say.”
Jocelyn's hands were shaky as she tried to eat. Olivia's dad took his girlfriend's hand and sighed.
“We have news,” he said in a monotone voice.
“News. How lovely,” Olivia said. Michael was trying to turn himself away from the conversation, focusing too much energy on cutting his chicken.
“I don’t need sarcasm Olivia,” her dad said. He paused and tightened his grip on Jocelyn’s hand. “We’re engaged.”
The words slipped Olivia into silence. Every sound and sight turned into part of the backdrop for the image of her dad and his mistress. She knew it was inevitable, but hearing the words was a different experience.
“What?” she asked.
“We’re engaged Liv,” Jocelyn said. Then she paused and turned to her fiancé, “We’re also expecting. I’m four weeks along.”
Olivia stared at the white tablecloth. She couldn't use sarcasm or some witty come back to hide anything at that moment. Her heart was breaking and the tears were already welling up in her eyes. She slid her chair back and walked out of the restaurant.
She didn’t want to cry in front of them, not on her birthday. Somehow she found a back door that led out to a darkened alleyway.
Michael followed right behind her. He took a step forward, blocking her path.
“Olivia what was that?”
Delayed Page 4