The Impossible Story of Olive In Love

by Tonya Alexandra

  ‘How long did we live with her, do you think?’

  Rose doesn’t like to talk about our old life. She shrugs and moves back to her coffee. ‘A couple of years.’

  ‘I don’t remember much about her. Just that scary black bird she had in the cage and how she smelled weird and made us eat rocks.’

  ‘Stone soup.’ Rose laughs. ‘It was delicious.’

  I still don’t understand what happened between my parents. I wasn’t old enough to understand it at the time and Dad and Rose won’t talk about it. I’ve never seen Rose so willing to discuss Nan, so I push my luck. ‘Why did we live with Nan instead of Dad?’

  Rose takes a sip of her coffee and stares vacantly at the floor. ‘We moved there when you were two. Ma said she’d had enough of him.’

  ‘You don’t believe it though.’

  Rose shakes her head. ‘I think she was pretending she didn’t love him anymore, so he would move on.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ I say. And it does. Ma wouldn’t have wanted Dad to suffer, even if it meant breaking us apart.

  Rose slams her cup down. ‘It was stupid! Of course he wouldn’t accept she didn’t love him. He’d never have given up on her and just walked away and left us.’

  And yet he did walk away, I want to say, just twelve years later, leaving us without a mother to watch over us. But Rose doesn’t want to hear it. She’s still upset about their happy little threesome being destroyed by invisible baby me.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It happened.’ She looks at me. ‘It’s not your fault she died. You were only three. You didn’t know any better.’

  We weren’t talking about that! I want to yell. I want to know about our life in New York apart from my Ma’s death, apart from it all not being my fault. But it always comes back to this. Rose saying ‘it’s not your fault’ as if she’s trying to convince herself. As if she’s trying to remind herself of her obligation to me.

  ‘I know it’s not my fault,’ I snap. But the truth is, it is.

  I retreat to my room to text Tom. Thank god I found him, he’s my knight in shining sanity.

  Olive:

  Found your drawing. Best. Present. Ever.

  Tom:

  Told you you’re beautiful

  Olive:

  Do I really have freckles? Yuk.

  Tom:

  Yum

  Olive:

  Thomas Adonis you rock my world.

  Tom:

  Ditto baby

  Tom:

  Can I take you someplace magic?

  Olive:

  Yes please!

  CHAPTER

  12

  We’re at a deserted beach up north, Tom’s side of town. We’ve hiked forty minutes through soaring angophoras and gnarled scribbly gums, dry leaves crackling underfoot, the sky heavenly broad and blue.

  I’m mimicking a lizard, sunning myself across a great tablet of rock, the sun stinging the backs of my knees as I watch Tom in the water, floating. His eyes rarely leave mine unless he pauses to dip under the clear dark sea. This place is magic.

  Tom doesn’t seem to be able to stay out of the water long. His swimming trunks stay waterlogged as the hours pass, mine are bone dry after my one and only dip.

  I watch him emerge. Long determined strides and white grin. Damn him. He’s going to throw me in again.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I squawk. ‘Thomas Adonis, I mean it.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it?’ He is at the base of the rock, wriggling his fingers at me, his expression wicked glee, when he stops and turns to look over his shoulder.

  I heard it too—people.

  ‘Bugger,’ Tom mutters under his breath. I smirk at the word. He is so Australian.

  Two girls and guys wander out into the sun carrying umbrellas, chairs, food. It won’t be a short visit.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It looks like a double date—they won’t bother with us.’

  ‘It’s not that.’ Tom exhales as he runs his fingers back through his hair.

  ‘What then?’ I sit up, getting a clear view of the intruders.

  ‘Tom?’ One of the girls is squinting in our direction. ‘Tom!’ she squeals as she runs at us.

  Of course he knows her. Who doesn’t he know?

  Tom mumbles, ‘It’s my ex, Tamara. Don’t be upset.’

  His ex again. Oh god. Should I mention I already know her?

  He turns to her, his hands turned up in surprise. ‘Tam. Good to see you.’

  I remember him saying the exact same words to me when I saw him at Newwater Beach. Fortunately the enthusiasm is missing from his tone today.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here—at our spot!’ Silver bangles clank at her brown wrists as she slings her arms around his neck.

  I reel. Our spot?

  ‘And all alone?’ She glances at the food, the towels, the two glasses. ‘Maybe not.’ Her face falls.

  Tom pulls her arms off him and I slide down from my spot to hide my sandals behind the rock. ‘No, I’m alone,’ he says.

  ‘Just waiting for me then?’ She is pretending to joke but I can tell she wants it to be true.

  Tom ignores the comment and nods toward her friends. ‘You didn’t come alone.’

  ‘No.’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘Jax and Dehlia and Mason.’

  ‘Mason eh?’ Tom raises his eyebrows.

  ‘It’s not serious.’ She shrugs it away. ‘Not like us.’

  Tom starts coughing into his fist, knowing I’m going to lose it. He’s right, I’m close to flicking a towel at her stupid face.

  ‘Tommy, did you hear? Chrissie and Ev got engaged!’

  Tommy—of course she’d call him that. Like he’s three years old. I bet she is into baby talk too.

  ‘Already? Unbelievable,’ Tom replies.

  She gives him a dirty look, thrusts her hip out impatiently. ‘They’ve been together two whole years!’

  Two years? What century does this girl come from?

  ‘They’re kind of young though,’ Tom says.

  She chooses to ignore that. ‘We’ve got to get them something good.’

  ‘Huh?’ He looks confused.

  ‘For the engagement party!’ Oh no, now she’s started daydreaming. ‘Imagine all the awesome stuff you get when you get married—first for the engagement party, then the bridal registry. How much fun would it be shopping for that!’

  ‘For you maybe.’ Tom laughs.

  ‘But think how practical it is. I know they’re young but it’s so smart. They’re getting everything they need for their new home before they move in together.’

  Tom glances over his shoulder at me and rolls his eyes. I have to stuff my fist in my mouth to stop my laughter.

  ‘Not like those couples who have everything because they’ve been living together for years,’ she continues.

  ‘Right,’ Tom says, tight-lipped. I’m actually beginning to feel sorry for this girl. She’s got no idea.

  Suddenly she scowls at him. ‘Not that we’d ever have that problem.’

  Tom folds his arms across his chest. ‘No. We wouldn’t because we broke up months ago.’

  ‘It was seven weeks actually, Tom. And considering we were together for over two years I’m upset you don’t know that.’ She flips her hair. ‘Anyway, I didn’t mean that, I meant with you living with your mum.’

  ‘Oh give it a rest, Tam. It’s not something you need to worry about anymore.’

  Tamara gasps and holds her hand to her chest like he’s slapped her, then seems to change her mind. ‘But it could be,’ she says, leaning into him and letting her hand drop against his bare chest. ‘I still know what you like.’

  A raw guttural growl escapes my lips. I want to leap on her and scratch out her eyes. This girl has got some nerve! But Tom is peeling her off him and trying not to laugh as she gapes in my direction, startled by the sound I made.

  ‘I heard something earlier,’ he tells her. ‘Fierce little thing. Wild animal of some
sort.’

  She is backing away, her eyes wide. I growl again for good measure. ‘Tommy, it sounds dangerous. Come and sit with us.’

  ‘Nah. I’m good.’

  Tamara’s party have decided to follow her over, including a blond guy who doesn’t look happy about Tom being here. A pale girl and dark-haired guy, their faces hidden by enormous sunglasses, follow in his wake. Tom knows them.

  ‘Mason. Hi.’ He nods. ‘Jax. Dehlia.’

  Mason doesn’t bother with formalities. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Nothing much. Lunch. Swim.’

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘Nobody.’

  ‘Looks like a pretty romantic lunch to be having on your own,’ Mason scoffs.

  Tom shrugs. ‘I like to treat myself.’

  Mason laughs. ‘Yeah, well you look like a bit of a crackpot to be honest mate.’

  Tom doesn’t reply. Good for him. This Mason guy thinks he’s hot, you can tell by the way he’s parading around with his waxed chest stuck out, looking like a plucked rooster.

  ‘Don’t you think, Jax?’ Mason looks over his shoulder. ‘Looks like a fag with all that stuff. This isn’t a gay beach is it? You’re not waiting for some homo to turn up are you?’

  ‘Good one.’ Tom’s smile is sarcastic.

  ‘Because you’re obviously not here for Tamara.’ It’s a warning but Tom doesn’t look afraid, he looks disinterested in the whole palaver. I couldn’t be more proud.

  ‘No mate,’ he says. ‘Just enjoying the sunshine.’

  Mason puts his arm around Tamara’s shoulders. ‘Yeah, well, we’ll leave you to it,’ he says, leading them away. ‘What a freak,’ he mutters to the others under his breath. Tamara, the betraying wench, laughs along.

  I can’t help exploding with disgust as soon as they’re out of earshot. ‘What vile people. Especially that Mason. Did you see those elephantine teeth? Hideous.’

  Tom clambers up the rock to me, strokes the hair back off my face and kisses my cheek.

  ‘And trying to insult you by calling you gay. As if that’s an insult! What a tool. As for her—I can’t believe you went out with that mindless twit for two years!’

  ‘Be nice,’ he says, lying down and resting his head in my lap.

  ‘Why did you break up?’

  ‘It’s pretty obvious isn’t it?’

  ‘She wanted you all settled down.’

  ‘Something like that,’ he says, watching them set up camp at the other end of the beach.

  ‘How suburban!’

  Tamara has whipped off her dress and is parading around in a tiny white bikini. ‘She has her good points.’

  I slap him. ‘Yeah, I can see that.’

  He rolls back toward me. ‘But nothing like you …’ He nuzzles his nose into my stomach, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  ‘If you consider this the right time to be trying on your special sauce, you’re mistaken bucko. You still have some explaining to do. Your spot?’ Tom exhales loudly into my cheesecloth kaftan. Did he think I’d forget it? ‘You thought you should take me to the spot where you used to hang out with your ex-wife?’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ he says lazily.

  ‘No, really,’ I grumble. ‘I feel horrid now. Dirty.’ I pull my feet up onto the towel. ‘You probably made out with her on this very rock.’

  Tom isn’t listening. He’s all caught up in some psychobabble going on in his head. He’s been hurt by that fool’s fool words. I feel my body inflate with a weird protective tenderness.

  I sweep my finger around his ear. The folds of his inferior and superior crus of antihelix collect sand like you wouldn’t believe. ‘Don’t worry about that Mason guy, he’s an ass.’

  ‘Mhm.’

  ‘I can make a poppet of him? Stick him with a thousand pins?’

  ‘You read that witch book,’ he mumbles into my stomach.

  My eyes light with excitement. ‘I did! It was brilliant. I so would have been branded a witch if I lived in those days.’

  He laughs. I really want to keep talking about witches but it’s obvious he’s distracted. I sigh and ask, ‘Did you know the others? Well?’

  He turns to look up at me. ‘We were at school together. Jax is a friend. I suppose.’

  ‘Some friend.’

  ‘Well it doesn’t matter anymore,’ he says. ‘They’re not my life now, you are, my wicked witch.’ He smiles but I can see the sadness he’s trying to hide. I know it well. Rose gives me that smile all the time. Tom is starting to feel the repercussions of my invisibility. The isolation. He can’t introduce me to his friends so he’s hardly seeing them. It’s causing problems. I bend over and kiss the downy part of his forehead at his hairline. I don’t want him to regret choosing me.

  The wicked witch thing has given me an idea. I lift his head gently from my lap, place it on the towel and slip off the rock.

  Tom gets shifty behind me. ‘Olive, what are you …’

  I turn around and give him a cornball wink, holding my finger to my lips. He needs to keep quiet.

  I wade through the shallow water toward Tamara and co. so they can’t see my footprints. The first thing I do is pull the stays from their deck chairs. Mason is sitting in one so when I pull it out he falls flat on his back, his legs flapping in the air like a stranded beetle. It’s too funny. Tamara rushes to his aid, insisting he take her chair which, of course, I collapse under his bony ass again.

  The chairs are history so I start on the umbrella. It’s firmly sunk into the sand and the pale girl Dehlia is shading herself underneath it. I shake it a little, as if it is caught by the wind, then start rocking it to and fro, my movements increasingly wild until I jerk it completely free of the sand and fling it into the sea. It lands upside down like a boat and skims off over the surface.

  Mason curses and, jumping to his feet, he dives in after it.

  I toss his shoes, towel, Tamara’s dress and the pale girl’s hat into the water after him. (She is annoying me too—so sun sensible.) They’re all on their feet now, wondering what the hell is going on. Blaming each other, blaming the wind, bumbling around causing more mess.

  It’s chaos. They are making so much fuss and noise I can chuckle unhindered as I pick up a bottle of soft drink and empty it over Mason’s clothes. Their containers of chicken and potato salad are open so I kick sand over them, rendering them inedible. I squeeze sun cream into a dog turd shape on one of the broken deck chairs and write in the sand in bold capital letters—MASON IS A WANKER.

  Then I leave.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ I hear Mason screaming. He is pointing at the sand, the broken umbrella hanging over his shoulder like a bunch of snapped twigs.

  At the other end of the beach Tom is in stitches, holding his stomach as I pad toward him. ‘See?’ I gloat. ‘There are some advantages to having an invisible girlfriend.’

  CHAPTER

  13

  After Tom drops me home I hear a knock on our front door. Rose isn’t home so I put my eye to the peep hole hoping Tom has come back just to kiss me.

  Damn, it’s Felix. I tiptoe back a step.

  ‘I can hear you, Olive,’ he calls. He taps his cane against the door. ‘I spoke to Rose. She said I could come over.’

  He spoke to Rose? Hell. I’d been trying to avoid them meeting. I didn’t want my worlds to collide. Or maybe I just wanted Felix to myself. I bet he loved Rose. Everyone loves Rose.

  ‘Let me in. I’m not going to stop hammering until you do.’ He hits the cane against the door again; sharp, insistent little beats which make me want to break something.

  ‘I am Rose,’ I say in a fake high-pitched voice. ‘Olive is out—you should leave.’

  ‘I spoke to her for a while, Olive. Long enough to know she would never be that rude. Long enough to … Look, I owe you an apology.’

  I sigh with resignation and pull open the door. ‘So you believe me now?’

  ‘Yes. Rose confirmed it.’ He reaches out to touch me but I s
tep away from him. He sighs, drops his arm. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t before. You’re right, I should have trusted you. But you’ve got to understand how impossible it sounds. Plus you do tend to exaggerate things.’

  He thought I made it up? Unbelievable. ‘How did you track Rose down?’

  ‘It’s one of the wonders of the internet, didn’t you know?’

  ‘Stupid twenty-first century,’ I grumble.

  ‘So can I come in?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What a gracious host,’ Felix says, pushing past me. I watch him deftly tap his way to the couch. He’s only been here a handful of times but somehow he remembers his way around. He settles back against the pillows and grins at me. ‘Are you going to offer me a drink?’

  ‘No, I don’t want you here. Can’t you take a hint? You’re supposed to be smart.’

  ‘Hint? Well that’s malapropism if I ever heard it—you’re being downright rude.’ He kicks off his shoes. ‘When you don’t answer my calls I have no choice but to come over and force myself on you. It’s called friendship, my solitary chum.’

  I grunt at him.

  ‘I promise the rest of my visit will consist of nothing too taxing, a little chit-chat, perhaps a cup of tea?’

  No talk of invisibility?

  ‘Argh,’ I respond, walking to the kitchen.

  ‘Is boiling the kettle too much?’

  ‘I’ll get you water.’

  I slap the glass down in front of him, cruelly out of reach.

  ‘You’re still angry with me?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ If he understands my comment is sarcastic he chooses to ignore it.

  ‘Not picking up my calls?’

  ‘Who calls these days?’

  ‘Blind people.’

  ‘Yeah well don’t you have like Braille text messaging or something?’

  ‘You know I can text with the apps on my iPhone, but speaking’s easier … Oh forget it. Make sure I never introduce you to my blind friends.’

  ‘One blind friend is enough. Believe me.’ I snort.

  He smiles. ‘So we are still friends.’