The Impossible Story of Olive In Love

by Tonya Alexandra

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked, scrambling over the back fence into her yard.

  ‘They say you’re not real.’

  I’d been waiting for this. I’d been listening to conversations between her parents and I’d repeated them to Rose, trying to understand why her parents would want to do something as horrible as split us up. Jordan and I were happy. More than happy. I still look back and wonder if I’ve ever been happier. Rose warned me it was coming. That her parents would start to deny my existence. ‘People don’t like what they don’t understand,’ she had told me.

  I didn’t believe Rose. Mr and Mrs Withadrew had been lovely to me for years. I was the imaginary friend welcome everywhere with them. I guess on some level I knew being ‘imaginary’ was not ideal, but it was the only thing I knew, and it was wonderful, so I cherished it.

  It was with the Withadrews that I went Halloweening and to see the Christmas lights. It was at the Withadrews’ I learnt about classical music and saw my first National Geographic magazine. Their house was my second home, and although I knew well enough to stay out of reach and not talk in front of them, they spoke to me as if I was real. ‘Would Olive like to stay for a tea party?’ Mrs Withadrew would say.

  Surely such a kind woman would not turn on me?

  But she did. I can’t blame her, she thought she was doing the right thing by her child. She just didn’t realise how she had ripped out my heart in the process.

  ‘Oh,’ I’d said to Jordan. ‘So why are you packed?’

  ‘Because I hate them,’ she said, her fierce little face drawn up in fury. ‘I’m running away—with you.’

  I wanted to hug her then; for her love, for her loyalty. ‘You wouldn’t like my place. We don’t get sweets.’

  ‘Then we’ll run away somewhere else. Somewhere hot with oranges and tennis.’

  It sounded like the grandest plan I’d ever heard, but I knew I couldn’t do it to her. I’d seen enough to know how scary the city could be. Little girls couldn’t just wander the streets and I wasn’t strong enough to protect her.

  I started to cry then, desperate for my mother, my father, anyone. And Jordan had stood up and hugged me, promising she would never believe them and we would be best friends forever.

  We struggled on for a few more months like that, pretending everything was fine. But it was basically the beginning of the end.

  I had that same feeling with Tom tonight. An overwhelming sense that we’re doomed.

  CHAPTER

  19

  The following night I visit Felix. We’re sitting cross-legged opposite each other, his father’s chess set between us. I’ve come once again to mourn my dismal relationship.

  ‘Notice how you only visit me when you’re in crisis?’ Felix asks.

  It’s true, he’s my north star. He’s completely unflappable, just being beside him brings me solace. Playing chess brings me even more peace. He suggested it within minutes of me climbing in tonight.

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’m always in crisis.’

  ‘True,’ he says a little too quickly.

  I’m feeling guilty about Tom and about Rose. I always knew I was inclined to be self-absorbed, but I should have tried harder. I should try harder with Felix too. So I take a breath and feign interest in his life outside this room.

  ‘So, how’s Gromit?’ I try. (Okay, I could have tried harder.)

  ‘Funny.’ He pushes forward a pawn. ‘Wallace is great. We should double date.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I make a face, which he obviously misses so I make certain my tone conveys my distaste. ‘Besides, I’m not sure I have a date to bring along.’

  Felix pulls off his socks. He has a weird need to be barefoot. ‘I’d like to meet this Tom of yours.’

  ‘Would you now?’

  ‘Sure.’ He grins. ‘See what a real madman looks like.’

  I reach across and punch him. ‘See what he looks like! Ha. You wish, blindy.’

  ‘If only more girls were as refined as you,’ he says, rubbing his arm where I hit it. ‘You should teach deportment classes.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, just admit it, you just want to check out the competition,’ I tease, returning my attention to the board.

  ‘Well, yes, there is that.’

  We both know it’s not true. Felix isn’t competition.

  ‘How much longer are you going to take?’ he says. ‘We have to end this game sometime in the current geological epoch.’

  I growl at him. ‘Do you have any idea how irritating you are, nerd?’

  ‘You manage to remind me quite frequently—yes.’ He takes off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes. ‘Nobody else seems to have a problem with me though.’

  I snort. ‘That’s because they’re all fake—society says you’re not allowed to be mean to a blind guy.’

  ‘Except that doesn’t apply to you.’

  ‘Bishop to B5,’ I tell him, moving the piece. ‘You want me to treat you like a retard?’

  ‘Not at all. This is exactly why I love you.’ He leans over the chess board and feels for my face, then plants a sloppy one on my forehead.

  ‘Gross. You almost put your finger up my nose!’ I object, but it’s also kind of nice and I’m glad he’s blind so he doesn’t see me blushing.

  He settles back onto the rug, lying on his stomach now, beating his feet together. ‘Where’s your queen again? Forget it, F1 right?’ He pushes a pawn forward with excruciating accuracy. It kills me. ‘You shouldn’t leave her so unprotected.’

  ‘You play your game, I’ll play mine, you photographic memory freak,’ I quip.

  ‘So what are you going to do about Tom?’ he says, waiting for me to make my move.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s all so hard. Relationships are so blah.’

  ‘I might be wrong but it sounds like you need to get to know his family.’

  ‘Argh. Hideous.’

  ‘It seems important to him though. You might need to suck it up.’

  He can’t be serious. ‘And how does one do this, when one cannot be seen?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Please don’t start. I can’t handle another fight right now,’ I say, collapsing my chin into the cradle of my hands.

  ‘Hello?’ Felix jokes, feeling for my face again. ‘Who is it really in my room? It’s definitely not Olive!’

  ‘Come on.’ I roll my eyes.

  Felix laughs gently. ‘Well, as I said, get to know them, they don’t necessarily have to get to know you.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘A few genuine “your mum’s really nice” and “your sister is a doll” wouldn’t go astray.’ He is stroking his eyebrow, like he’s fending off a headache. I hope I’m not causing it. ‘You know what Lincoln said.’

  ‘Lincoln who?’ I joke. ‘Buddy of yours from school?’

  ‘Abe Lincoln, funny—“if you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend”. Think you could manage that?’

  ‘Do you think it would be enough?’

  ‘Might help you fool him into thinking you’re a decent human being.’ He shrugs.

  ‘Hey! I’m not that bad!’

  ‘That’s why you’re always asking after my mother—who is doing very well after her surgery, thank you very much.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  Felix laughs.

  ‘There’s got to be an alternative.’ I claim one of his pawns with my knight. ‘Knight to G6. Gotcha.’

  He immediately snaps up my knight with his queen. ‘Well, do you know what he likes?’

  And with that, I can’t even be frustrated with his move, I’m back at the beach, my gut cramping with anxiety as I hear Tamara so confidently assert, ‘I still know what you like.’

  The truth is I don’t know anything about Tom, not really. I don’t even know where he lives. I am the worst girlfriend in the world.

  ‘Olive? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yeah. Just thinking.’

  ‘S
o, what does he like?’ he asks again.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit, shamefaced.

  ‘Oh.’

  His shock makes me determined. ‘But I know someone who does.’

  CHAPTER

  20

  ‘Yo, yo, what’s up?’

  ‘You left New York thirteen years ago, Dad,’ I remind him while I pull on my shoes. As much as I like speaking to Dad, I don’t have time for this. I’m getting ready to go on a detective mission.

  ‘Whatevs.’

  ‘Dad. No. Pleeeassee! Now you sound like some cheerleader.’

  He laughs then quickly becomes sombre. It sounds odd on him. ‘Look duckie, I’m just calling because I spoke to Rose.’

  So. Rose has been telling tales. I put the phone on speaker and lay it on my bed while I zip up my hoodie. ‘That must have been thrilling for you.’

  ‘She said you met someone—a boy called Tom.’

  There is a silence on the line between us. I’m not sure yet where this conversation is heading—I desperately hope he’s calling to say how happy he is for me, but instinct warns me it’s the opposite. I go on the offensive. Gushing like I’ve just been nominated for an Oscar.

  ‘Isn’t it incredible? It’s just the best thing that’s happened in my life. I’m sooo happy!’

  I’m glad he can’t see my smirk. He’d have to be heartless to go rough on me now.

  ‘That’s great duckie,’ he says, sounding anything but happy.

  I push on. ‘Did you hear what I look like?’

  ‘Yes, Rose told me. She says you look like,’ his voice slips, ‘your Ma.’

  It gives me pause to swallow. ‘Nan too, I think.’

  ‘The Irish runs strong in your veins.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Because I’m an invisible weirdo like Ma, neither of us say.

  There is long drawn-out silence before the inevitable comes. ‘This Tom … Rose says you haven’t told him.’

  ‘Rose is a dibber-dobber.’

  ‘She’s just concerned.’

  ‘Well I can handle it, okay?’

  He makes a clucking sound with his tongue. ‘Olive, this isn’t just about you. The boy—’

  I pick up the phone so I can shout at it. ‘I know! I could ruin his life, just like Ma ruined yours! Don’t you think I’m aware of that? Do you think this is easy?’ I take a breath, feeling the fury overwhelm me. I’m drowning in it.

  ‘I know it’s not easy,’ he replies. ‘And your mother did not ruin my life.’

  ‘Oh yeah? So what do you suggest I do? I don’t even know if we’re compatible yet. I hardly know him. Should I have pulled him aside on our first date and said, “look sorry about this, but apart from the little problem of me being invisible, the gypsy curse also means that if you fall in love with me, everyone else on the planet could become invisible to you”?’

  Dad doesn’t respond.

  ‘Do you think he’d want a second date, Dad? Do you?’ I’m sobbing by this stage.

  Dad waits until my sobs settle down. ‘It might not happen to him, duckie. You don’t know, nobody knows. It didn’t strike me for years.’

  ‘So why do I have to tell him?’ I wail.

  ‘Because he deserves to know the truth and make the choice himself.’

  Again silence lingers between us. I wish this wasn’t my reality, I wish this wasn’t my life, but it is, and there is nothing I can do but face it and hope.

  ‘Was it really that bad?’ I ask him. ‘Would you have chosen differently if you knew?’

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know. I had six great years with your Ma before people started fading.’

  ‘It could be the same for Tom and me.’

  ‘It could. Or he might never develop the problem at all,’ he says. ‘But you need to tell him.’

  I think about Dad then, the strangeness of what he’d experienced. First, finding out the woman he loved was invisible to everyone else, then having an invisible child with her, then worst of all, when he thought he’d learned to accept everything, people started disappearing from his view.

  My dad’s a strong man, gregarious, confident, and he found it impossible. Could Tom handle it?

  ‘You really saw nobody else?’ I ask, desperately hoping for him to suddenly deny it, to tell me it was one of his famous hoaxes.

  But he replies, ‘Not until the moment she died.’

  My mother, who I remember smelling—coffee and cardamom; touching—soft skin and sweaters; and listening to—tall tales and deep laughter—but never, ever, seeing.

  My dad saw her. Was it enough? Maybe it wasn’t.

  I doubt it will be enough for Tom.

  ‘He’ll walk away.’

  ‘Maybe, duckie, but it’s the right thing to do.’

  I’ve got no response to that. Of course it’s the right thing to do, but it will be the end and I don’t want it to end. Tom’s all upset because he hasn’t seen his father in a year. There’s no way he’ll hang around if there is a chance of never seeing anyone he loves again.

  Again I curse the gypsy. Again I curse my stupid Nan. Again I curse my stupid parents for having me. It was after I was born that my dad started having trouble.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I say.

  ‘Think about it, Olive.’

  I hang up and drop my phone into my pocket with resolve. This detective mission has become even more important. It’s obvious I’m going to have to tell Tom the truth and when I do I want him to have no doubts. I want him to love me so much he’d risk anything for me. Right now, he wouldn’t risk nuts.

  I need to learn how to be the perfect girlfriend. I need Tamara.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Tamara works at a travel agent. I remember the shopping centre location from the business card in her wallet.

  After Dad’s call I’m pushing it to make it there by five pm, but I do and I trail her as she walks home in her awful uniform—navy skirt and striped and logo-ed business shirt. It would kill me to have to wear that. Still, she makes it her own with patent leather pumps and dangly earrings. She looks okay, I guess.

  She talks loudly into her phone as she walks. People glare at her high-pitched squeals, but she doesn’t notice. She’s meeting the girls at a beer garden someplace. Mason might be coming.

  At the bus stop she gets out gum and plays with her phone some more, tapping and scrolling and making faces at it. I jump on the bus after her and we ride a few suburbs. It’s pretty empty so I get a seat to myself. She presses the button to alight, so I exit through the back doors as she takes the front, thanking the driver all giddy-like, as if she’s still ten years old.

  Her house is a large double storey place, two-car garage, Mercedes parked in the drive. It’s got to be her parents’ place, which is a bit rich after she had a go at Tom for still living at home.

  She pulls the front door shut behind her, so I stalk around the perimeter, checking out my options. Tamara’s mum is reading in a lounge chair on the back porch. She’s perfectly put together, just like her daughter; immaculate blond hair, fake tan, loads of jewellery.

  Tamara opens the screen door. ‘Hi Mum, I’m home.’ She says it extra cheery, like she’s on a TV commercial.

  Her mother doesn’t look up. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Tamara asks eagerly. ‘I can make a pot for us?’

  Her mother still doesn’t look at her. ‘No, thank you, Tamara.’

  ‘Do you want me to make that curry dish tonight? Dad loved it.’

  She turns a page. ‘Your father and I will be out this evening.’

  I watch Tamara slump, her hand on the door handle. This is why she made plans with her friends. It must happen all the time. ‘I’ll just be upstairs then,’ she says quietly.

  No response. Tamara shuts the door.

  Damn this mother is cold. No wonder the girl is so keen to get started on her own family. She obviously doesn’t have one going on here.

  I watch through the window as she
disappears upstairs. Cac. I’m going to have to go in.

  I promised Rose years ago that I would stop climbing onto roofs. When I was fourteen I’d had a bad fall and there was no doctor she could take me to. It was pretty scary but it inspired her to think about nursing full time—so she does owe me something.

  I scoop up a handful of soil from the garden and scatter it gently on Tamara’s mother’s carefully coiffed hair as I walk past, then I go inside, letting the screen door bash back into place. The mother looks annoyed for an instant, then goes back to her book, assuming it was her daughter. What a banshee.

  Upstairs, Tamara’s room is easy to locate. Bright white, loads of light—I’m jealous. She turns on music and starts dancing as she pulls off her uniform and throws it into a hamper. She’s moving about the room singing, I’m backed against the wall, she could bump into me any second. It’s too dangerous for me to lurk in her room, but she has an en-suite, the spoilt princess, so I slip in and watch from the safety of the door.

  It’s not evident from Tamara’s room that she’s broken up with Tom. There are photos of him everywhere, just like on her phone. Photos of him posing on the beach with his board, photos of them cuddling, her holding out the camera to get selfies of them kissing. Gross. His white-ass smile is on every wall. I lean against the doorframe feeling sick.

  Stop it! I tell myself. Remember—she knows him. This is why you came here. To learn about him.

  Tamara has slipped into jeans and a white tank top. She looks like she’ll be heading straight out. I need to think of something fast.

  Before I do, she walks straight at me. I step backward as quietly as I can, trying not to trip over the bath mat, and squat beside the toilet. Unfortunately she shuts the door and squats right there beside me. There is no escaping this.

  I would like to say I haven’t been in this situation before but as luck would have it, I have. Jordan’s father. I was about seven and had just finished using the toilet myself when he came into their bathroom and shut the door. He was noisier than Tamara. He sat on the toilet for close to twenty minutes reading the paper. It stank. I almost fell asleep with my head butted up against the tiles.