The Impossible Story of Olive In Love

by Tonya Alexandra

‘I’m guessing he’s all surfer dude; blond hair, blue eyes,’ Felix says.

  ‘Actually his hair is kind of sandy dirt.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘It is.’ I sigh. ‘Kinda predictable though right?’

  ‘Kinda.’ His nose wrinkles but he’s smiling. ‘I like him though. Seems decent.’

  ‘Too nice for me?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  We’re both laughing as Tom walks up the beach. My heart hammers against my chest. I can’t believe what he just asked me.

  ‘So you liked surfing?’ Tom says, falling onto the sand beside me.

  ‘Total convert.’

  ‘Well, you were pretty good, for, you know …’ He peters off in his usual annoying way.

  My eyes narrow. ‘Were you going to say, a girl?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You were too!’

  ‘I was not!’

  ‘I swear Thomas. You sound like Napoleon or Mussolini or something!’

  ‘I sound like a dictator? How?’

  Felix intercedes. ‘What are you talking about, you crazy girl?’

  ‘You don’t know either? Typical. Two arrogant asses who insist emphatically on the inferiority of women.’

  ‘We’re what?’ Tom asks.

  ‘Not us—Mussolini and Napoleon,’ Felix reassures Tom.

  ‘May as well be you,’ I huff.

  ‘Christ, Olive, I was going to say considering it was your first time.’ Tom is shaking his head.

  ‘Well maybe you’ll start finishing your sentences now you see what damage they do!’

  ‘Or maybe, Olive, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions,’ Felix butts in.

  I turn on him. ‘Or maybe you should put your jeans back on!’ I snap. ‘Wet white undies are not a good look.’

  Silence descends. I went too far. Felix pats around for his jeans and hauls them across his lap.

  Tom is frowning at me.

  ‘She’s having a go man. You look fine. Did you like surfing?’

  ‘Yeah it was great. Thanks for taking us,’ Felix answers.

  ‘Don’t thank me. You were the amazing one out there dude. There’s no way I could do it if I couldn’t see anything.’

  Tom is right, it must have been scary, tumbling around in the dark not knowing which direction the beach was. I probably shouldn’t have pushed Felix into it. And then I made that mean comment about his pants. I’m being a bad friend again. And just when everything was going so well for me! I need to commend Felix. That would be the nice thing to do.

  I’m proud of myself as I say, ‘Yes Felix, you were amazing. Big boy brave.’

  ‘Totally brave,’ Tom backs me up.

  But for some reason Felix is scowling. ‘Well, you know, any excuse to get between Olive’s legs.’

  The joke falls flat. I can feel Tom stiffen beside me.

  ‘Jesus, Felix,’ I say.

  ‘Sorry,’ he replies. ‘It was supposed to be funny.’ But he seems annoyed more than ashamed.

  Tom stands up and says he’s going to get food. He holds out his hand for me to take but I shake my head. ‘I’ll stay.’ He shrugs his shoulders, probably annoyed now too.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ I hiss at Felix as Tom walks away.

  ‘Nothing!’ He sits up and kicks the sand at his feet. ‘Everything.’

  ‘That’s helpful.’

  He turns to face me, I have to squint to see him. ‘Do you have to make me sound like such a goddamn loser?’

  ‘What? I was complimenting you!’

  ‘Big boy brave—that’s not a compliment, that’s big boy patronising.’ He snorts. ‘And in front of him, Mr Perfect.’

  ‘He’s not perfect.’

  ‘Right,’ Felix scoffs.

  ‘No honestly, he’s not. He didn’t even know what mitochondria was.’

  Felix starts laughing then. Hearty, heartbreaking laughter that makes me laugh along with him even though I don’t know what he’s laughing at.

  ‘What?’ I manage to get out.

  ‘That poor, poor bastard,’ he says, still laughing. ‘You suck as a girlfriend.’

  ‘I know,’ I say, still giggling. I lean over and pull his elbow. He resists for a moment, then lets me pull him down. We stare at the sky as our laughter peters out. ‘He wants us to move in together,’ I say after a moment.

  Felix jerks toward me. ‘He what?’

  I turn and face Felix. I know he can’t see me, but it’s important to say the words to him somehow. ‘Tom wants us to move in together.’

  His lip curls. ‘What the hell would you do that for?’

  ‘Why wait?’

  Felix is shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Wow. You’re both really buying into this gypsy “true love” thing aren’t you?’

  ‘Buying into? What do you mean? Why else would he see me?’

  ‘You’re kidding right? There’s got to be a scientific explanation. It doesn’t have to be some dark curse on your family.’ He waves his hands and says it in a ghostly voice, like he’s possessed—and I’m crazy.

  ‘It is a curse!’ I say, getting frustrated. ‘There is nothing else. What do you think I’ve been researching all this time?’

  ‘You’re seventeen, Olive, how much research can you have done?’ he says. ‘What did your mum think about it, or your nan? There’s got to be more to it.’

  ‘They didn’t know anything,’ I snap back at him.

  ‘Do you know that for sure?’

  I don’t know anything for sure. Dad and Rose are so tight-lipped about our past, we don’t even communicate with Nan anymore. I don’t want to admit he’s right but he could be. ‘They would have told me if they knew more.’

  ‘So you know squat. But you and Tom are still both intent on tying your lives together—over what? A myth.’ He snorts with the ridiculousness of it. Turns away in disgust.

  I don’t know what I expected from Felix but it wasn’t this. In a lot of ways he’s making sense. But it hurts.

  ‘Why do you have to spoil this for me? Do you think this is going to be a regular occurrence? Do you think I can just dump this guy, the only person in the world who can see me, and move on to the hundreds waiting in line? It is a miracle I found him.’

  Felix swivels back to me. ‘It can’t be the only reason though, Olive. You can’t just move in with him because he can see you.’

  ‘It’s not.’ My voice drops away. ‘I love him, okay?’

  Felix sighs and tips his face to the sun. ‘Okay,’ he says after a minute. ‘If you love him—then okay.’ He reaches for my hand. My first instinct is to pull it away, to sulk for a good few days over this. But really, what’s the point?

  ‘I’m sorry about before,’ I say quietly, helping him find my hand. ‘Calling you big boy brave. This is really embarrassing, but that was me trying to be nice. I was actually proud of myself for coming up with it.’

  Felix starts laughing.

  ‘It’s not funny!’

  ‘It’s very funny!’ he maintains. ‘I’ve never met such a terrible nice person. You’re much better obnoxious.’

  I slap his skinny white chest. ‘Yeah? Well you’re much better with your shirt on.’

  ‘Ha. It doesn’t seem to be a problem when we’re in bed.’

  I shush him. ‘Shut up, Tom’s coming back.’

  CHAPTER

  30

  In the car on the way home, Tom hums to a song I hate on the radio. I’m pretty sure he hates it too. I’m picking up clear signs of avoidance.

  ‘Are you giving me the silent treatment?’

  ‘No.’ He stares straight ahead, eyes on the road.

  Leave it be, I think, watching the rain trickle down the glass. Don’t cause any more drama.

  We had to evacuate the beach when an afternoon storm rolled in. We shoved the gear into the ute, Tom wrapped me in his jacket for warmth and we drove Felix home. After Felix’s poor joke, the boys acted like everything was fine, chatting about Tom’s work and Felix’s
study, but it felt strained. Neither of them was behaving normally. I can tell Tom’s not happy now. Did Felix say something to him?

  I can’t get his words out of my head. You two are really buying into this gypsy true love thing.

  But we’re not buying in—we’re in love—truly.

  ‘That went okay, today,’ I say, rubbing my cheek into the wool lining of the collar of Tom’s jacket.

  Tom’s fingers tighten, then loosen, around the steering wheel. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Felix likes you. Says you’re decent. Too good for me.’

  Tom snorts, his lips press together.

  ‘Thanks for teaching us, surfing was much more fun than I thought it would be,’ I say, trying to keep the ball rolling.

  ‘No problem.’ He keeps humming. Definitely avoiding.

  ‘Do you like Celine?’ I ask, flicking the stereo with my finger.

  ‘She’s all right.’

  ‘You do not like Celine!’ I say.

  His eyes narrow. ‘Am I allowed to like Celine?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  His jaw clenches. ‘Nothing.’

  I’ve had enough. ‘Pull over.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said pull over.’

  ‘We’re like five minutes away.’

  ‘Just …’

  ‘Fine!’ he snaps, pulling up so quickly I jolt forward in my seatbelt.

  I spin toward him so I can look him straight in the face. ‘What is your problem?’

  ‘You’re the one telling me to pull over!’ he replies.

  ‘Is it Felix? The leg comment?’ I ask. ‘Because I told you there is nothing like that between us. He was just upset.’

  ‘Right.’ His lips are definitely curling now.

  ‘I’m serious! We’re just friends.’

  Tom looks down his nose at me. He exhales as he speaks, long and deep and condescending. ‘Olive, you’re so naïve.’

  Oh no. That fires me up. I was prepared to be understanding about a little jealousy, but this? No way.

  ‘What am I naïve about, genius?’

  ‘You don’t have to insult me because I don’t have the brains of darling Felix.’

  ‘I wasn’t comparing you to Felix, idiot, I was referring to you thinking that you know what’s going on between me and my best friend after meeting him one time,’ I say. ‘I know you’ve got regret you didn’t finish uni shoved so far up your ass you need an enema—but don’t take it out on me!’

  ‘I’m not taking it out on you. I’m just telling you how it is—you think I’m stupid.’

  ‘I do not think you’re stupid!’ This boy is driving me nuts! ‘You know all sorts of stuff I would never know, like about plants and building and cars and, and surfing … you know, outdoor stuff.’ How did this conversation end up here?

  Tom scoffs.

  ‘What? It’s useful!’ I insist. ‘At least you could survive after an apocalypse or something.’

  ‘Yeah, great.’

  I try to regain my composure. I don’t want to fight with Tom. Would you fight so much if he really was your true love? I hear Felix say. I push the thought away and focus on how Rose calms me by trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on.

  ‘So, you’re jealous of Felix being smart?’ I try.

  He looks at me for a long moment. ‘Olive. He likes you.’

  I groan. How are we back to this?

  ‘You might not like him, but I’m telling you, he likes you.’

  ‘He doesn’t! He has a girlfriend—Wallace. He wanted to invite her today only I wouldn’t let him.’ I’m so frustrated, I clutch the back of my neck and squeeze.

  Tom turns away from me, looking out the front windscreen. It has gone all foggy. ‘Whatever. He still likes you.’

  God I feel so disillusioned, so afraid. Tom isn’t listening to me at all. How in hell do we stand a chance when he won’t believe me? Why doesn’t he understand? I start to cry.

  ‘What now?’ He looks irritated by me.

  ‘It’s just, it’s just … Felix is all I have.’ I wipe the tears from my cheeks, mad at myself for crying. It makes me look so pathetic.

  ‘No. He’s not.’ Tom’s face is deathly hurt. ‘You have me.’

  Not if this is a myth, I think. Not if we’re fooling ourselves and we’re not meant to be.

  ‘You think I shouldn’t care that there’s this other bloke in your life, who you love, who you trust way more than me?’ Tom says bitterly.

  ‘I don’t,’ I reply weakly.

  He looks me in the eye. ‘I bet he knows about your mum.’

  I can’t deny it, but Tom’s being unfair. I’ve known Felix for years, Tom and I have only known each other a few months.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just Felix, he’s always been there for me. And you, I don’t know …’

  My head falls into my hands.

  We sit there listening to the rain on the roof. The storm has eased, becoming a fine constant drizzle. Tom doesn’t say anything.

  ‘I don’t know what you want me to do,’ I say eventually. ‘I’m not giving Felix up. He’s my best friend. My only friend.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to give him up.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’ I look up into his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Tom slumps as he looks at me. I can see he pities me. I can’t stand it. ‘Nothing I suppose,’ he says, looking defeated. ‘I’ll learn to live with it …’

  I know the words he’s leaving out: like I do everything else.

  Tom starts up the car and we drive in silence the rest of the way. He pulls up next to my house and leaves the ignition running.

  ‘You’re not coming in?’

  ‘I think I better head home.’

  ‘You don’t want to talk to Rose about, you know?’

  Tom looks drained, like it’s difficult to even hold up his head. ‘Another time,’ he says.

  This is bad. He can’t even look at me.

  ‘Fine,’ I say. Although it’s really not fine at all. ‘I guess I’ll see you around.’

  He doesn’t move to kiss me so I take the hint and get out of the car. Then I see it.

  ‘Oh my god!’ I leap back into the cab.

  ‘What?’ says Tom.

  ‘My dad’s car—it’s parked just there—the yellow convertible.’

  Tom switches off the ignition. ‘Your dad’s here?’

  I make an urgent flapping motion toward the keys. ‘Turn it back on, he must be inside. Let’s go.’ I cannot have the two of them meeting. Dad can only be here for one reason.

  Tom looks at me. ‘You don’t want me to meet your father?’

  He’s directed the question at me like it’s the most important question in the world. What am I supposed to say?

  ‘I do, just not now.’ I watch his jaw clench. ‘Soon,’ I reassure him. ‘I just can’t. Not tonight.’

  Tom shakes his head with disbelief. ‘Fine. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Can’t I come with you?’ I’m desperate to avoid Dad’s interrogation and I want to fix this between Tom and me.

  ‘No,’ Tom says, looking straight ahead.

  ‘But I don’t want to leave it this way. You’re upset,’ I say. ‘I don’t want you to be upset.’

  He spits my own line back at me. ‘I just can’t. Not tonight.’

  I can hardly protest.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, on the verge of tears again. ‘See you soon.’

  No response.

  I step out into the drizzle and stand on the sidewalk as he pulls away. I am Eliza Doolittle, My Fair Lady, scene one, a vagrant on a damp 1900s London street. The rain, in vain, falls gently on my pain.

  CHAPTER

  31

  A ribcage is no armour for a heart; it protects nothing. I need something stronger. Something that doesn’t let in the words, the gestures, the looks. My heart is so heavy it’s about to drop out of its useless cage onto the wet cement.

  The lights are on in
the house. Rose will be in there talking to Dad about me.

  I can’t go in and deal with them, especially not after fighting with Tom.

  I need comfort. I need a friend.

  I glance down the road at Jordan’s house. It’s been a long time. Would it hurt just to take a peek?

  The wet has soaked through Tom’s jacket to my skin and I’m starting to shiver. I’m cold standing in the drizzle outside Jordan’s window but at the sight of her, I feel relief, as if I’ve been holding my breath since Tom drove away. She carries herself with surly confidence now, in a loose-hipped, slouchy sort of way, with brown cords and tinsel blond hair. Her legs are so long I resolve to nickname her ‘Pins’.

  When Jordan leaves the room I decide to go inside. I may as well take advantage of my invisibleness.

  Jordan’s window is a little trickier to sneak in through now I’m fully grown. When I was a kid I could scramble in with feline grace, but right now I’m banging elbows, scraping knees; I should be better at this considering how often I’m forced to do it.

  I close the window after me and tiptoe across to her rug. Ooh. It’s so cosy in here. But cac, I’ve left muddy footprints. I scuttle over on my hands and knees and swipe at them with the sleeve of Tom’s jacket. But it’s wet too and they just smear. Damn, it looks worse, and now my hair has started dripping.

  I need something dry to wipe it up with; I search around, a towel, a T-shirt—anything would do, but it’s too late, Jordan is standing at the door, her hands wrapped around a wonky school project pottery mug.

  Jordan’s brow furrows as she stands there, her silhouette illuminated by the hall light behind her. I leap back against her wardrobe before she trips over me. But she’s more careful than that. She puts down her tea mug and steps cautiously toward the water on the floor, shining slick in the light.

  ‘Olive?’ she asks tentatively.

  I wonder how often she does this. How often she is spooked by everyday phenomena; wondering if it’s me, questioning her sanity. Here is another person I’ve screwed up. If I was a friend I would leave now. I would find the strength to walk out. But Tom is right. I’m cruel to the ones I love.

  I don’t say a word, but there is a drip, drip, drip coming off me somewhere. Maybe my hair, more likely Tom’s coat. I move my hands around, searching the clothes for the source of the drip. But Jordan hears it too. She moves toward me, her hands out like we’re playing Blind Man’s Bluff, feeling her way forward.