The Impossible Story of Olive In Love

by Tonya Alexandra

  Tom doesn’t want me but I’ll survive this. For thirty-three days I will not leave my room except to get food from the kitchen and go to the bathroom. I’ll emerge new and able to deal with a world without Tom.

  Mostly, I read, sleep or do research on the internet. I’m looking a lot at geographic areas of reported alien or ‘otherworldly’ activity. It makes me feel more human.

  Svalbard, in Norway, sounds intriguing. It’s got volcanoes, hot springs and permafrost and it’s the only place on Earth with carbonate deposits identical to those found in the Martian meteorite ALH84001. Yes, a Martian meteorite. Spooky. It also looks wildly beautiful.

  I research spiritual meccas: Angkor Wat, Machu Picchu, Uluru—the usual suspects. It fascinates me that geographical locations can have certain types of energy. Centuries ago the Vatican city was built on sacred Pagan grounds because of the energy, even today the town of Sarasota, in Florida, is known as some kind of metaphysical hotspot. They say the sand on the beach is 99% quartz crystal. Why am I here when I could be living in a metaphysical hotspot?

  I wonder about turning Wynona into a roving international reporter. How would that work?

  Tom and Felix both call on and off for the first couple of days. Then they both stop. I spend a lot of time thinking about why. Felix understands me, he knows it’ll all blow over given time. I’m pretty certain Tom has just given up. He’ll be relieved to be off the hook.

  Eleven days in, Rose slides a letter under my door. I can see immediately from the scrawl of ‘Olive’ across the envelope that it’s from Tom. I flush warm with the thought. God I’ve missed him. I tear it open, unfold the note:

  Olive

  Invisible I can take. Maybe even never seeing another living person again. But when you refuse to talk to me, it’s too much. I need you and you’re not here for me. All I can do is write you a stupid letter and hope you bother to read it.

  I love you but it’s not enough. This is too hard. I’m done.

  Tom

  I crush the paper in my palm and throw it at the wall. It reads like he was considering giving us a shot. How is that even possible? Nobody is that crazy. Tears spill down my cheeks and I let them fall. I knew he would leave me. I knew it.

  Rose knocks cautiously at my door. ‘Olive? Can I come in?’

  I open the door. Thirty-three days are not over, but what’s the point? She steps tentatively into the room, not knowing where I am. She spots the discarded letter on the floor. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  I try to reply but all that comes out is a choked sob.

  ‘Oh, Olive, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I knew it,’ I manage after a moment. ‘He can’t handle my crazy.’

  Rose makes a face, like I’m being unreasonable. ‘You wouldn’t speak to him. What did you expect? The thirty-three days thing is ridiculous.’

  ‘Felix understands,’ I point out.

  ‘Felix isn’t trying to plan a life with you.’

  I hate that she’s right. ‘Neither is Tom.’ I drop my face into my hands. ‘Not anymore.’

  ‘No,’ Rose says. ‘Not anymore.’

  I didn’t think it would be Rose’s voice that signposted the end of my relationship with Tom, but it is. Her words are final, the conductor has placed down his baton. Tom and me, our symphony is over.

  Unless …

  CHAPTER

  34

  It’s dark by the time I make it to his god-awful suburban street, walking under the hissing street lamps, fruit bats squawking in the lilly pillys. Tom would have finished work by now but when I reach his house his ute is missing from the driveway. I collapse on the pavement and stare up at the stars. There is no moon, it is evading me like Tom.

  Where is he? He can’t leave me like this: stranded, aching, hollow.

  I lift my skirts and hoist myself over the wall. Bluto is missing too. Maybe Tom is taking him for a walk. I duck around and peer into Tom’s room. I can’t see much in the dark but the surfboard he keeps in the corner is missing. Surely he wouldn’t be surfing in the dark?

  I wait by the letterbox for another hour. If he was walking Bluto, he’d be back by now, it’s dinner time inside—I can hear Janelle calling to Paul—Tom wouldn’t keep his mum waiting.

  I walk listlessly toward Tamara’s house. I doubt he’s there but it’s close enough that I may as well check.

  Tamara is leaving when I arrive, slamming the door and texting as she gets into a car. She looks dressed up to go out. Maybe he’s at the local pub where he goes with his school buddies sometimes. It would make sense.

  Tom has pointed it out to me, so I know where it is. I sigh and get walking. I wish I could hail a cab. It’s going to take me a while, so I hope he hasn’t left by then.

  Thirty minutes later I reach the pub. It’s a worn carpet kind of dive, but the lights are low and everyone seems to know each other, so I can see the appeal. I’m reminded of the night we met as I see Jason, Dave, Hazza and Liz sitting in a booth. Again, Jason is doing all of the talking. Liz is looking around the room, bored. No Tom. I slump against the door, hands covering my stomach.

  I’m almost slammed into by Erica as she heads over to the bar where Tamara stands sipping a raspberry coloured cocktail next to Mason. Again, no Tom.

  Trying to surprise him is just too hard. Completely defeated, I slip out my phone and punch in: Where are you?

  I can’t ignore the irony of the text conversation I read between Tom and Tamara that first night. I was so smug then. Poor Tamara.

  I perch beside the booth where Tom’s friends are sitting and wait for Tom to message back or for one of his friends to mention him. It’s not my finest hour.

  Time passes. Jason goes on about some project he is working on. Dave leaves to buy them another round. I’m so tired I almost collapse against Liz’s elbow. We could be friends if things were different. I could sit on the bench beside her, taking turns at making snide remarks about the other punters. I think we’d get along, if I wasn’t, you know, appearance challenged.

  It’s mildly interesting watching the comings and goings of Tom’s friends but I’ve had enough for tonight. It’s especially tedious when your neck tenses every time the door swings open and in plods another long-haired surfer or a girl with too much fake tan. It’s never him. It’s never him.

  Tom’s friends don’t mention him either. Tom told me they were annoyed at him for spending so much time with me and for never introducing us, but I didn’t think they’d wipe him completely from their social circle. The boy warrants a mention! I wonder if they know about our break-up at all.

  I think about walking to the beach. Maybe he’s there all alone, mourning our relationship. I imagine him sitting by a fire in the sand with Bluto, his face illuminated by the warm firelight, smiling as he sees me appear. ‘I was hoping you’d come,’ he’d say.

  But I think I’ve done enough imagining for one night.

  I try to think logically as I sit and wait; fettered to Tom’s friends by an invisible manacle. I’m embarrassed by myself, I’m worse than my worst nightmare, hanging around waiting for a boy. But I just can’t pull myself away.

  Finally, my phone vibrates! I dash to an empty corner and pull it out.

  Not Tom. Felix.

  Rose must have told him what’s going on. I’m about to write a seething message about being someone else’s snooping rat, when I see what he’s sent me.

  Olive light, Olive bright,

  The only girl I miss tonight

  I wish I may, I wish I might,

  Give the girl my wish tonight

  Cac. It’s a little bit beautiful.

  Olive:

  Thanks bub.

  Felix:

  So what’s your wish?

  As if he doesn’t know.

  Olive:

  I can’t tell you. It won’t come true.

  Felix:

  Ok. But don’t do anything stupid. No back-alley fights etc.

  Olive:

  How di
d you know that’s exactly my next move?

  Felix:

  Not without me it’s not. I’ve got your back.

  That makes me smile.

  Olive:

  A blind guy in a fight, hilarious.

  Felix:

  My brain is more effective than a right hook. I can get a girl outta trouble.

  Olive:

  I’ll count on it.

  Felix:

  Just come home.

  He’s right. This is mad. Tom is ignoring my message and he’s got every right to. I deserve this. I deserve worse.

  Outside I see Mason sucking back on a cigarette with a mate. ‘So it’s going alright with Tamara then? Tom’s not giving you any trouble?’ the guy asks Mason.

  It’s the first time I’ve heard Tom mentioned all night so I linger.

  ‘Nah,’ says Mason. ‘He called her tonight but she said it was nothing.’

  ‘And you believe her?’

  ‘She’s here with me isn’t she?’ He stomps on his cigarette butt and walks back inside.

  Tom called Tamara. Why?

  I should head home, but hearing them talk about Tom brings all the hurt and hope back to the surface. I want Tom so bad it’s like my stomach is full of vinegar.

  There’s only one place to go.

  I almost weep when Tom’s ute is still missing from the driveway. It’s after midnight and all the lights are off. I climb the fence—Bluto is still gone—and jimmy open Tom’s bedroom window. Once inside, I pull on one of his T-shirts and slip into his bed. Tom’s sheets smell deliciously like him and if I shut my eyes and try really hard to block the sick feeling in my stomach, I can almost imagine he’s in the room next door—going to the bathroom or something. He’ll walk in any minute and be so happy to find me. He’ll slide into bed and we’ll make up properly. We’ll talk about real plans. I’ll reassure him we can make it work between us, that I’ll never shut myself off from him again. I’ll trust him with everything. I’ll be the perfect girlfriend.

  I roll over and bury my face in his pillow. It’ll all be okay. We’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.

  CHAPTER

  35

  Needless to say I wake up alone. That day, and the next three days I insist on waiting there.

  I can’t talk about the pain. Lying listless in Tom’s sheets, listening to the soft shifts in the house as the family go about their daily routines. Janelle slamming the door for her morning run, Paul shuffling around making breakfast, calling his daughter on the telephone. The house becoming silent after they leave for work.

  Each day I wander around the empty house, making myself tea and toast, taking long showers, mourning over photo albums. Tom was such a cute baby. Maybe I do want to have a baby …

  Nights are busier; any one of Tom’s sisters might pop by, kids cry and are comforted as the pots and pans of dinner clash about. Sisters cry and are comforted, washing up the same pots and pans afterwards. Nobody comes into Tom’s room except Janelle with a pile of laundry once. She tuts at the state of the bed, but doesn’t move to make it, thank the gods because I’m still lying in it, covers up to my chin, my eyes following her around the room like one of those spooky paintings which always seem to look at you no matter where you stand.

  Tom never comes home. I never hear him mentioned. It’s as if he never existed and was the grand creation of my brain. But I could never take credit for such a boy. He was beyond Adonis. I cry for him again and again; and then again and again. I have to flip the tear-soaked pillow a billion times.

  But the crying must stop. Jordan has come for me.

  It’s such a shock to see Jordan walk into the room with Janelle, I almost yell out.

  Janelle starts rooting around the drawers of Tom’s desk. ‘Sorry love, I can’t see it,’ she says.

  Jordan has her arms outstretched and is feeling her way around the room. ‘That’s okay, maybe he took it with him.’ She leans over Tom’s bed where I’m lying and starts patting it down.

  It’s too late to move. I’m not sure I want to. She must be here for me. It’s too much of a coincidence.

  Suddenly I’m found. ‘I knew it!’ she whispers. She’s tugging on my shirt. ‘Come. Now.’ A direct order.

  ‘What’s that?’ Janelle asks.

  ‘Nothing, just checking he wasn’t reading the book in bed. But it’s not here. Don’t worry, I’ll grab it off him later. I’m so sorry to bother you.’ She gives my shirt one last tug and leaves, pushing the door wide open behind her. She wants me to follow.

  I’m reluctant to leave Tom’s room. It’s like I’m giving up hope. But Jordan is here. She’s here for me! It’s kind of a miracle. I’ve got to find out what’s going on.

  Instead of taking the hallway, I slip out the side door and exit through the courtyard, my heart despairing just a little at still no sign of Bluto, and then I’m over the wall. The sunshine feels good on my face. Jordan is right. It’s time to go.

  Jordan is saying farewell to Janelle at the front door and I’m surprised to see Felix in the passenger seat of his mother’s red sedan, which is parked out the front. So Felix planned this rescue mission? His brain is worth more than a right hook.

  ‘You’re here, Olive?’ Jordan mutters as she reaches the car. Janelle is standing at the door watching and waving.

  ‘You came for me!’ I wrap my arms around her. ‘You know I’m real!’

  I’m so happy I want to jig.

  ‘Yeah, a real pain-in-the-ass,’ she says, but the corner of her mouth turns up. ‘Get in.’ She holds the door open while I scramble in over the driver’s seat and sit on Felix’s lap. There is a backseat in this car, but he doesn’t complain.

  He hugs me. ‘You’re such an idiot.’

  I deserve that. ‘And you can get a girl out of trouble,’ I say, elbowing him.

  ‘This plan was all Jordan,’ he replies.

  Jordan starts up the car. ‘You found me,’ she objects.

  ‘It wasn’t hard, Rose told me where you lived.’

  ‘So the three of you planned this together?’ I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so loved. I’ve got people! Real people who care.

  ‘It was fun,’ Felix says. ‘Especially telling Jordan you were real.’

  Jordan snorts. ‘I always knew she was real.’

  My heart does tumble-turns in my chest. ‘You did?’

  ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I told you the other night. And when Felix told me you’d disappeared over some guy, it was such a drama-queen Olive move, I knew he was telling the truth.’

  I’m furious and thrilled at the same time. She always knew!

  ‘He’s not just some guy,’ I object. ‘He’s a mesmerisingly scrumptious one. Smashing blue eyes, perfect smile, muscles to make your heart corrode. Total dreamboat.’ I sink back against Felix. ‘I feel limp just thinking about him.’

  ‘Yeah, not a drama queen at all …’ Felix says.

  ‘Well he might be a dreamboat, but you’re about as helpful as the Titanic,’ Jordan says. ‘Your sister has been so worried—’

  Jordan takes a breath to continue but I cut her off with the most genuine apology I can verbally construct because it’s true, I have been a pain and I should have called Rose.

  ‘I’m so sorry. You are completely right. I am a heartless beast. I deserve to be flayed.’

  Jordan snorts and Felix laughs.

  ‘I’m just a lost soul with a side salad of bitter,’ I lament.

  ‘I knew my imagination wasn’t good enough to dream you up,’ Jordan says, frowning at the road ahead.

  We have to refuel before we return the car, so Felix’s mum doesn’t realise it’s been used. I’m impressed by my friends’ cunning. First tracking each other down, then devising a plan to rescue me from my own misery. It’s classy detective work. No wonder they’re my friends.

  The thought tugs at my heart. Finally Jordan and I are real friends, not imaginary ones. It’s the best feeling in the world.

  Jorda
n gets out and slams the door after bemoaning the fact she is the only one who can drive or pump the gas, or do ‘anything at all useful’.

  It makes Felix grin. ‘I can see why you two get along.’

  ‘I seem to bring out the feisty in her.’

  ‘No, she’s great. She wouldn’t rest until we’d hunted you down,’ Felix says, shifting under me. I’m probably giving him dead-legs.

  ‘I wonder how long I would have stayed in Tom’s bedroom if you didn’t come.’ I slip onto Jordan’s seat, leaving my feet in his lap. ‘Talk about embarrassing. Sorry to drag you into it.’

  ‘You didn’t drag me into it, I rescued you—I’m your knight in shining armour.’

  ‘Thanks Lancelot,’ I scoff.

  He laughs and flicks my toes. ‘Anyway, give yourself a break, life hasn’t dealt you the easiest hand.’

  ‘Life was pretty threadbare before I had Tom,’ I admit. ‘But it’s no excuse. You can’t glue yourself to someone and expect them to make everything better. It’s up to me to make myself happy,’ I say bravely.

  ‘Ah, independent Olive.’

  ‘Independence is a bad thing?’

  ‘If you use it as a defence mechanism …’

  ‘Don’t give me your psycho-babble.’

  ‘I’m just saying, it’s okay to be upset about Tom. It’s okay that you were attached to him. He was your first love.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I shut my eyes and think of Tom. ‘I chose thirty-three days of solitude instead of talking to him. Who does that?’

  Felix doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Independent Olive.’

  I sigh. ‘Maybe you’re onto something.’

  I watch Jordan screwing on the petrol cap. Tom has left me and I can’t even be angry with him because he’s right, our life together would be impossible. I was impossible. I open the door a crack, yelling, ‘Can you get some gum?’ to Jordan as she walks in to pay.

  ‘You’re loving this aren’t you?’ I say a moment later to Felix. ‘Counselling me, knowing all the right things to say, yada, yada, yada …’