Olive Oil and White Bread

by Georgia Beers

  Jillian’s sigh was filled with annoyance. “Just leave it. I’ve got it.”

  Angie tried to shake the memory away. “I hate it when she’s mad at me.”

  “I get that,” Shay said with a nod.

  “It just seems like lately, she’s always mad. You know? She’s got a really short temper and I feel like I’ve got to tiptoe around her sometimes, but I have no idea why.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  Angie almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that suggestion. First of all, Jillian was just like her mother—though she’d never admit it. She held things in. Bottled them up. She let Angie try to figure out what was wrong. “If I ask her, she’ll just say it’s nothing.”

  “Typical woman,” Shay said, reaching across to playfully push at Angie’s shoulder.

  “Right?” Angie grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Angie wasn’t sure what was going on, if Jillian was still annoyed about her hours. Boy, had that become an old argument. And yes, Angie was still working hard, still working long hours, but she was making really good money. They were able to afford nice things, including this house.

  Angie had been looking at houses on a whim. Over the past few months, she’d noticed herself paying close attention to “For Sale” signs whenever she was out on a call. There were neighborhoods she really liked, houses less cramped, streets with more privacy, properties that had less of a city and more of a suburban feel. She began to think maybe it was time for them to make that move—to the suburbs. Bigger, better. She didn’t go intentionally looking. She just started to observe.

  This wasn’t the first house that caught her eye. It was more like the fourth or fifth. But it was definitely the best. In the suburbs, on almost two acres, far enough from the city to see the stars. There were four bedrooms, enough for a guest room and a studio for Jillian. A finished basement, a formal dining room, a brand new kitchen, a big yard for Boo. She’d called Jillian’s brother Brian, and he got her an appointment. It was perfect. She felt it, and she wanted Jillian to feel it too.

  Convincing her wasn’t easy.

  “Why do we need to move?” she’d asked.

  “We don’t need to. But don’t you think it’s time?”

  “What does that mean? ‘It’s time.’ I don’t understand. Is this because Dom and Pam have a new house?”

  “No. Of course not.” Angie bristled at the comparison. “I just thought maybe a change would be good.” Angie searched for the right words. “This is what couples do when they grow up, you know?” Her laugh came unbidden at the reference to their age. “They move to bigger houses. They move out of the city, away from the hustle and bustle to someplace nicer, more peaceful.”

  “It just seems kind of, I don’t know, unnecessary,” Jillian shrugged, but Angie could tell she was at least entertaining the idea.

  “Just take a look with me.” Angie grabbed her hands. “Come on, baby. We can afford to have a bigger place. Why shouldn’t we?”

  “All right,” Jillian allowed as her smile broke through. “But only to look.”

  That was all Angie had needed: Jillian making a visit.

  The rest was history.

  Their new house was at the end of a cul-de-sac in a nice, quiet neighborhood that straddled the line between suburbs and country. Angie loved that. She loved the idea of driving home from work and watching the office buildings and stores become parks and farms and fields. Unlike their house in the city, the neighbors here were a good distance away. They wouldn’t be looking out their bathroom window and into the window of a bedroom next door. They had space now. Privacy. Peace and quiet.

  “I’m going to have a chat with her,” Shay said, yanking Angie back to the present. She shot a wink over her shoulder and followed Jillian’s path up the stairs.

  Angie inhaled deeply, blew out her breath slowly. Yes, the house was perfect. Now if she could only find a way to make it so with everything else.

  “Hey.” Shay found Jillian in a bedroom tapping a finger against her lips, scrutinizing a wall.

  Jillian blinked several times as if coming out of a trance. “Oh, hey, you.” She stepped towards the doorway and wrapped her arms around her much shorter friend. “I’m ignoring you. I’m sorry. Arranging the furniture on the fly is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “You don’t have to get it all right today, you know.”

  “I know. I just like things to be somewhat in order.”

  Shay nodded, then pointed to different parts of the room. “I think the dresser there, I like where the bed is, nightstands, and maybe the other dresser . . . here?”

  Jillian considered the suggestion. “You might be right.” As two movers came in carrying a large dresser, she pointed them in the direction Shay had chosen, then gave one nod of affirmation. “Perfect.” Turning back to her friend, she asked, “Where’s Laura?”

  Shay’s dark eyes slid away from hers. “Oh, she had some stuff to take care of.”

  Jillian studied her face and softened her entire stance when she caught the look of uncertainty zip across. “Hey.” Shay’s arm was strong under her fingers. “Are you all right?”

  Shay met her gaze, raw confusion in her expression. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “Come here.” Jillian took Shay’s hand and led her to the foot of the bed where they sat on the bare mattress. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Shay said again, then blew out a breath of frustration. “Laura’s been kind of weird lately. She’s quiet, a little distant. We’re not talking like we used to. Something’s not right.”

  “Have you asked her about it?”

  Shay scoffed. “I’ve touched on it, but she brushes me off.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Honestly, Jill, I don’t think I want to know.”

  Seeing her old friend so emotional worried Jillian, it was so uncommon. Shay was stoic, tough, no-nonsense. Jillian wanted to skirt the issue but she asked anyway, “Do you think she’s having an affair?”

  A half-sob escaped Shay’s throat. “I don’t know what else it could be.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Jillian pulled Shay close, hugged her tightly as quiet tears flowed. They stayed like that for several long minutes, Jillian silently pointing to direct the occasional mover who appeared with a box.

  Finally, Shay sat up, wiped her wet, blotchy face, and gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “God, I hate this. I feel like a twelve-year-old.”

  “Sweetie, you’re hurting. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  A breath in, a breath out. Shay looked in Jillian’s eyes. “What do I do?”

  “You need to talk to her.”

  “Ugh.”

  “I know. It won’t be easy. But you need to know what’s going on and what you’re up against. Right?”

  “Probably.”

  “Shay.” Jillian took her hands. “If you do nothing, nothing will change,” and she thought bitterly over how little improvement had taken place in her own relationship.

  “You’re right.” A bitter laugh. “I know you’re right. But . . . what if she is having an affair?”

  “Well, that’ll suck.” Their gazes held until they both laughed. “But you’ll know, and you’ll be able to decide what you want to do.” Her shrug said, What other option is there?

  It was nearly nine o’clock before Jillian and Angie were alone in their new house. Physical exhaustion rivaled emotional as they took paper plates of pizza, cans of beer, and Boo up to their new master bedroom. They collapsed on the still unmade bed, leaning their backs against the wall.

  “Oh, my god, I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. I don’t know if even I have the energy to chew this pizza.”

  Jillian laughed. “I’m too hungry not to, but there will be no strength left to make the bed. Hope you don’t mind sleeping on a bare mattress under a comforter.”

  “I could sleep on the basement floor right about now.”

  Even Boo seemed too tired to show
any interest in their food. She turned in a circle twice at the foot of the bed and settled down to sleep.

  They ate in silence. Jillian looked around the room as she chewed, finally pronouncing, “I like this room.”

  With a nod, Angie agreed. “Me, too. It’s got a good feel, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s the windows. All the light. And I like this tan on the walls. I know I talked about painting it, but I think I’d like to keep it. It looks like melted chocolate ice cream.”

  “It does.” They ate some more, then Angie said, “I think this house was meant for us.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “I’m not sure.” Squinching her eyes up in thought didn’t help Angie find the right words. “It’s just a feeling. I had it as soon as we walked in the first time.”

  “I like that.” Jillian grinned. “All I can say is, I’m so glad we didn’t move in the dead of winter this time.”

  “Who says we don’t learn from our mistakes?” Angie laughed, and they tapped their beer cans together in solidarity.

  They ate their pizza in companionable silence for several long moments before one of them spoke again

  “Shay thinks Laura’s cheating on her.” Jillian wasn’t even aware she’d been thinking about it until the words blurted out of her mouth.

  Angie’s head snapped around. “What?”

  Jillian nodded. “She’s worried.”

  “Oh, man. That’s rough. Do you think she is?”

  “You know her better than I do.”

  “I know, but we’ve kind of drifted.” Angie shrugged.

  “Well, I do know Shay. She’s not the kind of person to worry needlessly. Of course, I’ve never seen her so head over heels for somebody the way she is for Laura, so maybe she’s overreacting.” She sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, all we can do is be there for them. Her. Them.” Angie grimaced. “I hope it’s a big misunderstanding. I don’t want to have to pick sides.”

  “We wouldn’t,” Jillian said, then looked at Angie. “Would we?”

  Angie lifted one shoulder. “Wouldn’t we?”

  “I have no idea. I say we cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it.”

  “Deal. Let’s talk about our new house some more instead.”

  Jillian was surprised that despite their exhaustion, Angie unpacked a couple small boxes as they talked, setting the marketing and business books she’d recently purchased on her nightstand. She’d been reading a lot of that type of thing lately, Jillian had noticed, and she regarded them warily.

  When Angie settled back down, they spent a while longer talking about each individual room, paint colors, furniture arrangement, future remodeling projects, and other changes they hoped to make. The ideas would have energized Jillian if she hadn’t been so bone tired already. Her summer break had just started, though, and she had two long months with nothing to do but work on her new house. And maybe her art.

  “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to head over to Home Depot and grab a ton of paint swatches. Are you sure you need to go in to work? We could look at colors.” Jillian poked out her bottom lip, earning the intended playful reprimand from Angie.

  “Hey, don’t use the boo-boo face on me. I only have to go in for a couple hours. If I get a few things off my plate, Monday will be that much easier for me, and we can look at colors then. Okay?”

  “Fine.” Jillian continued to work the pout until Angie laughed. Plates aside and beer cans drained, they sat in silence, Boo’s soft snuffling the only sound in the room. Jillian leaned her head on Angie’s shoulder and said quietly, “I wish my mom was here. She’d really like this place.”

  Angie wrapped an arm around her. “You think so?”

  With a nod, Jillian said, “She always liked this neighborhood, and she’d love the layout of the house. She was great with interior design. I wish she could’ve helped. Don’t you?”

  “Of course. Especially since she never came to our last house.”

  Jillian sighed. “I know. Who knows if she would’ve even come here? Still. I wish she could.”

  Angie pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “She’s with you, honey. Don’t get me wrong, she hates that you live here with me, but she knows it’s a great house.”

  Jillian laughed, which—she knew—was Angie’s intention.

  “It was really cool of your dad and brother to stop by. I think your dad liked the place.”

  That remark kept the smile on Jillian’s face. “I think he did, too. And I think Brian was really glad you called him.”

  “So was I.”

  Jillian snuggled down into the comforter. “Time for sleep. Tomorrow is all about color.”

  Eighteen

  Blue was not Jillian’s favorite color, but there’d been something about the serene, almost slate-like shade she had ended up choosing for her studio. Now, as she sat at her desk facing the window, looking out at the lush green of the trees in the backyard and surrounded by the peaceful blue, she felt weirdly artistic. Full of creativity. She’d woken up that morning with the burning desire to sketch with charcoal.

  She didn’t try to analyze it when the creative bug hit. That lesson was learned a long time ago. Don’t question it, just go. Just do.

  Sarah McLachlan crooned softly from the stereo in the corner. Boo was curled up on her fluffy dog bed, her big paws with the white nails cradling her chin. Jillian spun in her chair, sketchbook on her knee, and went to work, because really, there was no better subject than her beloved pup. She smiled as she worked, changing charcoal thickness, smudging with her fingertip to shade where necessary. Boo’s flanks were hard to get just right. Her nose was easy. Her paws were tough, her ears a bit simpler.

  It was early August and hot. Not a fan of air conditioning and how it dried her sinuses, Jillian found herself thankful this house had it. She never cranked it, and she couldn’t understand people who did. Angie told her that Keith at work was always turning the a/c down to 65 degrees. That’s not even warm enough in the winter, Angie would say. Why is that acceptable in the summer? The office is freezing! Jillian agreed and set the house a/c at a comfortable 75.

  Boo shifted in her sleep before Jillian was completely done with the picture, but it was okay. She could wing it the rest of the way. She didn’t want to stop. Something about the sound, the smell, the feel of charcoal against the paper, the blackening of her fingertips, made Jillian feel more relaxed than anything else. It didn’t matter to her that she wasn’t a terrific artist. She was okay, and that was good enough. She felt at peace when she was drawing or painting. That was all that mattered.

  When the ringtone on her new cell phone sounded, it took Jillian a moment to realize what is was, then where it was. Angie had just purchased it for her, telling her it was a really good thing to have in an emergency, but Jillian still wasn’t used to it. She never remembered to carry it with her, causing Angie to point out more than once that having it with her was sort of key to having it help during an emergency. Jillian was working on it.

  Following the electronic-sounding ringtone brought her to her dresser in the bedroom, and she picked up just in time to keep the call from going into her voicemail—which was a good thing because she had no idea how to retrieve her messages.

  “Hello?”

  “Misplace your cell again?” Shay’s voice was tight, but held the hint of a smile.

  “I don’t know why she thinks I have to have one of these. I don’t travel for work. I don’t go very many places without her. If I’m not at the school, I’m here. Why didn’t you just call the house?”

  “I was testing you. You barely passed.”

  Jillian snorted.

  “Mark my words, everybody’s going to have one of these things.”

  “I know. I’m a relic.” Jillian chuckled. “How are you?” She glanced at the clock, saw that it was still before noon, an unusual time for Shay to be calling. “You have today off?”

  The clearing of her t
hroat told Jillian something was off with her friend. “No, I’m at work. I just needed to hear a friendly voice.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  This time, it sounded like Shay sniffled before she cleared her throat again. Jillian recognized it as an attempt to keep emotion at bay. “I was right about Laura,” Shay said softly.

  “Oh, Shay. Oh, no.”

  “Yeah. She’s been seeing somebody else. She wants out.” Shay sniffed.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “Can you meet me for lunch?”

  “Of course. Tell me when and where.”

  That night at dinner, Angie kept shaking her head and muttering, “I don’t believe it.” She sipped her wine, took a bite of her chicken, shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I know,” Jillian said with a nod.

  “Did she give any reason?”

  Jillian spooned some potatoes onto her plate and blew out a loud breath. “Just that Shay works too much, they’ve drifted apart, that she’s felt that way for a long time.”

  “Well, Jesus Christ, how ’bout you talk about it instead of fucking somebody else?”

  “Pretty sure that’s how Shay feels too.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Jillian chewed for a moment, then said, “Laura never called you about it? Never said anything?”

  “Not a thing. Frankly, I’m a little miffed about that, too. I mean, I know I said we’ve drifted some, but we’re still friends, for Christ’s sake. Maybe I could have helped set her straight before she did something stupid.” She was quiet for a beat, then added, “She’s seemed distant lately. I did notice that, but really didn’t think anything of it. Now I wish I’d called her on it.”

  “I don’t know that it would have made any difference. Shay said she’s totally made up her mind. Doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to see a counselor. Nothing. She wants out so she can be with this other person.”

  “And do we know this other person?”

  Jillian shrugged. “I have no idea. Somebody from her office building, I think.”

  “God, poor Shay.”

  “I told her she was welcome to stay here if she needed to, at least until Laura gets her stuff out of the house. That’s okay, right?”