Hope in a Jar

by Beth Harbison

  “I was leaving,” Olivia said. She couldn’t have taken the edge off her voice if she’d tried. “Good to see you, Vickie. Tell Noah I’ll talk to him later in the week.”

  She walked away without giving Vickie the chance to pull her back into conversation. When she’d gone far enough, she turned around and watched Vickie hook up with the unmistakable figure of Todd Reigerberg. It was like a bad spy movie. Vickie walked past him, slowing as she did so; his mouth moved slightly and then it was as if he counted to three before following her outside.

  Olivia was tempted to slip out after them and see what they were up to. It could have been anything, of course. She might be an informant for a story he was working on, for example, or an anonymous source. For that matter, it could have been a drug deal. Or maybe he was selling his car.

  But as far as Olivia was concerned, it looked like it was very obviously a romantic rendezvous.

  Should she tell Noah? Twenty years ago, there would have been no question, but he was a grown man and she had enough faith in him to trust he knew what he was doing. Maybe he and Vickie had an open relationship. Maybe they didn’t even have a relationship, per se, so much as an arrangement.

  Olivia had had arrangements before.

  Whatever the case, she couldn’t picture a scenario in which she wouldn’t embarrass Noah and herself by speculating wildly about his girlfriend.

  Chances were very good that he would tell her to mind her own damn business and he would be right.

  Besides, this relationship was obviously a passing thing. He didn’t take it seriously enough to tell his friends about it before now. If she knew Noah—and she thought she did—he was way too smart to be fooled by Vickie Freedman.

  “I’m sorry,” Allie said, through unattractive sniffles. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Of course it’s your life and if you want to fuck the whole thing up by dating a parasite like Vickie Freedman, you have every right to.”

  Noah laughed softly. “Thanks, pal. I knew you’d understand.”

  “Oh, Noah!” She threw herself into his arms. He smelled good. Just like always. Like soap and water and some sort of Mountain Fresh laundry detergent. How could he be so stupid when he smelled so sensible? “I’m sorry I can’t be a better friend.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes.

  “You’re a great friend, Al. Maybe not to Tori—”

  Allie made a noise of disgust. “Vickie.”

  He ignored that. “But since you’re not the one seeing her, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like you’ll ever see her.”

  Allie gave him a look.

  “Tonight’s an exception,” he said.

  “It’s not about whether I see her,” Allie said. “I’m worried about you. You’re dealing with a psychopath.”

  “You or her?”

  “Not fair. Look, you have no idea who she is. You haven’t even seen her for years.”

  “Neither have you! Jesus, Allie, you need to get out of the past.”

  “I’m not in the past, but I remember who she was and what she did.”

  “In the past.”

  “Yes. Fine. So what? Don’t you remember what she was like? Have you forgotten what she did?”

  “Well . . . yeah. I guess so. I actually don’t remember her that well at all from school.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  He shook his head. “We traveled in different circles. In fact, when we first met up again, I didn’t even recognize her.”

  “That probably had something to do with the fact that she’s had her face completely overhauled.”

  He crossed his arms in front of him. “Allie, this is stupid. This is a stupid conversation.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. “I know.” She did know. He was oblivious. High school had been a million years ago, and what had happened to Allie back then had been her problem, not his, and he had every right to be duped into thinking this admittedly pretty woman was a hot find.

  How could Allie make him see the truth when he thought he was looking at it right now?

  She fixed her eyes on the cars passing on Connecticut Avenue. “Just tell me”—she turned her gaze to Noah—“please tell me what you see in her.”

  “Jesus, Al, we’re just dating. We’ve been dating for like five minutes. This drama is too much.”

  “You hardly ever date, though, Noah. Not with your schedule. If you’ve been seeing her for three months, that means you think there’s something there and I’m here to tell you there can’t be.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t mean to offend you, but honestly, Allie, you don’t know much more about the outside world than you’re saying I do. You and Kevin were swimming around in mediocrity together for, what, two years?”

  “Yes.”

  “And before that?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Not a thing.” His expression softened and he tapped his temple with his index finger. “Think about it.”

  “I just don’t want to see you make a huge mistake, and I swear to you, Noah, if you get serious with this girl it’s going to be a huge mistake. You’ll be sorry.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, then said, “We’re just dating.”

  She swallowed with such an effort that it felt as if pride truly did have mass. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  Something here wasn’t right. The feeling she had in the pit of her stomach told her she was losing something and that she couldn’t stop it.

  Olivia was on her way out through the lobby when she saw Allie come in and head for the ladies’ room. Noah followed in a few seconds and, when he saw Olivia, came to her.

  “Hot as hell out there,” he commented, slipping two fingers in his collar and tugging it. “So do you want to tell me how awful Tori is, too? I’d like to get it all out of the way.”

  Tori. That was going to take some getting used to. Unfortunately, it seemed she was going to have time to do that. “Is that what Allie did? Told you Tori was awful?”

  He fastened his gaze on something in the distance and Olivia noticed the muscle in his jaw moving like a small, tight guitar string. “They didn’t get along, I gather.”

  “She didn’t get along with a lot of people. Vickie, I mean.” She took a short breath and corrected herself. “Tori.”

  “I don’t buy this business about who you seemed to be two decades ago meaning shit about who you are today.”

  “Were you so different then?” she challenged.

  To his credit, he looked like he thought about it before dismissing the idea. “I wouldn’t want anyone who knew me then to expect me to be the same person.”

  “You still have the same friends.”

  “Some of them.” He looked in the direction Allie had gone. “Or I did.”

  This was none of her business, but she had to say, “Be patient with Allie. This is obviously freaking her out for some reason and I don’t think it’s because she prefers you to be miserable.”

  “I don’t know what the hell she wants. She’ll probably be back with that jerk Kevin before you know it anyway.”

  “Kevin? I don’t know who that is.”

  Noah waved it away though the heat in his expression made it clear this Kevin was no friend of his. “Doesn’t matter. Are you going back in to the reunion?”

  She shook her head. “I have an early train. But it was good to see you, Noah. It’s been too long.”

  “You’ll just have to come back soon,” he said, obviously knowing she wouldn’t.

  “I will,” she said, knowing he knew she didn’t mean it.

  Then they hugged good-bye and Olivia joined the long line out front for a cab. After ten minutes the line still hadn’t moved and she felt the first drops of rain start to fall on her.

  “Do you need a ride?”

  Olivia turned around to see who it was, the voice both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

 
“Where are you staying?” Allie asked, taking her keys out of her purse. Her face was blotchy from crying but she was clearly making an effort to sound normal.

  “Wardman Park.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you a lift so you don’t have to stand in the rain.”

  “No, really, I don’t want to take you out of your way.”

  “It’s not out of my way.” Allie leveled her clear blue eyes on Olivia, and, under the circumstances, it was more uncomfortable than looking into the eyes of a former lover. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Olivia had to laugh. She’d been half expecting a soft plea, a request for a few minutes to apologize or somehow try to put the past to rest. What she got, though, had been pure Allie.

  Don’t be stupid.

  “Okay, then.” Olivia smiled and joined Allie for the short walk through the drizzle to the street.

  “I totally scored, parkingwise.” Allie held her key fob out and a blue Toyota Camry beeped to life. “God knew I’d need a quick getaway.”

  “You didn’t enjoy yourself?”

  Allie looked at her as if she’d just asked if she ate chipmunks for breakfast. “No.”

  Olivia turned her gaze to Allie. “I don’t know who really enjoys reunions.”

  They got in and Allie put the key in the ignition and started the car. “Masochists. Egotists. Vickie.”

  Olivia shrugged and looked at the road as they pulled out into traffic. “Noah doesn’t remember her. He doesn’t know what she was like.”

  “Convenient.”

  “She didn’t matter to him.”

  Allie drew to a stop at a red light and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “She seems to now,” she said, looking straight ahead.

  Olivia studied her profile. “I don’t know. I have a feeling this is a passing thing.”

  “Really?” Allie jumped on that. “Did Noah tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  A car behind them honked and Allie stepped on the gas.

  “It’s just an impression I got,” Olivia said at last, then clammed up, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

  A few blocks passed in silence, with nothing but the quiet double swish of the tires going through puddles to add punctuation to the long stretches of nothing.

  Finally, Allie asked, “So what’s new in makeup, then?”

  Olivia laughed. “Mauves.”

  “Mauves aren’t new.”

  “They are every five years or so.”

  Allie smiled and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, good. Mauves actually work with my eye color.”

  “That’s true. A strong-hued mauve, close to purple, will make your eyes look green. Of course you’ll have to wait until fall. Right now we’re still in pastels. Yuck.”

  Allie nodded enthusiastically. “I hate pastels. The other day, I tried this peach color that was supposed to look good on everyone and I looked like a corpse. Seriously.”

  “Was that the Juno Peche Glow?”

  “Yes!”

  Olivia nodded. “Bad information. That looks horrible on almost everyone.”

  “Thank goodness it wasn’t just me.”

  “Nope.” The conversation, which had had a spark for a moment, was petering out. “Not just you.”

  The silence that followed was so thick with things unsaid that by the time the Wardman Park Hotel came into view, Olivia felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  Allie drew the car up in the fire lane in front of the hotel and put it in park. “Here you are.” Was that relief in her voice? Or just the lack of anything else to say that put tension into her syllables?

  “It was good to see you again, Allie,” Olivia said. It would have been normal to make a token gesture at staying in touch, but she couldn’t do it.

  “You, too,” Allie said. “Thanks for the makeup tips.” She looked sad. It was as if the familiarity they’d once shared hung like a fog over them but there was no way to access it.

  So it wasn’t really real.

  “You’ve done really well for yourself,” Allie went on. “You must be proud.”

  “Thanks.” It was strange, but this might have been the first time anyone had ever acknowledged Olivia’s hard work and accomplishments. That was sad. There was nothing more she could think of to say. “And thanks for the ride.” There was a silence, then she said, “Look, I really do appreciate the ride. I don’t mean to make things awkward. It’s just been so long and . . . after what we went through, hating each other and all . . .”

  “I never hated you,” Allie objected, then was instantly offended. Olivia might as well have stood next to her in front of a mirror and said, God, we look so fat.

  Allie knew, obviously, they’d had a falling-out.

  But she’d never known Olivia felt actual hatred toward her.

  “I guess I’ll be going now,” she said, trying to move Olivia on.

  But Olivia felt the awkwardness she had created. “I didn’t mean hate,” she said. Then, on a sudden impulse, she dug in her purse and pulled out her business card. “Here’s my card. Drop me a line sometime, let me know how you’re doing.”

  Allie took the card. “Sure. Okay. Thanks.”

  When hell froze over she’d call.

  Too bad she didn’t know the weather forecast.

  Eight

  Ninth Grade

  Sometimes you need a little Finesse,

  sometimes you need a lot.

  —ad for Finesse shampoo

  Olivia hated the days that Allie had piano lessons because instead of their usual routine of walking from school to Allie’s, eating junk food like Steak-Umms and HoHos, and watching General Hospital, she had to go to her house.

  She walked through the crisp fall air alone, kicking the fallen leaves in front of her as she went. She liked the shushing sound and the earthy smell of them. They smelled gold and red, and all the fiery colors of a Maryland autumn.

  When she got to her house she turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. In contrast to the golden afternoon outside, everything inside seemed gray and cold. It wasn’t like the warm Technicolor explosion of the Dentys’ house.

  She flipped on the lights in the foyer and the hallway—ignoring her stepfather’s voice in her head, chastising her about wasting electricity—and went to the kitchen.

  “Hey, Flicker,” she said as she passed the birdcage. Speaking of things that set Donald off, Flicker was high on the list.

  That goddamn bird stinks.

  How long do those goddamn birds live?

  I wasn’t through with the sports page before you put it in the goddamn cage!

  Olivia walked through Donald’s house, trying to block out his voice from her mind.

  She was hungry. That was more important than Donald’s echoes.

  The fridge offered little choice. There was some raw broccoli that was going brown on the ends, some sugar-free yogurts that gave Olivia a headache, lunch meat that had turned bad a few days ago, and that strange artificial orange juice that Donald O’Brien preferred to the real thing. The freezer wasn’t much better but at least she was able to find the Birdseye mixed vegetables she liked with the buttery sauce, so she took that out and heated it on the stove while listening to Luke and Laura fighting with a Cassadine on General Hospital in the other room.

  “What is this garbage?”

  She narrowed her eyes and stopped stirring for a moment. Who was that? Luke was still talking so it was obviously a different character . . .

  Then all the sound snapped off and a figure came around the corner into the kitchen.

  “Why are all the goddamn lights on?”

  Olivia was so startled she dropped the wooden spoon she’d been using on the floor.

  “Oh!” She glanced at him furtively. “Donald.” She bent to pick up the dropped utensil.

  “It’s not like you to be clumsy,” he said, also moving forward to pick up the spoon, too cl
ose to her for comfort.

  It was as if there were heat waves rippling off him.

  Olivia took a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be.” She took the spoon in shaking hands and went to the sink to rinse it.

  “Why so skittish?” Donald asked, stepping up behind her. Once again, the heat of him came at her like an affront.

  “I’m not.” She turned and walked across the room to return the wooden spoon to its holder, even though she wasn’t quite through with it.

  “You jumped like you’d seen a ghost,” he said.

  Far from it. His skin was deeply tanned—he liked to keep it that way because he thought it made him look rich—and his age had carved deep lines into his features that looked menacing to Olivia, although she’d heard other women refer to him as handsome. He also wore his hair too long for a man his age, though he evidently thought it was cool.

  Olivia found him repulsive.

  But she couldn’t say why he made her so jumpy. She’d always been a bit nervous, trembling at the sounds of the house settling at night and imagining people would jump out at her from the darkened corners. Perhaps she’d caught too many suspenseful Movie of the Week specials on TV.

  On top of that, she and her mother were living in Donald O’Brien’s house, and even though they’d been here almost two years it still felt like it was his house. Olivia wasn’t allowed to put things on the wall of her room with thumbtacks because they would leave holes, and she shared a bathroom with Donald’s cranky old mother from Atlanta, who was a frequent visitor, and any other guest who needed a place to wash up. Therefore, signs of Olivia’s permanent residence were also forbidden there, and she had to keep her toiletries in a blue bucket in the closet.

  The house looked clean, that was certain, but she preferred the disorganized, cluttered, warm mess of Allie’s house. Thank God she had that one place in the world where she felt as if she belonged. She could even add items to Mrs. Denty’s grocery list.

  “So, again, I ask you why you’re so skittish,” Donald repeated, narrowing his eyes with implicit accusation. “Are you on something?”