The Night Olivia Fell

by Christina McDonald

  “Hello, Olivia, darling.” She air-kissed me on both cheeks like we were European royalty. She always did that, put on airs. Maybe it was where Madison got her snobbiness. “My goodness! Look at your hair!”

  I grinned and twirled like a ballerina. “D’you like it?”

  She tilted her head to the side and looked at me intently. “I do. It suits your bone structure.”

  I beamed, pleased. “Thanks.”

  I followed her into the house, shrugging out of my jacket and hanging it on the coatrack by the door.

  Uniformed caterers and black-and-white-clad waiters carried giant trays of food from the kitchen to a linen-draped table in the backyard.

  I peeked at one tray: fat wedges of cheese on pale crackers, a crystal bowl filled with suspicious-looking black balls, fire-engine-red chilies stuffed with cream cheese, massive green olives bloated with garlic wedges. And the smell . . . it was divine.

  “Looks amazing, Dr. Stokes,” I said. My stomach growled, and I crossed my hands over my middle and laughed, embarrassed.

  “Madison!” she called down the hall.

  I cringed, nerves fluttering in my stomach. Madison appeared like a wraith from the hallway a few seconds later.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Her inky eyes scraped across my face. I peeked at Dr. Stokes, wondering if she could sense the tension between us, but she’d already wandered away, flapping her hands and saying something to the caterers. She was like that, though, totally self-absorbed.

  Madison hitched one hip against the dining room table and leaned an arm on the chair while she looked at me.

  “Your hair’s short,” she said. I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a criticism.

  “Yeah.” I touched the strawberry-shortcake-pink tips self-consciously. “I wanted a change.”

  “Well, you got it.” A flash of sadness broke across the tight anger etched into her face.

  “Mad—”

  “Oh, hey, babe.” Derek appeared from the kitchen and grinned at me. A lock of hair hung over his eye and I wanted to brush it away, to feel the warm skin of his forehead. For a moment everyone else, including Madison, simply disappeared.

  “Wow! Your hair looks amazing!” He fingered the tips of my hair. “I really like the pink highlights. Very punk.”

  Madison shoved away from the table and glared at us.

  “Found a crowbar big enough to get the knife out of my back yet?” she snarled acidly. The comment was directed at both of us, but her eyes aimed at me. Derek stepped between us, catching the glare like a sword to the chest.

  “For fuck’s sake, Madison,” he said, eyes glowing fiercely. “Just shut up, would you? Olivia hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  But I had. I’d betrayed my best friend and I had to fix that.

  I reached past Derek for Madison’s hand. “Please don’t be mad. I know—”

  “Whatever,” she cut me off scathingly. “You’ve told so many lies, I don’t want to hear them anymore. I hope you smother on them.”

  She huffed dramatically down the hallway. At the last second, she turned and smirked at us. “Oh,” she said, all faux innocence. “I invited Tyler here tonight. I figured it would be such a shame if he missed out this year. He is still my friend, after all.”

  And with that parting shot, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and stormed back toward the hallway.

  “But she hates Tyler!” I said to Derek, hurt mingling with incredulity.

  “Ignore her. She’s just trying to upset you. Don’t worry, she’ll get over it.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the back door. “I’m starving. Let’s go get some food, and then I want to show you something.”

  The backyard had been transformed. A canopy of lights arched over the deck; candles in delicate crystal holders were dotted around white-linen-draped tables. Next to a smoking barbecue was a sleek bar with a uniformed bartender already mixing colorful cocktails.

  Derek made a beeline for the bar, but I tugged on his hand. “Derek. Can we talk? I sorta need to tell you something.”

  “Okay, but can we eat first? I’m starving, and my dad said I could have a drink.”

  It was ages before we had another minute alone. I chatted to some kids from my school, and Derek had a few beers with his friends, so he disappeared for a while. Then my mom showed up and was predictably shocked about my hair. I could see her thoughts storming across her face, but she didn’t say anything about it—she’d never tell me off in front of people.

  A little bit later I got a text from her saying she’d gone home early, so I found Derek and tugged at his hand.

  “Derek, can we go somewhere and talk?” I murmured.

  “Oh yeah, sorry,” he said. His eyes were glassy, and I could tell he was buzzed from the beer. “Hey, I have something for you. I made it and I think I want to give it to you now.”

  “Okay, let’s go to your room, yeah?” I said.

  We sneaked around the side of the house to Derek’s bedroom door. The party was in full swing now that night had descended, neighbors and friends around town streaming into the backyard, exclaiming over the beauty of the décor and debating whether it was warm enough to dive into the swimming pool. Uniformed waiters meandered through the thickening crowd with appetizers and tall, bubbling glasses of champagne.

  Derek pulled me inside and shut the door, the thrum of the crowd immediately turning to a low murmur. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me full on the lips, his mouth tasting of beer and barbecue sauce.

  “Here.” He pulled a blanket off his bed, spreading it on the floor like a picnic blanket.

  “So, what’d you want to show me?” I asked.

  “Ahhh. So the lady is curious.” The beer had made Derek extra goofy, and I debated for a second whether I should wait until he was sober to tell him about the baby.

  “Very curious,” I said, smiling.

  “Okay, but look, it’s just something, I mean, if you don’t like it, that is, you don’t have to like it—”

  “Derek, I’m sure I’ll love it.” I hid a smile. He was so cute when he got nervous.

  He nodded and disappeared down the dark hallway at the back of the room, emerging a moment later with a wooden ten-by-twelve picture frame. He flipped the frame to face me.

  “I said one day I’d draw you,” he said quietly. “I’ve been working on it the last few weeks.”

  “Derek!” I gasped. The portrait was beautiful. He’d sketched me in black and white charcoal, the lines delicate yet flowing. My right hand was bent under my chin, my hair long, smoothed on either side of my face. My lips were dark, glistened with shadow, just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners. But it was my eyes he’d captured best.

  They were pensive, wide and luminous, peeking at him through long lashes. He’d somehow exposed a vulnerability I’d never seen in myself before. At first glance I looked dreamy, wistful, an aura of fragility about me. But on second glance, I could tell it was more specific than that. Derek had drawn me in love.

  “It was that day, you know, our first time together in bed, and you looked at me, and the look you gave me, I’ve never forgotten it.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, I was so full of emotion. I reached for the frame and Derek started to babble in the lengthening silence. I traced a finger across the portrait.

  “You don’t have to put it up or anything, you know, if you don’t like it or whatever.” He reached one hand over his head and rubbed his neck, looking uncomfortable.

  I put my finger on his mouth and leaned in and kissed him.

  “It’s beautiful.” I looked again at the portrait. “It’s seriously, absolutely beautiful.”

  I glanced at the darkened hallway. “Is that what you do back there, then? Draw?”

  “Yeah. It’s sort of my art studio.” Derek shrugged, embarrassed.

  “I love it.” I kissed him again. “And I love you. Thank you.”

  His shoulders lowered and he exhaled. “So, what
did you want to tell me?”

  “Oh.” I shook my head, trying to change gear. “Here, sit down.”

  He leaned the frame against the foot of his bed and sat cross-legged in front of me.

  “I don’t know how to tell you. . . .”

  “There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

  As if it were that easy.

  “Okay.” I exhaled through pursed lips, then inhaled deeply through my nose.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  × × ×

  I don’t know how long we sat there like mirror-image yogis. Derek had turned a disturbing shade of gray, not one syllable or drop of sound dribbling from him. Time ticked by at an excruciating pace.

  Finally he spoke, his voice low and tight: “What are you, we, what are we going to do about it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I mean, I have some money saved. We could—”

  I cut him off. “I’m keeping the baby, Derek.”

  “Olivia.” He shook his head, blotches of red rising to his cheeks. “Fuck!” He shook his head again and rubbed both hands over his eyes. “I’m starting college and . . . Fuck! My parents! I can’t . . .”

  Irritation slid up my spine, mingling with a nervous sweat that had broken out along the skin at my back. Upstairs, the doorbell gonged, then I heard a shout of laughter from Madison. A second later I recognized the low rumble of another voice. Tyler.

  I jumped up, tears burning my eyes.

  “I thought you’d be different, but you’re just like Gavin,” I said quietly. Then I turned and ran up the stairs.

  “Olivia!” he shouted behind me. But he didn’t come after me, and that in itself was a slap in the face.

  I threw open the door and burst into the living room. Madison, Peter, and Dan turned, surprised at the interruption. Madison narrowed her eyes at me. Peter shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, while Dan openly leered at me.

  “Is Tyler here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he’s here,” Madison drawled. She folded her arms over her chest and jutted one hip out.

  “Do you know where he went?”

  She glanced at Peter, who shrugged and looked away. Finally Dan spoke: “He probably went to find his girlfriend.”

  I flushed, embarrassed. I could tell he’d slid the last part in to upset me.

  “Oh.” I chewed a corner of my cheek. I needed to speak to Tyler. We’d never really broken up. Even after Madison told me he was going to break up with me, we just didn’t talk about it.

  But now I needed to tell him the truth. It was all going to come out anyway: Derek and me, the baby. It would be better if Tyler heard it from me. And I was sick of hiding everything.

  “Excuse me,” I muttered. I grabbed my coat from the coatrack and let myself out.

  I hustled down the driveway past Tyler’s red Jeep Renegade, but I didn’t see him, or his new girlfriend, whoever she was.

  I shivered. The temperature had dropped. I walked down the incline to the bridge, the dark of night folding around me. It was so black I might have fallen into the sky, the only light the twinkling of peekaboo stars that flashed intermittently through the boughs of the evergreens.

  I debated for an extra second whether or not to take the shortcut through the forest. Mom wouldn’t like me walking that way in the dead of night. But I just wanted to be home, so I headed over the ZigZag Bridge toward the inclined shortcut that led to my house.

  Beneath my feet the river roared angrily. I was gazing over the edge of the bridge at the turbulence of the muddy water, which was why I didn’t see them until I got to the embankment on the far side. When I looked up, there was Tyler, clasped tightly in the arms of another girl.

  It took me a second to realize who the other girl was, and when I did I gasped out loud.

  “Kendall!”

  They broke apart abruptly. Kendall stumbled a little to the side, and Tyler grasped her arm to keep her from falling over. She giggled, her head lolling back for a second before straightening. It took her a long moment to focus on my face. Was she wasted?

  “Oh! Hi, Oliiiiiviiiaaa,” she slurred. “My lllong-lllost sister!” Her eyebrows crinkled in sudden confusion. “What are yooouuuu doing here?”

  I looked at Tyler. A Cheshire cat grin was embossed on his face. I knew suddenly, with certainty, that he’d set this up to make me jealous. The idea of him going to such great lengths, using Kendall in this way, nauseated me.

  “Tyler, why are you doing this?” I shook my head, disgusted.

  “Doing what, Olivia?” Tyler asked innocently.

  I sighed, exasperated with his games. “You need to take Kendall home right now.”

  “Whaaat? No way!” Kendall piped up. “We’re only juushhht starting. Tyler rescued me from my dad’s reeeaaaalllly boring campaign dinner. Anyway, thisshh is way more fun!” She threw an arm around Tyler’s shoulder and slurped messily at his neck. God, she was totally blackout!

  “Kendall, Tyler was my boyfriend. Remember when you were at my house, and I told you it was complicated?” I pointed at Tyler. “He’s why.”

  It took Kendall a moment to grasp what I was saying. Then her arm fell from Tyler’s neck and she stepped away from him, her eyes blazing.

  “What the actual fuck? Were you jusssht using me to get at her? You fucking dick!” She shoved at him, but was too drunk to move him. He didn’t take his eyes off mine.

  “You are sshhheriously messed up.” She swayed on her feet. “I’m going back to the car. You’d better take me home.” Kendall stormed unsteadily in the direction of the Stokeses’ house.

  The silence expanded between Tyler and me like a widening oil spill, but there was nothing else to say right now—I was too furious. I brushed past him and headed home.

  “Olivia, we need to talk,” he called from behind me.

  I sighed and turned around, pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time. The battery icon flashed at me; it was about to die. And I only had five minutes before curfew.

  I hesitated. He was right, we did need to talk. But it would have to wait. If I wasn’t home before curfew my mom would send the cops out looking for me.

  A wave of exhaustion crashed into me. I just wanted to go to bed.

  “We can talk tomorrow, Tyler,” I said tiredly. “Right now I just have to get home.”

  And with that, I turned and walked away.

  40

  * * *

  ABI

  november

  The rain had continued to fall while we were at Noah’s. The pavement was slick and black, the orange orbs of the streetlights smeared against the darkening sky. The charcoal gray of evening descended quickly into the blackness of night as we drove north on I-5 toward Portage Point.

  Samson had insisted we leave my car at Noah’s.

  “You’re in no condition to drive,” she said. “Parking’s free overnight. We’ll get your car in the morning.”

  I wanted to argue, but something horrible buzzed deep in my head. Something like anger, only worse, like tar seeping into my head or a swarm of black flies feeding off my brain. My hands trembled and my breathing came fast and shallow. So I climbed in the front passenger seat.

  Somehow I’d missed Tyler in all this. I’d been a fool. He’d seemed so absolutely eviscerated by his loss. But I knew better than anyone that you could love someone and still hurt them.

  I ran back through every moment of our conversations: when he’d come to my house a couple days after Olivia’s fall, then again in the school parking lot. He’d said he was at the barbecue that night, and Madison had backed him up. But he must’ve slipped away when nobody was looking. The truth I’d missed flashed like fire at the back of my eyes.

  The drive home seemed to last forever and go by in a blink at the same time.

  We exited I-5 and wound along the sea. Night had pulled a black curtain over the sky, making the surf barely visible beyond the charcoal shoreline.

  Samson’s phone ran
g and she answered it, murmuring “okay” a few times, throwing a glance at me, then hanging up.

  “That was Gavin Montgomery,” she said. “He said he left the campaign dinner early because he went upstairs to a hotel room with a waitress.”

  “At his own campaign dinner? Jesus!” I exclaimed. “How did his wife not notice?”

  “He said he wasn’t gone long. A half hour, tops. When he got back, Kendall was gone. So was Tyler.”

  “They left together?”

  “He told me to speak to his lawyer, but that’s what I’m thinking.”

  I chewed my lip. “Do you believe him?”

  “We’ll question Tyler and Kendall. And we’ll follow up on Gavin’s whereabouts, speak to the waitress independently to verify it, but I’m sure he knows that.”

  “You all right?” Anthony asked from the backseat.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I just . . .” I glanced back at him. “I’m not sure what Gavin has to do with all this.”

  Anthony didn’t reply, but I knew what he was thinking. Maybe he wasn’t involved. Maybe I’d let myself be biased against Gavin from the start.

  I thought hard, trying to make sense of what I knew so far, aligning the facts and making them into a coherent theory. The problem was, I had yet to piece together the facts of Olivia’s fall.

  Samson took the next turn, her headlights sweeping across the web of sharply bending roads that followed the contours of Portage Point toward Tyler’s mom’s house. After a few minutes we plunged down the steep hill that led to the ZigZag River. We careened around that last corner, and there it was, the intricate metal suspension of the ZigZag Bridge gleaming in the harsh yellow streetlights.

  And there, sitting on the low cement wall at the edge of the bridge’s pedestrian walkway, as if he knew we were coming, was Tyler.

  × × ×

  Tyler squinted as our headlights raked across his face. Gravel pinged the underbelly of the car as Samson whipped the steering wheel to the left and skidded onto the shoulder.