by Kris Radish
Olivia dips into her vegetable fried rice—which she knows isn’t the best thing to eat if you don’t go to the gym five days a week—and watches the bare tree outside the living-room window dance in the November wind. Most people would turn on the television for company, but Olivia usually prefers the silence.
She loves the way her house talks to her. There’s always been loose roof shingles that flap against the eaves when it’s windy. The black cable that is filled with telephone, Internet, and television wires dances haphazardly against the house if there is the slightest breeze. The old refrigerator, which is about to perish, hums constantly, and has some great competition from the furnace.
She loves the sound of Phyllis’s toenails clicking on the floor, and the gentle rattle of every window when a large truck rolls past. When the next-door neighbors moved and took the old sailboat that was parked in the backyard, she missed the clanging of the rope on its center mast every time there was even the slightest breeze.
But sometimes familiarity isn’t enough. Olivia knows that she has been inching toward a huge life change for a very long time, and she has worked hard to address her own fears. New city, new house, new terrain. And all that time spread out when she could … could what? Start golfing? Join a card club? Get one of those bikes with fat tires to ride on the beach?
Well, maybe, she tells herself, wondering what the fortune cookie will say when she bites into it and pulls out the white piece of paper with a lively prediction written on it. Recently she read a story about a mess of lottery winners who discovered they had all picked their winning numbers from the same batch of fortune cookies.
Why not? Why not anything? Why not jump into change like she has suggested to her hundreds of clients? Why not sell the house to Susan from work; she’s been waiting for it for five years? Why not get three new bathing suits and get the hell out of here?
The pork and noodles Olivia starts to eat next are very spicy. She finds the two biggest pieces of meat, rolls them in her napkin to get the spices off, and then drops them quickly in front of Phyllis.
Phyllis smells the meat before it hits the floor. Where did this come from? Those little boxes? Is this a trick? She scoots forward to smell the meat and looks suspiciously at Olivia, who is eating away up there. It sure smells like meat. She licks one piece and her taste buds start dancing.
The pork is gone so fast that Phyllis is already trying to remember if she ate it. She dares not fall asleep now. Who knows what could drop out of the sky next.
“Not bad, huh,” Olivia says, bending down to look at Phyllis.
Phyllis cranks on a smile so fast her nose starts to twitch, and just like that another piece of meat appears.
But then Olivia says, “That’s it, sister. You won’t be able to fit into your bathing suit if I keep cheating with you like this.”
Phyllis remains hopeful and stays in attention mode as Olivia finishes eating and the wind shifts so that the trees are now bending east.
Olivia can’t stop thinking about Leah, Grace, Kit, and Jane for more than five minutes, it seems. Is it because they may be members of her final anger class or maybe even her final clients? Is it because she can feel herself leaning into change, thinking about things she hasn’t thought about for a white, finally falling into a person in a place she has kept waiting a very long time?
That makes more sense to Olivia right this moment than it ever has. She can understand why some people slide along for years. You’d think giving up bad habits or a lifestyle that leaves something to be desired would be easy, but not so. Olivia could continue to sit in her old chair, work another five years, and her life would be the way it has been. Busy, successful, fine, mostly full. But it wouldn’t make her rise with great joy every morning. It wouldn’t give her the laughter she has been missing, the presence of love every moment, the warm embrace only a secure and loving relationship can provide.
She’s pretty certain Kit understands this part of life. Her husband must also be a saint. Kit’s got fire in her eyes, even when she’s sad. Kit must be loved greatly, and Olivia is certain it’s a love Kit may have taken for granted.
Anger does that. It’s like a blind, unstoppable force once you let it take over your thoughts and give it rein to control your actions. Olivia knows all about that, and she still can’t believe she told the women about her own past. She hasn’t spoken about that in ages.
Maybe Olivia’s letting go of everything, too. Speaking about her past seemed to ignite something in all the women. Perhaps it made her more believable. She knows that she dresses like an old grandmother, but there’s a lot going on behind the cotton.
Phyllis is getting weak from holding her head up. Where’s the meat? Is that it? A couple of stinking pieces of pork?
She lets out a bit of air and drops her head onto the pillow. Then she turns sideways about an inch at a time, so she doesn’t have to look at Olivia when she opens her eyes. The only thing she has to hope for now is a dog treat after she goes outside, and maybe the rest of the food she normally gets that sometimes has a hint of old gravy laced inside the brown nuggets.
Life is something. That’s one thing Olivia knows for certain as she gets up and walks back into the kitchen.
Phyllis doesn’t budge. That will teach Olivia to eat most of the pork herself.
When the plate is washed off, and all the leftovers are safely stored in the refrigerator, Olivia asks Phyllis if she needs to go outside and puts on her jacket, because she already knows the answer.
Whatever. Phyllis gets up and not so much trots as slowly lumbers out the door. Olivia thinks people who believe dogs don’t have a personality are the ones without personalities. Phyllis should have her own television show.
While she waits for Phyllis to ever so slowly pick out the perfect spot, Olivia watches the family next door toss a football around the front yard. They are laughing and obviously pretending they’re members of the Chicago Bears. When they pile into a heap—mother, father, two sons, a couple of neighbor kids, and two giggling girls from down the street—Olivia feels a stabbing pain in her chest.
It’s not a heart-attack kind of pain but a blaze of emotion that grips her unexpectedly and leaves her breathless.
“Come on, Phyllis,” she commands, in a voice that is broken and almost inaudible.
But Phyllis hears and she hurries.
They scurry inside, where Olivia stands in her jacket, feeling that same swell of loneliness that has been riding her more and more every day. In one way, she realizes the feeling is a good thing and it validates the direction her life will be taking very soon. But it also hurts. The sadness of a recognized emotion is a gift for sure, but when Olivia opens her eyes she is still alone.
She’s about to bend down and wrap her arms around Phyllis, who makes all things bearable, and who takes away a good portion of her loneliness all the time, when her phone rings.
“Well, there you go.” She almost laughs as she walks into the kitchen to answer the call.
It’s Jane’s husband, Derrick, and he’s all but screaming into the phone.
“Listen to me, Derrick,” she orders. “I am coming over there. It will take me less than ten minutes. You must keep her calm. Then, in exactly ten minutes, you must call the police.”
Phyllis is now sitting at full attention. The air has suddenly turned serious.
“I will tell her, Derrick. That’s why I want you to wait until I’m at the house before you call. It will take the police a few minutes to get there. I’m leaving right now.”
Olivia is gone so quickly that Phyllis is turning in circles. What in the world is going on?
The car is pulling out of the driveway and Phyllis is tempted to bark, but what good will that do? Finally she walks over to Olivia’s chair, looks up at it, wishes Olivia were still sitting in it, and then plops down on her bed to wait.
Fifteen minutes later, Phyllis discovers a rather large piece of meat that Olivia must have placed on the bed when she w
asn’t looking. Phyllis, of course, eats it.
But it doesn’t taste the same. Nothing tastes the same without Olivia.
45
Reckless Fury of the Scorned
Jane’s house is totally dark when Olivia pulls into the driveway. The short drive seemed like an eternity, and Olivia’s heart and head are absolutely spinning. When she swings her legs out of the car and begins walking to the front door, Olivia wonders if the electricity has been knocked out.
There are many things a professional woman like Dr. Olivia Bayer can and does prepare herself for. She’s been wise enough during her career to expect the unexpected. And if she ever stopped long enough to think about it she could write a book, or a long essay at the very least, about some of the characters she has encountered.
There was the guy who never took off his cowboy hat because he had some kind of strange idea about aliens invading his brain if he didn’t keep his head covered. One woman had a trash problem and spent hours and hours walking the streets picking up garbage people had thrown out of their car windows. That wasn’t necessarily bad but then she took it all home, sorted it, and kept everything in tiny cardboard boxes.
Beyond the strange and complex, what Olivia tended to remember was the men and women who finally figured out something as simple as forgiveness, love, or letting go. There was nothing she liked better than to see that light of realization begin glowing in someone’s eyes as they surrendered to whatever emotion they had been avoiding. And Dr. Bayer never gave up on anyone. All the Janes of the world always had a chance, and potential.
As she approaches the dark walkway leading to Jane’s front door, Olivia is struck by the notion that this class and these women have set some new records for her, even this late in the game. She’s not certain what she’s going to see when she steps into the house, but she’s already positive that nothing like this has ever happened to her before.
Derrick has been watching for her, and when he opens the door, and she takes one look at his face, the great Dr. Bayer can’t stifle a very audible cry.
“Oh, Derrick!” she moans. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be okay. I may need a stitch or two. It’s Jane I’m worried about.”
Derrick has a bloody nose, and it looks as if he’s been battered with something large and heavy.
Olivia takes one more step into the house and is absolutely astounded at what she sees. The kitchen off to her right is a shambles. Broken wine bottles litter the floor. What’s left of the huge glass wine rack is hanging by two exposed metal rods from the ceiling. The large wooden table looks as if it’s been set on fire and then doused with water that was sprayed right from the faucet.
It appears as if Jane used a baseball bat not just on Derrick but also on the entire house. Olivia turns to look into the living room and sees that the only piece of furniture left standing is a long leather couch that must have taken the blows without harm.
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs, lying in the closet.”
“Take me to her and then wait down here for the police. They know me. Tell them I’m up there and that we’ll be right down.”
“She must have smashed the electrical box or something,” he explains, leading her up the unlit stairs. “I’m afraid to look through the rest of the house, but we have no power right now.”
Jane really is lying on the closet floor. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater; her hair looks almost as perfect as it always does. She’s lying on her side, and it looks as if she’s rolled up some shirts to use as a pillow. You’d never guess by her serene pose that she has just completed a rampage. The closet is half empty. Dr. Bayer correctly guesses that Derrick has removed most of his clothes from the house.
“Jane, it’s Dr. Bayer. I’m going to sit down next to you for a few moments.”
Jane doesn’t move or acknowledge Olivia’s presence. Her eyes are closed, but Olivia knows she isn’t sleeping.
“What happened, Jane?”
“I fell apart.”
“Can you tell me why?”
Dr. Bayer isn’t certain what will happen next or if Jane will even talk to her. But she has to try. The police won’t wait forever, and she must prepare Jane for the inevitable.
Jane suddenly sits up. She crosses her legs, leans back on her elbows, and lets her head drop back for a moment. Dr. Bayer is sitting directly in front of her. Even in the dark closet there is enough light filtering in from the bedroom windows so that Dr. Bayer can see Jane’s face.
“I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am I going to jail?”
“That’s what we need to talk about. First tell me what happened, Jane? What made you this angry?”
“It was the billboards. And then Derrick left me.”
“The billboards?” Dr. Bayer has absolutely no idea what Jane is talking about.
Jane, who is more coherent than one might expect of someone who has just assaulted her husband and done thousands of dollars’ worth of damage to her own home, tells Dr. Bayer everything.
Jane said she could handle anger class, the loss of her job, her overbearing parents, her mounting drinking problem, Grace’s discovery of her well-guarded infertility, which she has always kept from Derrick, and her husband’s departure. What finally threw her over the edge was the billboards. The billboards that were the signs of her great success, her ability to succeed, the nose-rubbing for her parents, who never wanted her to go into that kind of business.
Dr. Bayer is tempted to stop Jane at this point. Everyone in the Chicago area knows the real-estate market has dipped. Olivia wonders if she has totally underestimated the size of Jane’s ego. It must be much larger than the billboard itself.
Dr. Bayer decides to let Jane talk. She will fill in the blanks later. She rotates her legs so she is sitting cross-legged, like Jane.
Jane’s descent into the deepest pit of her anger started when she discovered that she had been adopted. That’s not such a bad thing, but as a young woman, before she married, Jane discovered that she had a hereditary condition that would prevent her from having children.
That’s when she became obsessed not only with wondering why this part of her was so imperfect but also with lying to Derrick. Derrick wanted children and she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her condition. She thought that he would walk away, see her as flawed, and never marry her.
Jane kept her medical records private. Derrick never knew about her past history—the infertility sessions at the hospital, the fact that she had known all these years that she could never have a baby. She let him go through his own round of testing, and she switched doctors when it was her turn to get tested, so that her past was essentially erased. And all those records Grace saw at the hospital? Those were from the doctors and all the procedures she had before Derrick, when she was in her early twenties and the doctors were experimenting with her fertility.
The truth is that Jane was relieved she couldn’t have children. She thought because her birth mother didn’t want her that she would be a horrible mother herself. She was frightened.
Dr. Bayer reaches out to touch Jane. Jane must have buried this pain so deep inside that she had no idea who she was or what she might become.
“Oh, Jane,” Dr. Bayer says. “You should have come to me. I would have helped you.”
Jane looks up into Dr. Bayer’s eyes and shrugs. She looks totally exhausted and defeated.
“I have absolutely no idea how to be a human being,” she admits. “I’ve ruined everything.”
“Tell me about the billboards,” Dr. Bayer says. “What was it about this that made you step over the line again?”
“It felt like I was being mocked and that everyone knew I had fallen from the billboards and onto a single sheet of paper,” Jane admitted. “I so need to be on a billboard. I do.”
Dr. Bayer wants to slap her own head. Jane’s problems a
re much, much deeper than the anger itself. And the billboard? Something else must have happened.
Jane is quiet again. She’s staring at the empty hangers.
“Jane, there must be something else besides Kit mentioning the billboards and Derrick leaving? Can you tell me?”
Jane imagines everyone will find out anyway. What difference does it make now? The whole world will know she’s nothing but a loser, a fake, everything her parents probably feared she would become the day they adopted her.
“I sent out a mess of fake résumés to try and get a banking job,” she admits, not really caring what Dr. Bayer thinks. “I had to do something. I thought if I could get into banking, because I have so much experience with housing loans, I could get back at them for what happened to me when the markets collapsed.”
The résumés, Jane explains, were her last hope. But this afternoon when the phone started ringing with questions from the human-resources people about her references and experience Jane realized that she was in over her head. She had been stupid. And Derrick was leaving her! She loved him, she really did, but it was too late now.
Too late for Jane.
Then Jane did what she always did when something turned in a direction that displeased her. She got angry.
“It was almost as if I was having an out-of-body experience,” she recalls. “I was calm at first. I walked into the garage and found one of Derrick’s baseball bats, and the minute I walked back into the house it was as if a switch inside me had been turned on.”
“I saw what you did, Jane.”
“I would have kept going, but Derrick showed up to talk to me and I went after him.”
“I noticed that also.”
And one other thing.
“There’s more?”
“I thought Derrick was having an affair. I thought he was lying to me, and all the time he was seeing someone, a counselor, because he was so unhappy. I made him so damn unhappy.”