“I’m not really sure what to say,” my mom confessed.
“It’s been a weird day,” I said, looking up at her apologetically.
“It has,” she said, sighing, but seeing me, really seeing.
She moved her hand over mine. I looked down on it. My eyes flickered.
Naturally, there’d been hesitation in me. Soon as I felt it though, I covered her hand with my own and squeezed.
“Thank you,” I said, looking up at her, holding back tears.
I could tell Avery and her dad were probably watching and feeling out of place.
“Anyway,” I said. “Let's talk about something else,” I shook out my hair and stood, pulling the metal lid off the food and noticing the enticing smells. “Whoa,” I said. “This looks great.”
“Let me help you,” Avery said, standing beside me and taking the lid.
Her body near mine lit me up and I tried to gather myself, tried hard not to blush, not to be affected. My attraction though, it had its own way. It burned out all other feelings in me sometimes.
Avery’s hand had touched mine and her other hand had held at my waist as her body fit right behind mine and I felt her everywhere.
I noticed our parents share an amused look. They were catching us in our wild state.
“Okay,” I said awkwardly, stepping around toward the other side of the table and dealing with the other platter of food just to maintain a bit of space.
We both filled the plates, dancing around each other and trying to take care not to touch or be too lovey.
When we finally sat down again I took in a deep breath and heard a fork clink a glass.
I looked up to see my mother presenting.
She had her wine glass up high in her hand and she was ready to toast.
Avery and I raised our water glasses.
“Lets drink to Avery,” my mother said.
A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth as I watched Avery squirm in my periphery. She hated being called out but she loved it too somehow, she was cute that way.
“Honest, caring, sweet… I’ve only known you a few days,” my mother smiled. “But in a few days you’ve brightened my life and reacquainted me with my own daughter and for that I can never repay you. I can only wish for you to have wonderful things.”
“To Avery,” I said, clinking my glass with my mom’s.
Everybody clinked awkwardly and then drank.
I wish I knew what her father was thinking but I couldn’t tell, he’d been so quiet.
“I’d drink to you Judge Holbrook but I’m not so great at making speeches,” Avery joked.
“You can call me Liz,” my mother said. “You’re family now, I can’t bear to hear that stuffy title coming out from your lips.”
My mom was so taken by her. I knew why but it always surprised me.
I liked watching them.
“So, Olivia tells me you’re a Juvenile Court Judge, Elizabeth. That must be demanding.”
“It’s a job,” she teased, smiling wildly. She was leaning back on the head of the king seat, wine glass in her hand. She wasn’t even hungry, I could tell.
I, on the other hand, was ravenous for once. I ate with near abandon. They were talking. They could talk. This was my only real food for the day since breakfast had been so tense and stressful.
“You must have to deal with a lot of upset people,” Mr. Lockhart said.
“That’s pretty much all that I do,” my mom nodded. “I’ve thought about quitting. Especially now that I know we’re set financially thanks to Henri’s success with BioDynamics. You know how it gets though. You get used to a routine. Used to doing things like they’ve been done. And then you think: but what if someone else did this job? Would they care like I do? Would they try as hard to be fair? The politics of it all are a nightmare.”
I was worried about what she might say. She could say the wrong thing and trigger a certain reaction. I needed Avery’s father to like her. I needed for it to be okay that Avery was close with my mom.
“Could you retire?” Mr. Lockhart asked.
“Oh, easily,” she said. It wasn’t a question of that. She liked the work. She liked feeling like she was helping even if sometimes she was hurting kids, lots of kids.
“What about switching? Trying adults instead of children?” I asked, trying not to sound cold but feeling it.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Less of a stress,” I said. “Kids shouldn’t really be in prison-type situations. Not many of them anyway.”
“Olivia these are violent and sometimes homicidal youths. They’re not just stealing chiclets from the corner store on a Friday. They’re stabbing people, murdering them. Their hands are covered in blood. And they’re not young and they’re not stupid.”
“Kids are easy to brainwash Mom,” I said, finally speaking up. I’d said these things before but before she never listened.
“It’s hard to pass judgement. It’s not an easy thing to do in an unofficial capacity,” Avery said stoically. “I don’t think I could do that. I know I couldn’t.”
“Not many could,” my mom agreed in friendly encouragement for her to speak. Avery had helped her in a way. Her words were sympathetic, to my mother, not to me.
“I’ve been lucky to have a good home,” I said, backing myself up. “Parents who care about my health and my safety. A lot of kids don’t have that. A lot of kids have to fight to feel safe. They shouldn’t be punished for that. It’s not their fault.”
“Okay, where is this coming from?!” My mom asked frustrated. “Do you have a problem with what I do Olivia? Is that why you can’t talk to me?”
“I am talking to you,” I said, feeling shaky.
My stomach turned. I dropped my fork.
I felt Avery’s hand on my leg trying to comfort me.
“Olivia’s just tired,” Avery said, trying to help.
She said the wrong thing though. That’s what my mom would say when I was upset.
“No. I am not just tired,” I pushed her hand from my knee angrily and forced myself to eat something else.
I could feel my sight zeroing in, flames inside of me burning, flames of anger of great strength.
“Avery’s mother and I were both impressed by Olivia,” I heard Mr. Lockhart say firmly from across the table to try and fix me.
I felt like crumbling. He was trying to protect me. They both were.
I sat back and dropped my fork down.
“She’s a very impressive person,” my mother said. “Her own person.”
“I get it Mom. I get it, this is my fault. This distance. That’s what you’re thinking and not saying, right?” I’d waved my hands between us, unable to stop myself from spewing words.
“I never said that,” she pushed, putting her fork down too. Her brow twitched and I could tell she was trying. “You just say things Olivia. You say things and I don't know where they’re coming from. Avery told me you wanted to go into Biomedical at Stanford. Is that true?”
“It was once,” I said, shrugging. “I used to want to do a lot of things until thinking about doing them stressed me out too much and I couldn’t.”
“She said you're scared to play. Even at home.” I was talking to her and she wasn’t even fucking listening.
“I am… I was,” I said, realizing that was done now because I didn’t care.
“Why don’t you just talk to us?!” She was so frustrated by me. “I didn’t know that Olivia. I didn’t know ANY of that.” Her voice cracked too. She definitely thought I was absurd.
“Talking to you sometimes is like talking to a brick wall. I say things and you don’t hear them. I would say things and you would say: Olivia dear, you’re just tired.” I repeated AVERY’S words with venom. “And that was that. And I was tired,” my voice cracked. “Tired of my voice not being heard, my say not mattering. You pulled me from music. I loved music. Music was the only thing I loved. And you took it away. You would toss me around
from this place to that, this activity to the next. This camp, this program, this new skill, this new trade. I never had peace.”
“I was protecting you,” she said. “Educating you. You couldn’t excel if I didn’t guide you.”
“I didn’t care about excelling. It wasn’t about being the best,” I growled. “It was about what made me happy. Everything that made me happy? You took it away. You restricted it.” My voice choked out at the end. I felt stupid for waiting so long to speak up for myself. It made absolutely no sense.
My mom tightened her grip on the side of the table.
“I can’t go back,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was doing was wrong and I can’t go back.”
“I know,” I said. “But you can’t pretend these things were right when they weren’t. I’ve told you. You ignore me.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” she said, her eyes seeing me again like before.
“Not now,” I noticed. “Not anymore.” I wouldn’t let her. I was an adult now. I was my own person. I could be the difficult one. I was allowed.
Avery and her dad were just sitting quietly and listening to us fight.
“I’m sorry,” I said. To everyone, giving them all independent looks.
“I’m not so good sometimes at saying the most important things I need to say. My thoughts build and it takes me awhile to get my words out. I’m like a fucking bomb.”
It wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was just true.
I looked up at my mom and felt her shakiness.
“I’m sorry,” I said honestly. It still felt wrong though to be the one saying that to her.
She tightened her hand around mine and squeezed.
“We want you happy,” she said. “That's all we want.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. She’d accepted Avery. She’d welcomed laughter, welcomed talk.
It was different now. Now I really was an adult to her and I dunno when that finally changed.
Before this week I really didn’t connect with her at all.
“Shit,” I said, tears falling. I couldn’t wipe them. I had makeup on.
Avery laughed when I did and turned to help with a dry napkin and a hand at my chin.
“Look up,” she said, helping. I felt myself exhale shakily.
“Can we please stop having heavy conversations? I’ve never opened up this much in my entire life.” I whined.
I heard my mother laugh and turned to watch her lay her face down in her hands.
“Yes, please,” she said, coming out of it and giving Mr. Lockhart an apologetic glance.
“How is it at home with you two?” She asked. “Are Avery and her mom thick as thieves or are they all broken like us?”
My mom knew by now that Avery’s mom had a break down and was being treated. What she meant was to break the ice. Find commonalities. It was smart.
“Ah- it’s similar,” he said, giving Avery a guilty glance. “I haven't been as present as I should’ve been. I didn’t realize what that meant for Avery or my wife. Coming home has been sort of like being thrown in the sea.”
Avery let out a bitter laugh. “Not as present is putting it mildly. You left me to take care of her while you could ignore what was going on thousands of miles away.”
She was right but I liked his analogy. It was apt.
Avery could be his only buoy but on rough waters a buoy doesn’t just stay still and let you hold it. He could see her but she couldn’t reach out and help him and if he wanted help from her he’d have to take it. The analogy was perfect and I saw him swimming now, always trying while she stayed strong and just let it be done.
“They fight like we fight,” I said, butting in. “Avery had a dark time. They all did but Avery’s was exceedingly dark.” I didn’t care if she was mad that I was saying this. She kept saying things to my mom. She kept outing me with all my secrets. It was about time her father knew what it was like for her and how she burned. About time he realized I knew too, as kind as I was and as much as I tried. “She lost her brother,” I said. “Her best friend in all the world. A military life means you’re constantly moving, changing people, changing spaces. As a kid you have no choice. Adam was the only one who was always with her, her one constant, and then he died, leaving her alone in some strange place with only strangers again, this time, no him.” I took her hand back and forced her to touch my leg. I even slid it up under the hem of my dress in hopes it would calm her. “Losing her brother was already too much to deal with on her own but then you left Mr. Lockhart,” I said, looking over at him, telling him. Maybe he needed to hear it from someone else. “You left her alone in a new place without a friend. Her mother was sick. It wasn’t her fault but she wasn’t there, not mentally. Her mother was drowning in grief leaving her only daughter to have to survive and try to manage that alone as a child. She felt alone. She was alone.”
I looked over to her and noticed her sitting, her eyes not seeing anyone or anything.
“And that’s when she met Ben,” I said. That’s what this dinner was for, that’s what it was about. “She’d gone through years of her life like a zombie. Excelling at things with no reward. No one cared, no one saw her. Nothing could feel like it was worth anything now that Adam was gone.” I paused and let myself stare at her just a little bit more. “Ben saw her,” I said, rage filling me up, rage turning me reckless. “But then he was bad. And he used her. And he was wrong.” I realized I sounded as bitter as I felt. I couldn’t stop seeing her now, I didn’t want to turn away no matter how strange it was, how out of place. I studied her.
“And then I found you,” she said, her chin quivering. “And I knew I didn’t have to feel that way anymore.”
“Exactly right,” I said, pulling her face into mine and kissing her gently, my tongue catching hers and cradling it as I tasted how sweet she was, how perfect, how whole.
I didn’t care where we were or what they thought.
When I pulled away I laid my forehead on hers and shut my eyes to just breathe.
I smiled once I’d realized what I’d done. I’d kissed her in front of them. I let my head fall onto her shoulder so that I could hide.
“Sorry,” I whispered shakily. I got caught up in her again. I always did.
“It’s fine,” she laughed, holding me. “I felt alone,” she said, to them. “I was.” She confirmed.
She was looking out at my mom and then her dad. My eyes flickered at his eyes on me once I turned.
“I was too lost to know what I was doing,” her father said. “I thought your mother was stronger than me and that even though she was having a hard time she would be there for you. But I guess I was wrong.”
“We were all lost,” Avery said. A small consolation. “But I was too young to know what to do. I did stupid things,” she spat bitterly.
“No,” I said. “You did what helped at the time. You did all you could do to feel something. It wasn’t your fault.”
I hated her blaming herself.
“It sounds like Olivia saved you,” Avery’s dad said after witnessing us.
I tucked my face back into her shoulder and tried my best to hide my eyes.
“Sounds like they saved each other,” my mom said.
The whole dinner felt like such a mess by now. All aired secrets, dirty laundry, pain and remorse.
But we ended on love.
“Eat, baby,” I said. I knew she was probably starving but just holding me to be nice.
I turned back to my food and picked at it, eating more and looking up every now and then.
“So,” I said, reaching. “Have you ever driven a submarine?” It felt dumb to ask anything after all of that.
When I looked up I smiled and he laughed. They all did.
“Yes, I have, though it’s more a group effort than anything else. And those were in my beginning days as a Captain.”
“I’ve been in one,” I said. “But I’ve never been down.”
I wouldn’t let them take me. Hel
l no. The bottom of the sea? That’s terrifying.
“What’s it like?” I asked.
“Surreal,” he said firmly. “When you’re down there you know you’re stuck. It’s not like being in a house.”
We all laughed.
“As a Captain I have to fear of emergency protocol and what to do if we’re ever hit.”
He’d been hit in life. No protocol. No right way. And he failed.
Paper Dolls [Book Three] Page 5