by Greta Boris
Brian turned and walked toward the cemetery. “Can we get ice cream? Some of the kids are going to get ice cream after.”
Olivia thought about saying no. Disobedience ought to have consequences. Wandering deserved punishment, not rewards. But she said, “Sure.”
Since she and Davy, Brian’s father, had divorced three years ago, she’d been thrust into the role of enforcer. Davy was the yes-man, the fun guy, Mr. Party. She made sure homework was done, teeth were brushed, rooms were cleaned and, most important, Safety Plans were followed.
She’d wanted today to be fun. She’d wanted her turn to spoil her son. “We’re going to have to talk about this,” she said, and Brian looked at his feet. “But not now. Tonight.”
Olivia glanced over her shoulder as they left the Sacred Garden. Movement, a flutter of white, a large bird maybe, disappeared behind the Bell Wall. They walked past the entrance to the graveyard in silence. “So, what was in the window?” she said when they reached the courtyard.
“It was all black. I couldn’t see anything.” Brian sounded relieved to change the subject, then darted ahead to join his classmates who were lining up to leave.
“In the gift shop then?” Mrs. Margolis said with a smug smile.
Olivia tried to suppress the anger in her voice. “In the graveyard.” She was pleased to see the complacent expression slide off Mrs. Margolis’s face.
CHAPTER THREE
MIRACLE OF MIRACLES, the next day Olivia pulled into the soccer field parking lot, and Brian was jogging straight toward her car—backpack flapping behind him, cleats in hand. She was so shocked to see her son where he was supposed to be at the time he was supposed to be there, it took her a moment to recognize the tall form behind him.
She lifted her hand to wave to Tom, St. Barnabas’s math teacher and assistant soccer coach, but Brian opened the passenger side door and thrust his gear into her waiting arms. “Let’s go.”
Olivia had thought about Tom a surprising number of times since she’d met him last month. He seemed nice and responsible, and she was pretty sure he was flirting with her whenever she saw him at school or on the field. But all at once the car filled with hurried, sweaty boy, commotion, and confusion, and any thought of Tom fled from her mind. Olivia shifted Brian’s things into the rear seat before he sat on them and helped him untangle the seat belt that caught on his gym bag.
By the time she turned to look out the windshield for Tom, he was gone. The disappointment she felt was unexpected. Romance had been the last thing on her mind for a very long time. She should probably keep it that way.
She started the engine and put the car into reverse. Before she could leave her spot, a hand dropped into her open window. Olivia jumped.
“Hi,” Tom said.
“You startled me.”
“I have that effect on women.” He smiled a one-dimpled smile. “I wanted to make sure your wanderer made it into the car.”
Olivia put a hand on Brian’s thigh but kept her eyes on Tom. “He’s right here. Safe and sound.”
“I kind of rode herd on him today.” Tom leaned down and looked past Olivia at Brian. “Sorry, buddy. Just helping out your mom.”
Tom’s face was so close to hers, she could see the faint stubble of afternoon beard, smell his cologne. She’d never noticed how green his eyes were before. “Whether Brian appreciates it or not, I do,” she said.
“I know you guys have been having a tough time.” He patted her car like it was a dog he was fond of. “I’d better let you get going.”
Olivia thanked him again and pulled out of her space. Before she turned onto the street, she looked into her rear view mirror. Tom stood where she’d left him, watching her drive away.
“He’s mean.” Brian’s voice was grim.
Olivia glanced at her son, and the happy sunbeam she’d been basking in disappeared into the cloud cover on his face. Tears rimmed his brown eyes.
“What’s the matter, Brian?”
“Mr. Hartman.”
“Tom Hartman?” Olivia had grown used to Brian suffering under the hands of the other kids on the team, or at school. Kids were mean to those who were different, but teachers and coaches were usually supportive. “What happened?”
“For the whole practice, he was like, right by me telling me what to do. ‘Brian, kick like this. Brian, pay attention to me. Brian, watch the game.’ Everybody was looking at me.”
“Maybe he was trying to help you?”
“That’s what Coach said.”
“You talked to Coach about it?” Olivia was surprised. Brian’s feelings were like the dirty socks he shoved into his gym bag. They didn’t come out until the smell overwhelmed him.
“No. He could tell I was mad.” Brian pulled on the hem of his shorts with grubby hands. “Everybody could tell.”
They rode in silence for a while. Olivia didn’t want to minimize her son’s embarrassment, but she was pretty sure she knew what had happened. Brian’s mind wandered even when his body didn’t. He wanted to be treated like all the other kids on the team, but he wasn’t like all the other kids on the team. Not yet.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Hartman next time I see him. I think he was trying to do a good thing, and he got carried away.”
“He’s mean.”
“Honey. Why would he be mean to you? What reason could he have?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
Brian’s words sliced into Olivia. Before the accident, he’d been such a confident and happy kid. Now paranoia haunted him. The doctors said difficulty interpreting social cues was normal for someone with the kind of head injuries he’d suffered, but that didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t make the pain any less. She hurt when he hurt, and he hurt a lot these days.
“I’m sure that’s not true. I think he likes you a lot, that’s why he was paying so much attention to you. If he didn’t like you, he’d just ignore you.”
Another block went by. Brian said, “I wish he didn’t like me.”
As soon as Olivia turned off the ignition, Brian threw open the car door. “Dad.”
Davy, Olivia’s ex, leaned on his car. He was early. He’d called yesterday, said he was planning to take Brian to dinner, and mentioned he wanted to talk to her. He had news.
Brian charged into his father’s arms. Davy gave him bear hug and kissed the top of his head. “Hey, buddy.”
“You’re early,” Olivia said.
“Yeah. I had a job interview nearby.”
A job interview. Maybe that was his news? Olivia rejected the thought. A job was news, not an interview.
“I beat you, Dad. I passed level five in Iron Kingdom. That means I get a burger at Five Guys, right?” Brian’s face was shining, all storm clouds gone.
“No way. How’d you do it?” Davy ruffled his son’s brown hair.
The boys talked game strategy while Olivia retrieved the mail and unlocked the door. Brian dropped his bags in the middle of the hall. “I’ll show you,” he said, excitement punctuating his words.
“Brian—” Olivia was going to tell him to pick up his stuff. To take a shower. Get ready to go. Davy cut her off.
“Hey, what’s this?” He pointed at Brian’s mess. “Does your mother live here?”
Brian grinned. “Yeah.”
Davy struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. “That’s right. Well, pick up anyway.”
“I want to show you how I beat the level.” A hint of whine crept into Brian’s voice.
“We have all night. I want to talk to your mom for a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” Brian said, and hefted his gym bag over his shoulder.
“As long as you’re cleaning stuff up, take a shower. You’re pretty ripe. I can smell your feet from here.” Davy had a way of concealing commands inside jokes. His methods worked with Brian. Their son headed to his bedroom without an argument.
When Olivia corrected Brian, he resisted, obfuscated, and disappeared. Davy came blowing into his life once a m
onth or so, as free and unpredictable as a summer breeze, and Brian responded like a kite in the hands of a master.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” Olivia sounded brisker than she’d intended.
“Are you going to offer me a cup of coffee?” Davy said.
This was different. They didn’t usually socialize. When Davy showed up for his visits, if he showed up, the conversation between them was as brief as possible: Where are you going? Make sure he’s home by nine. Don’t forget he has school tomorrow. They never chatted over cups of coffee.
Davy sat at the outdated, white tiled counter that separated the kitchen and living room while Olivia busied herself with coffee making.
“I’m not sure how to start this conversation,” Davy said, after taking a slug from the mug she deposited on the counter in front of him.
Olivia waited.
“I need to apologize for all the ways I’ve hurt you and Brian—”
Something between a cough and a laugh escaped through Olivia’s lips. She covered her mouth with a hand. “Sorry, go on.”
“I know. I don’t blame you for being skeptical. I’ve been... neglectful, selfish. I’m sure you could come up with a longer list of negative adjectives.”
Olivia could think of others like unreliable, irresponsible, but she didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, I’m asking for a chance to make it up to you and Brian.”
“Davy, I’ve learned not to expect anything from you, so I’m not disappointed.”
“It’s different this time.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been dry for almost six months. I’m going to stay that way.”
“Dry? Really? You don’t mean you’re only drinking beer? Or, you’re only drinking on weekends?”
“No. Dry. I haven’t even used mouthwash. When the court gave your mom temporary custody of Brian instead of me, that hit me hard.”
Olivia examined his face. He looked healthy, healthier than he had in years. He was clean-shaven. His light brown hair had been recently cut. His blue eyes were clear and pleading. She wanted to believe him, but she’d been down this road before. It always ended in a swamp.
Davy stared into his coffee cup. “I’m not trying to do it alone this time. I know I can’t. I’m in a Celebrate Recovery group. I have accountability. It’s different.”
“So this is what, step eight where you have to ask for forgiveness?”
“Nobody’s making me ask.”
“Tell you what,” Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. “Come talk to me when you’ve been clean for six more months.” She needed to see him make it through the holidays before she would even think about trusting him again. Christmas and New Year’s were high temptations for social drinkers, and Davy was a social drinker.
“That’s fair. We’ll revisit the forgiveness thing next year.” His jaw hardened.
“Okay,” Olivia said.
“There’s something else I want to say. I know I’ve been hit or miss with Brian in the past, but that’s over. Tuesday and Thursday nights and every other weekend, I’m on. I’ll be here.”
“I’m not sure this is the best time for you to turn over a new leaf.” Olivia had rearranged her and Brian’s lives so she never had to depend him.
“Why not?”
“CPS. I’m nearly done with the process. If nothing goes wrong, the doctors will sign Brian off in January, and I get my son and my life back.”
“That’s just as important to me as it is to you.” A look of pain crossed Davy’s face. He closed his eyes. “When I think about that night... I’m more ashamed than I can say.”
He was referring to the night Brian was hit by the truck. No one could find Davy to tell him what had happened until the next morning because he was too drunk to answer the phone. Olivia didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive him for that. She tried not to think about it. Dwelling on the memory was like swimming in a stormy sea with wrath-filled waves crashing around her. She could drown there.
“I didn’t realize what he meant to me until we almost lost him, Liv. It’s what’s turned me around. I need to show him, prove it to him.”
“Honestly, Davy, I only care about what Brian needs, and what he needs right now is people who do what they say they’re going to do—every time. I need responsible adult eyes on him twenty-four seven.”
“Let me help.”
“If you pull the crap you used to pull, I could lose everything I’m working for.” Davy had broken so many promises since their divorce, it had almost shattered Olivia. She’d given up hope she’d ever have a fulfilling career. How could she when she was constantly making last minute phone calls to her mother and Davy’s father, calling in sick to work, or worrying over inexperienced babysitters? She had a new job now. A job she loved. A job with a future. She wasn’t about to jeopardize it.
“I won’t.”
Olivia crossed her small kitchen in two long strides. “Here. Here is the schedule.” She pointed to a chalkboard hanging next to the refrigerator. “Every hour of every day is accounted for: Mondays and Wednesdays, Mom gets him from school at 3:00 and keeps him until I get off at nine. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he goes straight to soccer practice after school. I leave work early, so I can pick him up by four-thirty. Every other Friday I have to close the studio, so your father picks him up from school. On the alternate Saturdays, I take him to work with me, and he goes to childcare there. If any one of these things goes wrong, I’m screwed. I don’t have time to create backup plans.”
Davy pointed at the wall. “Put me down for Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’ll pick him up here, or from soccer. You choose. And I’ll take the weekends you work.”
Olivia crossed her arms. “I can’t chance it. Not now. Not when I’m this close.”
Davy looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You don’t have a choice.” An icy finger trailed along Olivia’s spine. “Don’t make me play hardball. The courts made you the custodial parent, and I didn’t fight it. But only because I have visitation rights. I get Tuesday and Thursday nights and every other weekend. That’s what we agreed to.”
“But... but... that was before.” Anger and fear made her words come in sputters. “Before you stopped showing up. Before the accident. Before the stupid Safety Plan.”
“I know. It’s not fair. I get it. But, it’s the way it is. It’s time I start being a parent.”
“You’ve waited this long, why can’t you wait until next year?”
“Because I think we have a better chance of being released from the plan if both Brian’s parents are involved in his life.”
“Not if one of them is completely irresponsible.” The words exploded from her.
“Irresponsible, neglectful, those are labels we get to disprove.” Davy pushed himself away from the counter and called out. “Brian, you ready? There’s a burger with your name on it at Five Guys.” He turned to Olivia. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m not going to let you down.”
She hoped it was true, but her hope was thin and frayed, a fragile lifeline.
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU LEFT THE front door open,” Olivia called through the car window on Wednesday morning. Brian, who’d emerged from their condo, brown paper bag in hand, shot a glance over his shoulder like he didn’t believe her. Focus, baby, focus.
Brian already had two tardy marks. One more, and he’d have to stay after school. Maybe Olivia shouldn’t worry about these things. After all, some mothers had to deal with drugs, online porn, or video game addictions. He was on full scholarship at St. Barnabas Lutheran School, a good private school in the prestigious Dana Point community, a school she’d fought to get him into, and that he’d been suspended from last school year. A suspension that had led to him being unsupervised for a few hours while Olivia went to work. Hours when he left the house and was hit by a truck, causing him to be in a coma for almost a week. He was still suffering from head trauma. When the truth abo
ut the circumstances came out, he was forgiven by the school board. But Olivia wanted to keep them happy. At least until she could afford the tuition on her own.
Rather than waiting in the long drop-off line at the school, Olivia parked on a side street. She might get him there on time if they walked. He’d definitely be late if they fought the traffic jam.
“You don’t have to come with me,” Brian said.
“I want to.” She knew he was embarrassed by her presence. But she had no confidence he wouldn’t get distracted by an interesting leaf, or a bug, or a cloud that resembled a leaf or a bug and never make it to class on time.
Brian picked up his pace. His feet, too large for his slender body and made even bigger by the Vans she’d bought a half size too big for frugality’s sake, slapped the sidewalk. He kept his eyes lowered, looking anywhere but at her. Olivia lengthened her stride to keep up. She wasn’t going to let him out of her sight until he was safely on school grounds. He was just going to have to deal with it.
When they came to the school parking lot, Brian mumbled something that might have been “Goodbye,” and took off running toward the building. Olivia watched him until he walked through the glass front doors.
As she turned to leave, a minivan pulled into one of the staff parking spaces. Art Bishop, the school principal, unfolded his long frame from the driver side. Three kids erupted from the other doors and ran, just like Brian had, to get to their classrooms before the bell rang.
“Olivia. Just the person I wanted to see.” She watched Art cross the blacktop toward her. He was six-foot-four, broad-shouldered and muscular and boxed for exercise. He ought to be frightening, but gentle was the first word that came to her mind when describing him.
Art had gone through some marriage problems last February, and Olivia had allowed herself to indulge in a small fantasy about a future with him. Since then, he and Gwen, his wife, seemed to have worked out their differences. Olivia had gotten to know Gwen, and the crush had died an appropriate death.
“Why is that?”
“Gwen has been after me to find out how the job is going.”