by Greta Boris
“The Exorcist scared the tar out of me,” Tom said. “And I only saw the edited for TV version.”
“Which you weren’t supposed to watch.” Sage’s lips tightened into a thin smile.
“Always the rebel.” He winked at Olivia.
“So what is confabulation?” Sage said.
“Well, for one thing, it’s a legitimate diagnosis.” Olivia’s words were pointed. She wasn’t ready to let Tom off the hook. “It happens when the brain loses track of things and decides to fill it in with something that didn’t actually occur—a bit of a dream or a memory from another time.”
“The brain is the final frontier of medicine, I think,” Sage said. “Doctors can weigh it, measure it, watch electrical impulses travel across it, but it’s still a mystery. And mysteries make people nervous.”
Olivia nodded. “I’m careful who I share information about Brian with. I’ve found old prejudices still exist.”
They sat without speaking, birdsong filling the quiet. Sage broke the silence. “So, what’s the prognosis?”
Olivia spoke before Tom could jump in. “They’re not sure. They want to drug him, but I think I see improvements without drugs.”
Tom looked across the table at his mother, “I thought maybe you could help.”
Sage stared into the distance and didn’t respond.
“I don’t expect... I didn’t come here to...” Olivia floundered, wishing Tom hadn’t gotten involved. She didn’t want to put Sage on the spot, and she wasn’t willing to give Brian an unknown concoction. She couldn’t. She could only try holistic remedies that didn’t interfere with his current medicines and were approved by his doctor.
Sage patted Olivia’s arm. “I’m not sure I can help.”
“Of course you can.” Tom’s voice was tight. “The ginkgo biloba.” He waved a hand at the tree. “And I know you have other things in the garden that improve brain function.”
He and Sage locked eyes for a long moment. The tension that passed between them was almost palpable. Olivia hated the idea that the discord was because of her, because of Brian. “Please—” she began, but Tom lifted a hand to silence her.
“Let me think about it,” Sage said with a sigh. Tom’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned to Olivia. “Would you like to see the rest of the garden?”
She would. She wanted to get up and move away from what had become an awkward situation. But she also wanted to know the secrets of medicinal plants more than she’d wanted anything in a long, long, time.
***
Olivia sat on her lumpy, green sofa and stared at the eucalyptus tree outside her living room window. The house was still, silent except for the sounds of chirping birds and the occasional car passing by on the street. Brian would be home any minute.
She missed him. It was the first weekend they’d been apart since her mother had temporary custody. But time alone was a rare and precious commodity. She soaked in the peace of her remaining moments like a cat on a windowsill soaking up the sun.
She’d just ordered grapefruit, cinnamon, and ginger oils for the studio. Several clients had asked if diffusing essential oils could help them lose weight. Apparently, it could. This combination of scents should suppress the appetite, boost metabolism, and give people more energy without reaching for the chocolate. It would probably be even more effective in a topical lotion, but she didn’t feel qualified to create one. Maybe she’d talk to Sage about the idea.
As she sat, she ran through possible names for the solution. “Fat Away” sounded like a cleaning product. “Sniff and Burn” sounded illegal. “Slim Scent.” That wasn’t bad. She closed her laptop. Whatever she called it, it would sell. Orange County housewives were a vain lot.
Her phone broke the quiet. She picked it up from where it lay next to her on the couch, and looked at the screen. It was Nanette.
“Olivia, do you have a minute?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
“Carl’s taking me to court. I need to talk.” The briskness of Nanette’s tone couldn’t hide the underlying emotion.
Olivia’s chest tightened in sympathy. Being called before a judge was the common fear of every parent in the system. “What happened?”
“My mother.”
Nanette had a nanny to help care for Dawn, but the nanny had Fridays off. On Fridays, Dawn’s grandmother picked her up from school, brought her home, and stayed until Nanette finished work.
“Trying to get through to her is like trying to get through a room stuffed with cotton batting. I’ve told her once a week since she’s starting watching Dawn—which makes seventy-eight times—you absolutely, unequivocally, cannot leave Dawn home alone for any reason. So what does she do?”
“Leaves her home alone?” Olivia said.
“Yup. I was out of coffee creamer.”
“She couldn’t take—”
“That’s what I said. I asked her, ‘If you had to have the damn coffee creamer, why didn’t you take Dawn with you to the store?’“
“What’d she say?”
“She said Dawn didn’t want to go.” Neither of them spoke for a moment, but Olivia heard a strangled sound through the phone that could have been a growl of anger, or a sob.
“But, you weren’t the one who left her alone. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“My lawyer will bring that up in court, but I’m the one who left her with my mother so it’s not a slam dunk. Ultimately, I’m responsible.”
A cool breeze brought the bracing scent of eucalyptus through the open window. Olivia inhaled deeply. “So what’s the plan?” She kept her voice calm, positive. “What does your lawyer say?”
“It’s not good. She’ll present all the things I’ve done to be compliant with the Safety Plan. She’ll present the outlandish lengths Carl has gone to catch me in a mistake. But, you know, leaving Dawn home alone was what started this whole mess.”
Olivia did know. The law in California about the age a child could be left home alone was vague. The State left it up to the parent to decide, unless someone alerted Child Protection Services, then the caseworker assigned to the case got to decide. Single, working mothers trod a narrow path with a wall on one side and a cliff on the other.
“I should never have signed the damn Safety Plan in the first place. That’s what my lawyer says. I should have called her and fought it right from the beginning. I handed Carl a sledgehammer when I signed that thing.” Nanette sounded exhausted.
“You didn’t know,” Olivia said.
“No.”
“Mom,” Brian burst through the front door. He ran across the living room and threw himself into Olivia’s arms. She hugged him to herself, hard, grateful he was home. “I’m on with Nanette, give me a second. Okay?”
Brian frowned.
“I gotta go. Brian just got home.” Olivia felt a twinge of survivor’s guilt.
“Yeah. Thanks for listening,” Nanette said.
“Always. I’m always here for you. You know that.”
“I do.”
“Keep me posted.” Olivia rang off and turned her attention to her son.
“Can we get a dog?” Brian’s eyes were pleading.
“A dog?” Where had that come from? Olivia looked past Brian to Davy, who leaned on the wall in the entryway. He shook his head to let her know it wasn’t his idea.
Brian’s eyes widened. His cheeks flushed. “At the zoo they use them to help take care of the cheetahs. It’s so cool. The cheetahs learn not to be afraid of people because the dogs aren’t afraid. It makes them, like, tame.”
“That’s amazing,” Olivia said, smiling at her son’s enthusiasm.
“I really want a dog.”
“Honey.”
“Please, Mom.”
Davy walked into the room. “Give your mom a break. Let her think about it, okay?”
“I don’t need to think about it.” Olivia shouldn’t snap at Davy in front of Brian, but, as unfair and illogical as it was, Nanette’s pho
ne call had inflamed her mistrust of him.
She couldn’t handle a dog right now. He knew that. She could barely keep up with the responsibilities she already had. She stroked Brian’s hair, and softened her voice. “It’s not a good time to get a pet, baby. We’re never home. It wouldn’t be fair. Dogs need a lot of attention.”
Brian untangled himself from her arms and paced across the small living room. “I’ll drop out of soccer. I’ll come right home from school every day. I’ll take it for walks. I’ll feed it. I swear. You won’t have to do anything. I’ll take total care of it, Mom. I will.”
Olivia could just imagine. With Brian’s memory issues the poor dog would be fed two or three times one day and not at all the next. Lord knows where they’d end up if Brian took it for a walk. “No, honey. Maybe in a couple of years.”
Brian opened his mouth to protest, but Davy interrupted. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you go put your stuff away in your room. I need to talk to your mom.”
Brian looked at his dad for a long moment, then walked to the entryway where he’d dropped his duffel bag. “Tell her all that stuff you told me about how dogs are good for people who forget a lot. Okay?”
Davy jerked his head in the direction of Brian’s room. Brian, shoulders slumped, headed out.
“What are you thinking?” Olivia said as soon as he was out of earshot. “I can’t take care of a dog. I’m starting a business, running Brian everywhere he needs to go, helping with homework, taking care of the house. Some mornings I don’t have enough time to brush my hair.”
Davy let her rant until she ran out of steam. “You done?”
Olivia glared at him.
“I never said it was a good idea to get a dog. He was mesmerized by the whole cheetah thing. A zoo keeper was in the enclosure, playing with the animals and talking to the crowd about the program. I think we spent an hour in that one spot.”
“Then when you left, you filled his head with stuff about service dogs. Right? He’s not disabled, Davy. He doesn’t need a service dog.”
“All he wanted to talk about on the way home were dogs—how smart they are. The things people can train them to do. I wasn’t suggesting he needed one. It was a conversation. He came up with the idea to ask you for a dog all by himself.”
“I guess all little boys want dogs,” she said, sadness overshadowing her annoyance. Family pets were often one more casualty of divorce.
“A dog could be a help. It could be trained to nudge him toward home when he gets a wild hair and decides to take off. It could find him if he does wander away.”
“I don’t have the time, or the money, to train a dog.”
“I’m not saying now is a good time, but we can’t follow him around forever. He’s getting older. We’re going to have to let out the leash a little, no pun intended. A dog might not be a bad idea.”
“You’re very good at coming up with ideas—what Brian wants, what Brian needs. You can’t drop them in my lap anymore, Davy. It’s full. You need to take care of your own ideas.”
Davy stared at her, a blank expression on his face, then pivoted on his heel and walked toward his son’s bedroom. The front door slammed about five minutes later. He left without saying goodbye.
Maybe she’d been too tough on him. He’d said he hadn’t meant to put ideas into Brian’s head. But, if she was honest with herself, she knew the problem wasn’t that Brian wanted a dog. It was seeing Davy as often as she did now. It wore her down. His presence poked holes in the box she’d stuffed her rage, and hurt, and grief into after the divorce, and she didn’t like what was spilling out. Vindictiveness wasn’t becoming.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A CAR CAME alongside Olivia’s and blocked her. She’d been about to pull away from the curb. It was Monday morning and she’d run late, again. She’d parked down the street from St. Barnabas and walked Brian to the entrance. It saved so much time she was surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Olivia and Fiona had met with a lawyer the previous week to outline a limited partnership agreement. They were signing papers that morning. She wanted to be on time, and she would be if that car would get out of her way.
She glanced over, wondering what the holdup was. It was Tom. He leaned across the passenger seat of his vehicle and gestured for her to lower her window. “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as she did.
When he’d dropped her off on Sunday, she’d exited his car without giving him so much as a kiss on the cheek. She wasn’t angry at him, exactly, just feeling wary. “For what?”
“Springing my mother on you like that. I wanted to surprise you with the garden, but I guess I should have prepared you.”
That wasn’t the problem. The problem was, he’d taken a lot for granted. She didn’t like having her confidences shared without her permission. Her voice frosted over. “No, it was great. I loved the garden.”
“Yes, but things got kind of tense there for a bit.”
Olivia thought about her next words. She’d always hated confrontation, but Brian’s accident had changed her. She’d become bolder. She’d learned to ask for what she needed. If not for herself, for her son. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about Brian’s problems with other people. It’s a sensitive subject for me. I’d rather be the one to decide who I want to tell about it.”
After a stretch of dead air, Tom said. “What a dolt. God, I’m sorry. My students are so much a part of my work life, sometimes I forget they’re somebody’s child. I can be too damn clinical. Can you forgive me?”
He sounded so contrite, she felt herself thawing. “Of course.”
“Will you go out with me again? Or did I totally screw things up?”
She smiled. “I’ll give you another chance if you behave yourself.”
“How about this weekend?”
Too soon. She planned to traverse this road slowly and carefully. She’d already been surprised by one pothole. “How about next? I have Brian this weekend, and I want to do something special with him. Davy took him to the zoo yesterday. He came home all excited about getting a dog. Once again, I’m the bad guy because I said no. I need to come up with something so much fun it’ll drive dogs right out of his head.”
“There’s an event at the Mission on Sunday. They’re doing basket weaving and a Native American storyteller is coming. Doesn’t Brian love all that living history stuff?”
“He does, and he loves the Mission.”
“My mother is on the board. I can get you in for free.”
“You don’t have to...”
“I want to. I’ll even bring a picnic lunch.” A car horn sounded behind them. “I’ll pick you both up at ten. The program starts at 10:30.” He shot her his one-dimpled smile and drove off before she could say yes or no. She guessed she’d be seeing Tom this weekend after all. So much for taking things slow.
***
“Open it.” Fiona grinned at Olivia.
“You shouldn’t have,” Olivia said and stuck a finger under the flap of the envelope Fiona gave her. She pulled out a card depicting a cartoon mother with a harried look on her face holding a squalling infant. On the inside, it read, “Congratulations.”
“Shouldn’t I be giving this to you?” Olivia said, confused.
“I told her that card was silly,” Yasmin said.
“Starting a new business is like having a kid.” Fiona’s voice was deadpan. “They’re a whole lot of trouble. You don’t get any sleep, and it takes about thirty years before they pay off. Welcome to the biz.”
“You’re such an encourager.” Olivia, perched on a stability ball in the big exercise room, wobbled as she leaned over to hug her friend. The rest of the Fishbowl’s staff had come in after the last class of the day on Monday evening to surprise her. They sat on mats or Swiss balls around two Pilates boxes they’d shoved together as a makeshift table, the remains of a large order of Indian food and several empty wine glasses in front of them.
“Hey, I’m just telling it like it is,” Fiona sa
id.
“Here.” Yasmin handed Olivia a big pot of kitchen herbs decoratively planted. “It’s from me, Karen, Airi, and Julianne. Julianne is sorry she couldn’t be here. She’s teaching a class at ABC Pilates tonight.”
“We knew you were into herbs and stuff,” Airi said.
“Thanks. You guys are going to make me cry.” Olivia’s tone was light, but she did feel her throat shutting down. She’d only been at the Fishbowl for two months and three weeks, but already it felt like home.
She looked at the group gathered around her. Karen, the Pilates drill sergeant, who’d intimidated the hell out of her when she was first hired. Yasmin, the lithe dancer, whose dizzy behavior made her irritated and laugh in equal measure. Airi, the tiny, tough yoga instructor, who was as precise and organized as Yasmin was flighty. And Fiona who’d become the closest thing to a sister Olivia had ever had. They were her family now.
“Just don’t get too important to take classes,” Yasmin said.
“She might not have time,” Fiona said. “New business. New boyfriend. She’s a busy woman now.”
“Boyfriend? You’re kidding?” Yasmin slapped Olivia’s arm so hard she almost toppled off her round perch.
“I wouldn’t call him a boyfriend.” Olivia felt her cheeks glow. Probably the wine.
“How many dates have you been on?” Airi asked.
“Three, if I count a quick glass of wine at Turk’s.”
“If he asks you out again, you’re officially dating.” Airi’s tone was definitive.
“Is that some kind of formula? Four dates and you’re dating?”
“Yes. I read it in Cosmo.”
“She’s right.” Fiona chimed in. “It’s the law. Dev says so.” Devon, Fiona’s husband was a family law attorney.
“Whatever. I’m taking things slow.” Olivia reached for her wine glass. She didn’t tell them about her plans to go to the Mission on Sunday with Tom.
“Silly woman,” Karen said.
At eight-thirty Olivia doled out hugs and thanks, gathered her gifts and cards and headed out to her car. Fiona insisted she leave early and let the rest of them clean up and close. The celebration had been for her, after all. She’d offered to stay and help, but they’d shooed her out the door.