Olivia (8 page)

“
Thanks,” I said to him. He lifted
his hands and pushed my hair off of my forehead so I could see him
better. I kept my eyes on his, scared to look elsewhere. He moved
his hands to the back of my neck and leaned in to kiss
me.

Tentative, I put my hands on his hips, but as our
kisses became more needy, I held his head to mine, too. I broke
away, in need of some air. He started kneading my shoulders,
watching me as I caught my breath. His eyes moved from mine and
began to travel down my body. I watched his expression, hoping he
liked what he saw. By the time he looked back up at me, I realized
I’d been holding my breath, and still couldn’t breathe
normally.

“
You can look, too,” he’d
suggested, and my whole body turned bright red. I could feel the
rush of heat. As I surveyed him, my hands traced over his chest and
the abdominal muscles I’d already been acquainted with. I was
surprised to see what was just a few inches beneath them. “Don’t be
scared.”

I looked back up at him quickly. “I’m not.” I smiled
at him, and we both kept our eyes open this time as we kissed. Mine
closed when he stepped toward me, and I could feel his whole body
pressed up against mine.

His hands explored my backside slowly. I stood
relatively still, my fingernails digging into his back as if I was
holding on for dear life. He pulled away with purpose, and waited
for me to open my eyes. “You are beautiful, Olivia.”

I released my tight grip and moved my hands to his
face, my thumbs playing with his earlobes. “So are you.” His lips
met mine once more and we kissed for a few minutes before deciding
to actually get cleaned up. Hands explored bodies in ways they
never had as we made sure every inch had been covered in the shower
gel. We took turns washing the suds away.

He got out first, wrapping himself in a towel before
handing me one. I asked for a few minutes of privacy while I got
ready.

I’d thought about wearing the bustier that I bought
for prom night, the night we had first planned on being together,
but it felt far too sexy and daring for the way I was feeling. I
was glad I had brought an alternative.

I brushed my long, wet hair after towel-drying it as
best as I could. After putting on the satin slip with lace trim, I
wished it was a few inches longer. The yellow fabric looked nice
against my tanned skin, and I was happy with the color choice I’d
made. When I thought about Jon, waiting in the next room, a smile
formed across my lips with no effort. I suddenly had no anxiety or
apprehension, and I walked out of the bathroom, excited and
exuberant.

Jon had pulled back the blankets and was sitting
with his back against the padded headboard. He had on dark grey
boxers. His short hair was wet and messy. He looked sexier than I’d
ever seen him before.

As I sat next to him on the bed, my legs stretched
in front of me, my phone rang. It was late–too late for someone to
be calling without a good reason. Jon picked up my phone.

“
Donna,” he said.

“
I wonder what she wants at this
time–oh, it’s still early in New York,” I said, silencing the phone
and motioning for Jon to put it back on the nightstand. “I’m sure
she just wanted to find out how the wedding went last
night.”

He nodded and smiled, dragging a few of his fingers
up my thigh before stopping at the light green lace trim on the
bottom hem.

“
You look like happiness,” he’d
said. “Like sunshine. You should wear that color more
often.”

“
You like it?” I asked
coyly.

“
I love it.” He put his fingers
under my chin and turned my head to face him. “Thank you.” His gaze
was intense and sincere, his smile subtle but still reaching his
eyes. It was the first of many times he would thank me that
night.

When I put my hand on his chest as we kissed, I
could feel his heart pounding as quickly and as hard as mine was.
He gently laid me back on the bed, never once breaking away from
our embrace. He was so slow and deliberate about every move he
made, every kiss, every touch. With some things, it seemed like he
was
too
slow, my desire for him taking
over at times and causing me to be impatient. This always happened
when we made out, and in most of those previous times, when we knew
we wouldn’t go all the way, Jon got swept up in those moments,
too.

He didn’t take advantage of the weakness I’d had
that night in Mykonos, though, instead maintaining the slow and
thoughtful pace during our entire night together. He had to talk me
through a few moments, and wiped a few tears away, but never once
did he rush me.

As his arm held my body close to his, my head rested
on his chest and I was able to feel his breathing and heart rate
return to something close to normal. Although, what normal was, I
wasn’t entirely sure of anymore, because normal for us would never
be the same.

Sex itself wasn’t what I expected. It certainly
wasn’t what I’d seen in movies, and I wondered many times what I
was doing wrong to not be enjoying it as much as I should have
been. It hurt–a
lot
. The actual act was
not pleasurable to me, but I didn’t tell Jon. He’d been so careful
and so thoughtful, and just the way he was that night had its own
special gratification. I would cherish that, but I hoped it
wouldn’t always be so painful. I hoped I would someday be able to
enjoy it the way the women in movies did–and the way that Jon
did.

Even with my misgivings and slight disappointment, I
felt a certain sense of accomplishment. I was finally able to
understand what Jon meant when he would tell me he was satisfied
just knowing that he could make me feel that way; that he could
evoke such untamed passion in me. I got a glimpse of it that night,
and I was genuinely happy to see
his
passion, and to witness such vulnerability in the person that I
loved.

All of that disappeared before either of us had time
to wake up the next morning. A quick knock on the door jolted us
from our sleep before the sun had even risen. We both lay still in
bed, confused.

“
Livvy? Jon? It’s Matty. Open
up.”

“
Oh, my god,” I said, my heart
racing as I sat up in bed. My body ached at the movement; at
any
movement, really.

“
It’s okay,” Jon whispered, running
his hand up and down my arm.

“
You
get
it. I don’t want him to know what we did.”

“
Olivia, come on. He already
knows.”

“
He only thinks he knows what we
were
going
to do...”

“
Liv,” he said, his voice
pleading.

“
It’s your room,” I argued. Matty
knocked again.

“
It’s
our
room,” he countered. “He’s your uncle.
You
get it.” He leaned over to get a robe from a chair and handed it to
me. I took a deep breath before going to the door, wrapping the
robe tightly around my sore body. I opened up the door just a
crack, purposefully leaving the lights off.

“
Little Liv,” Matty said, looking
awful. He must have had a good time the night before. “Sorry to
wake you,” he apologized.

“
Are you okay?” I laughed at him.
He looked oddly reminiscent of how he looked the previous
morning.

“
No, sweetie,” he said, his tone
serious. “Your dad’s on his way here. His jet just landed and he’ll
be here in about forty-five minutes.” The lights flipped on behind
me and I looked back at Jon, who was hurriedly putting his boxers
back on. When he got to the door, he opened it up wider to talk to
my uncle.

“
Why?” he’d asked, completely
mortified.

“
It’s not what you think. He
doesn’t know about this arrangement, don’t worry.”

“
Well, why is he coming?” I
asked.

Matty pressed his lips together in obvious
hesitation. “Your dad wanted to tell you himself, in person. I told
him you were sound asleep when he called early this morning.”

“
Is Mom okay?”

“
Your mom’s fine. Your brother’s
fine.”

“
Dad?”

“
He’s fine, too. It’s Donna, Little
Liv.”

“
What about her?” My breathing
quickened and Jon put his hands on my shoulders, gripping tightly.
He moved me out of the doorway and pushed the door open with his
foot, allowing my uncle inside our room. I couldn’t move on my own,
my knees locked as I waited for him to answer.

“
She collapsed at home last night,”
he said. “An aneurism or something.”

“
She’ll be okay, though, right?” I
saw Matty’s expression change, and I could tell Jon saw it, too,
when he wrapped his arms around my body. He caught me as I started
to fall to the ground and helped me over to the bed. “Please,” I
whispered, “tell me she’ll be okay.”

I only saw his head shake once before I buried my
own in Jon’s chest. He held me tight while I sobbed against him.
They continued talking, but I couldn’t comprehend a thing they
said. I heard the door close as Jon laid me back down on the bed. I
missed his warmth, and curled into a ball. He tucked the blankets
back over me, and I numbly watched him hurriedly pack our things
into the suitcases while the tears continued to stream. I heard him
turn on the faucet in the bathroom. He came over to the bed and
told me I needed to take a shower. I told him I didn’t want to, but
one step in front of the mirror convinced me otherwise. He showered
with me again, but this time, he was the only one applying the
shower gel and wiping away the soap. I stood with my back to him,
arms crossed; just how he had first found me the night before.

He kissed my shoulder once after he turned the water
off. He toweled me off and handed me some underwear and a robe.
“You better go next door to finish getting ready. If your dad’s
early, we’re dead.” As soon as he said the word, he cringed. “I’m
sorry,” he said as more sobs erupted. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated,
pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly against his wet,
naked body. My tears mixed with the rest of the water droplets on
his skin.

Someone knocked on the door, and we both froze.
“It’s Matty, guys. You’ve got to open up.” Jon grabbed a towel and
wrapped it around himself, leaving me in the bathroom where I sunk
to the floor, still in shock and in tears. My uncle helped me to my
feet this time and grabbed my suitcase as he guided me out of the
room.

Jon handed me my phone on the way out. As I looked
at it to check the time, I saw the display:

Donna Wilson-Shraeder (Missed 3 calls)

It also showed I had one voicemail from her. I’d
forgotten she’d called the previous night, just before... I berated
myself for not taking the call.
Why had I
silenced the phone? I would have answered on the second call, had I
known!

When we got into the adjoining room, I listened to
the voicemail as Matty finished packing his things.

“
Your parents tell me you’re in
Greece with Jon and your uncle,” she began. “I’d forgotten about
that. I hope you’re behaving yourself.” She laughed a little, but
it sounded strained. “Sweetie, I need you to call me as soon as you
get this message. It’s important. I love you.” Her last two
sentences seemed slurred.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and checked for
another message, but it was the only one she’d left. I checked my
texts, my emails, hoping for some other communication from her, but
there were none.

What was important?

Did she know she was dying? Did
she call to tell me goodbye?
Her calls were placed minutes
apart from one another. I couldn’t help but think that maybe I was
dreaming. In a daze, I tried to call her back.

After one ring, the call was answered. “Livvy?” It
was her husband, James.

“
Can I talk to Granna?” I asked,
sniffling, but waiting for the handoff. I wanted to hear her voice
one more time.

“
Livvy...” That was all he needed
to say to evoke another fit of tears.

“
She... called... me,” I told him,
gasping for breath in between words.

“
Did she?”

“
Last night. She said she had
something important to tell me.”

“
I’m not sure what it was, Livvy,”
he said softly. “Maybe she knew, I don’t know. Every time I checked
on her, she’d tell me not to worry; that she didn’t want to burden
me, and that she’d be fine. I should have trusted my gut instinct
to take her to the hospital.” His voice was full of remorse, and I
felt bad for him, and even worse for myself. Maybe she was going to
tell me how she felt. Now I’ll never know. “I loved her so much,”
he muttered.

Jon walked in the open door and stood across the
room from me, bags in hand.

“
I loved her, too,” I whispered, my
throat tight. “Do you think she knew that I loved her?”

“
You told her often,” he
says.

“
We’re coming home,” I
explained.

“
I’ve spoken with Jack.”

“
Are you okay?”

He paused, then cleared his throat. “I’m not sure.”
The way he said it, though, I wasn’t sure, either. “I’ll see you
when you get back in town.” He’d hung up before I could tell him
goodbye. I could only assume he was trying to hide his emotions
from me.

A minute later, my father was at the door. Jon kept
his distance from me, but I could tell he was concerned. Dad looked
worse than my uncle did, dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes. He
took one look at me, and I rushed into his arms, crying. He held me
tight, and he was quiet at first before he started talking to my
uncle.