Olivia (9 page)

“
Is everyone packed?”

“
Yeah,” he’d answered.

“
Why is that bed still made?” Dad
asked curiously. I glanced over, and saw a mint on the pillow. I
prayed for someone to come up with an answer, because I knew I
couldn’t.

“
This was my room,” Jon said
quickly, as if he’d been anticipating the question.

“
Yeah, Livvy and I were next door,”
Matty lied. “Sorry, I gave you the wrong room number,
huh?”

My dad didn’t answer, and I didn’t bother to look up
to see his expression. Even if he didn’t believe the story, I knew
he wouldn’t confront us now. He hugged me into him tighter and
kissed the top of my head. It made me cry harder.

“
Tessa, shhh...” he whispered.
“Where’s her bag?”

“
I’ve got it,” Jon answered. “We’re
ready.”

“
Grab some tissues,” Dad suggested,
and I saw Matty returning to the bathroom to get some. “Did you
check out, Matthew?”

“
I did.”

“
Let’s get going.”

“
Where’s Mom?” I asked as we walked
to the awaiting car.

“
Mom, Jackson and Kelly all caught
a commercial flight to New York early this morning.”

“
What’s Lexi going to do?” Granna
and my cousin had grown close over the past year when Lexi was
teaching music classes at the Art Room.

“
I think Steven and Renee convinced
her to go on her honeymoon. I know Donna would have wanted that.
After all, it was her suggestion to go to Thailand.”

We took a small jet to London, and transferred to a
larger private plane that carried us back to the States. Dad spent
a lot of time on the phone with Granna’s husband and friends,
offering to make calls and other arrangements for them. She had no
other family, but she had a lot of friends–a lot of friends who
hadn’t yet heard about her death.

As Dad retold the story of her passing in phone
calls between conversations with his brother, Jon and I sat a few
rows behind them in the plane. He let me lean against him until his
arm got sore, and then I moved to lay my head down on a pillow in
his lap. We didn’t say much to one another over the long flight
home, but what we did say were reassurances to one another. I had
made sure he knew I loved him and had no regrets. I tried to sleep,
but it was restless, and I was also preoccupied with Granna’s
message, and couldn’t wait to hear it again once we landed. I
thought I might be in a better frame of mind now to hear something
in her voice: something that might have given me a clue about her
reason for calling me. After all, I was pretty sure she had told me
she loved me in the message. That couldn’t have been the reason for
the call.

“
Earth to Livvy,” Camille says as
she snaps her fingers in front of my face. I can feel the heat on
my cheeks and feel the lump in my throat, my emotions mixed and
confused, remembering what it felt like that next day. The
experience between Jon and me was marred by horrible news, and
guilt had overcome me. Although I know there is no logical reason
behind my feelings, I truly feel like the night I spent with Jon in
Greece was the karmic impetus for what happened in New York that
same evening. Would she have died if we hadn’t gone all the way?
Could I have helped her if I’d taken the call? It’s something I
don’t like to think about.

“
What?” I ask, smiling
inquisitively, innocently.

“
Daydreaming?”

“
Maybe a little,” I say. “And
wondering how Jon’s doing today. I think I’ll go try to call
him.”

My friends wave as I leave the table and make my way
outside to the courtyard. The sky is growing dark, rainclouds
moving in. I sit down on a concrete bench, purposefully facing the
flowerbed and not the street, just in case there are any
photographers nearby. I’m constantly on alert these days, and I
don’t like that very much.

I know Jon won’t answer his phone, but I try him
once more anyway. I leave him a voicemail, feeling more reflective
than usual and wishing he was with me to get my mind off
things.

“
Hi. I was just thinking about
Mykonos and wondering... you know. If we hadn’t... if you hadn’t...
you know what? Nevermind. I’m just rambling. I miss you. When can I
see you again? Call me tonight, if you’re not too busy.”

What if we’d stayed in England? Jon and I wouldn’t
have been given the opportunity to be alone. I’m sure I would have
answered my phone. Maybe I could have helped her.
Would she still be alive?

It’s a dumb question. How could our relationship
have anything to do with Granna’s fate? It’s completely
unrealistic. I know this. The guilt still eats away at me, though,
to the point that I feel like I might throw up.

Chewing tentatively on the inside of my cheek, I
think about the project we were given in physics this morning. I
have to construct a mini roller coaster this semester. It has to
carry a ball through two full cycles. Taking out my notebook, I
start to draw some preliminary sketches. I’m certain I could do
this project on my own, but I know this is something Jon would
excel at. It’ll give us more time together, if he has time to help
me. When I finish the drawing, I snap a photo with my phone and
send it to him, asking for his thoughts. Content that I now have an
excuse to see Jon for school purposes during the week–knowing my
dad will attempt to limit our time together as much as possible–I
return to the building and find my way to the next class.

On Thursday evening, I stake out a place on the
metal staircase that leads up to Nate’s gallery, waiting for class
to let out. I’d waited at the end of my street for awhile, watching
until there were no loiterers with cameras outside the building
before slowly wandering up to the Art Room. I never had any
intention of teaching with Jon tonight, but I wanted to make some
effort to show that I was trying. I hope he’ll be surprised to see
me, and understanding about my absence again this week.

When a couple approaches, I pull my hood over my
head and slump my shoulders, hiding my identity as best as I can.
I’d been purposeful about my clothing tonight, opting for ratty
sneakers and baggy jeans that I bought for this exact purpose.
People had come to expect me in dresses and heels, and normally my
desire to dress for Jon wins out over to my inclination to hide
from the public, but this isn’t our normal date night.

“
What are you doing, Olivia?” Jon
laughs, and I look up at him.

“
How’d you know it was
me?”

“
I know your posture,” he says. “I
know your form. Every detail. You may be able to hide from
strangers, but I know you better than anyone.”

I stand up and welcome his arms around me. His kiss
is quick, but sweet.

“
How was class?” I ask
him.

“
Great,” he says. “We stuck with
sketching tonight. I went over different shading techniques.
Remember Darcy?”

“
Of course,” I tell him, taking his
hand in mine and beginning our short walk to my house. Darcy is
ten–very talented, but incredibly shy. She has fantastic ideas, and
last year, we worked with her to give her the confidence to speak
up or to act on her imaginative creations. I suspect her home life
teaches her the opposite.

“
She volunteered to draw with me in
front of the class. I’ve never seen her so motivated and
inspired.”

“
What did she draw?”

“
A self-portrait. But in her
shading, Liv... she appeared to be drawing bruises.”

“
What?”

“
Yeah. On her arms and legs. I told
your Mom. She held her back to talk to her.”

“
Mom doesn’t have experience with
those things. That was Granna’s forte.” I look away as soon as I
see the sorrow in his eyes.

“
Emi looks tired, Liv.”

“
She’s taking on too much,” I
acknowledge. I know it’s wearing her out. “She needs
help.”

“
Maybe you–”

“
Jon?” I stop him abruptly, shaking
my head. He releases my hand and puts his arm around me, pulling my
body into his as we continue to walk down the street. He knows not
to say anymore about it.

He stops walking when his phone rings. We release
one another and move closer to the building, allowing others to
pass us.

“
Hey, Will,” he says. I run my
fingernails up and down his bare arms, trying to distract him. He
shifts his eyes to mine and smiles, clearly liking what I’m doing.
As he listens to his brother, he runs his fingers through my hair.
“No, simmer is
low
heat. No, well then you
wrote it down wrong. Trust me, I know.” He covers the mic and
whispers to me, “Mom didn’t come home and he burned the only thing
he had in the house to cook.”

“
She didn’t come home?” I ask him.
He shakes his head in obvious disappointment.

“
It’s okay, Will. Put Max on...
hey, kiddo. I know you’re hungry,” he says to his youngest brother
with a chuckle. “No, you won’t starve. I’ll bring you two
something, okay? Anything you want.”

I sigh, slumping my shoulders, realizing that he’s
not going to hang out with me at the house tonight. I walk a few
steps away, leaning against the brick wall and picking at my
fingernails while he takes orders from his brothers.

“
Chicken nuggets,” Jon tells me
after he hangs up. “I hate that his favorite food is chicken
nuggets. Not to mention it’s past his bed time and the poor thing
hasn’t had dinner.”

“
Where’s your mother?” I ask
him.

He shrugs. “It’s the second time she’s done this
since I left for college. I mean, they’re already left to fend for
themselves on Wednesdays because she has to work the dinner shift,
but she’s supposed to be there the rest of the week. This can’t
continue,” he mutters, tipping my head up with his index finger.
“I’m sorry, baby.”

“
Me, too,” I tell him, jutting my
bottom lip out. He weaves his fingers between mine and starts
walking again toward my house. When we reach the corner, I glance
into the yard, noting how quiet it is outside.

“
Where’s your dad?” Jon
asks.

“
Trey had a parent-teacher night at
school,” I explain. “I think they were going to pick Mom up at the
Art Room and go get cupcakes at the bakery.”

“
Wait, so no one’s
home?”

“
Nope.”

“
Man, Liv. I’m
really
sorry now. We could have been
alone?”

“
Not for long, but
yeah.”

“
This sucks... but hey,” he says,
his voice becoming cheerful. “In two nights, it’s just me and you,
right? All night?”

I feel my cheeks turn pink at the thought of it, and
I can’t help but smile. My stomach flutters in nervous jitters.
“All night,” I whisper, unable to look him in the eyes.

“
I can’t wait, Olivia. I mean,
we’ve waited so long for this. We should go somewhere romantic for
dinner... or maybe cook?”

“
We have to have dinner with
Abram,” I remind him of the meeting my agent had set up.

“
Oh, I forgot.” He crinkles his
nose. He’s never been a big fan of Abram’s.

“
But hey, we are going somewhere
romantic. He wants to go to La Créme.”

“
I don’t even know what that
is.”

“
I just know my parents have gone
there on date nights. They’re really good about maintaining some
level of privacy. Abram suggested it to keep the photographers at
bay.”

“
A romantic dinner for
three
,” Jon says in a mangled British accent. “I’m
so
chuffed.”

“
You’re a dork,” I tease him once
we get across the street. “Go get your chicken nuggets so Max won’t
starve.”

“
But I’m hungry, too,” he says with
an intense gaze.

“
For?” I wrap my arms around him
and hug him tightly, looking up at him expectantly.

“
You,” he says seriously, making my
heart skip a beat. “For a kiss.”

“
Make it good,” I challenge him.
“Make it count.”

He grins, clearly accepting the challenge, and his
hands move to the nape of my neck. Before he leans in, we both
check our surroundings, making sure we don’t have an audience.
Feeling safe that we’re alone, he angles my head to the right and
moves in slowly, beginning the kiss tentatively, like he’s teasing
me.

“
I said, make it count,” I remind
him. Before I even realize what he’s doing, his left hand moves to
my lower back to support me while he dips me theatrically and
allows his lips to attack mine. I giggle through the kiss until I
lose my footing and fall back onto the lawn. Even though I know he
could have stayed upright, he comes with me, laughing with me in
the grass.

“
So what do your brothers do on
Wednesdays for dinner?” I ask him.

“
I take them for a sandwich or
something.”

“
Come over,” I urge him. “Bring
your brothers. That way we can see each other another night, and
all three of you can have a home-cooked meal.”

“
I don’t want to burden your
parents,” he says, shaking his head.