Jewel Ann - Idle Bloom

I’m not sure when she stops crying or when we fall asleep in each other’s arms. I’m awake again and she’s next to me, her head resting against my chest. If there’s truly a God, then I have to pray that he allowed my heart to whisper all my unspoken emotions. I’m not sure what it really means to bare my soul, but for this woman … I’d give my last breath.

“Oli?” Her voice is barely a whisper. I rest my cheek on her head.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me about Caroline.”

God, the pain is crippling. “We met in college. Married right after graduation and then moved to Portland. Her family is there and that’s where she grew up.”

“Why is she depressed and suicidal?”

The lump in my throat expands to an unbearable size as I feel my pulse begin to race.

“Oli?”

I try to swallow past it. “Our … um…” I try to clear my throat and fight back the emotions that have been haunting me for so long “…our baby died.”

Vivian gasps and looks up at me with her hand covering her mouth. I divert my eyes to the ceiling and blink back the tears. I don’t want to lose it … not now … not in front of her.

“Oh my God!”

I nod and keep looking up, blinking at a furious speed, fighting the fucking tears.

“Oliver, oh my God!” Her hands slide up and cradle my face. The undeserving touch is nearly as painful as the words I could barely speak.

“Flower? Are you here? Oliver?” Alex calls from downstairs.

I sit up and hobble into the bathroom shutting the door behind me. Leaning back against the door, I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck!” I hate this. Memories like this never disappear, but I wish they would. Sometimes I think I need a damn lobotomy. I’d gladly give up the good memories to get rid of the bad. I splash some cold water on my face and go back into the bedroom.

“Hey.” Alex greets me with a wary face, then looks at Vivian sitting on my bed. “What’s going on?”

Vivian glances at me with a sad smile then looks at Alex. “I just came to get my stuff. I didn’t know he was here. My bags are downstairs.”

Alex nods. “You shouldn’t be walking this far yet.”

Vivian scrunches her nose. “I know, it was stupid. I should have waited for you.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ll carry your bags home, and then I’ll come help you back across the street.”

“I’ll get her.”

“Your feet—” Vivian starts to protest.

“They’re fine.” I scoop her off the bed.

“Okay then…” Alex shrugs and walks toward the stairs “…I’ll get the bags.”

I feel her intense gaze on me the entire walk to their place, but I don’t meet them. “Upstairs or down?”

“Leave her down,” Alex answers before Vivian has a chance to respond.

I set her on the couch, but she keeps a hold of my neck until I look at her. “Oli—”

“Remember that look of pity?” I whisper, reaching up to move her hands from my neck.

She nods.

“I don’t want it either.”

She nods again.

“I’ll be around if you need anything. I’m not working again until next week.”

“She won’t.” Alex stands by the door holding it open, no doubt waiting to slam it on me as soon as I step out.

Slam!

Just as I thought.

* * *

Vivian looked miserable today crawling around on her hands and knees. It was probably a real dick move not to help her sooner, but at the time I questioned which was going to be more painful—seeing me or her dealing with her physical injuries. I think it was a tie.

I imagine her smoking pot or inhaling pain pills to ease the misery. Jack is my best friend when it’s time to numb the pain. He has been for the past three years. Vivian took over for Jack for a while, but she’s not at arm’s reach any longer. I know she’s just across the street, but when the loneliness sets in she might as well be on another planet.

My phone chimes and I should be asleep since it’s approaching midnight, but I’m not. Instead, I’m still on my deck, drowning in a sea of misery and Jack. Apparently I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.

Vivian: Can’t sleep. Thinking about earlier, not pity just … thoughts.

Me: Can’t sleep either. Not sure what else to say.

Vivian: Sorry I trashed your place.

Me: That’s pity. You weren’t sorry before we talked earlier.

Vivian: You’re right. I’m still pissed and I get a sadistic pleasure out of seeing your scarred face and gimpy walk.

Me: That’s better.

Vivian: Now I don’t know what to say so … goodnight.

Me: Goodnight, my love.

I erase it and retype the last part.

Me: Goodnight, Vivian.

This afternoon wasn’t a forgive and forget moment. I’m not stupid. My confession gave me a stay of execution, but I have a sick feeling the worst is yet to come. Once the magnitude of what has happened to us over the past week settles in, she’s going to see how fucked-up my life really is … how fucked-up I really am. And she’s going to be gone from my life forever.

* * *

Vivian

I am almost twenty-two years old and I mean it as in only twenty-two years old. Yet I am dealing with a relationship situation that seems like something from a motion picture drama or out of a fictional book. Seriously! I just found out the man I imagined living with forever is married and had a baby that died. That is a crap load of emotional baggage to deal with for anyone, let alone a twenty-two year old who, until recently, still had her V card and has never seen the inside of a college lecture hall or even been on an airplane.

I need to know more, but I’m not sure why. Morbid curiosity? Maybe. Will it change anything? Doubtful. I don’t know how it could.

“What was going on with you two when I showed up yesterday?” Alex hands me a cup of coffee.

I take a sip. “He told me something.”

“And …”

“And I’m not sure it’s my place to share it with you.”

“You cannot be serious. The guy just broke your heart. He lied to you … humiliated you, but you feel obligated to keep some secret for him?”

She’s right. As tragic as his past seems to have been, he could have … should have told me before our relationship got so serious. But I understand that it takes a serious connection to open up to someone about something so personal, so heartbreaking, so life-altering. I’ve been there. I get it.

I bite my lips together and nod. “His secret is on a whole different plane of awful and tragic than mine has ever been, so yes, I feel obligated to keep it, respect his trust.”

“Flower, you amaze me, but not necessarily in a good way. I think it takes a while after you lose your virginity to really find that seasoned tarnish that can only come from being screwed in more ways than one. You, my dear, have a ways to go.”

I laugh. “You should have majored in philosophy.”

“I’m just looking out for you. Nothing good can come from being with a married man, and he knows it too. That’s why he never told you. You’re young, Flower, you need to experience the world—lots of sex with lots of guys.”

“Says my monogamous friend. What makes you think I’m going from virgin to slut? Oliver was different, the exception. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.” I sigh. “I also can’t imagine being with him anymore either. Maybe I’ll go back to Virginville. It really wasn’t so bad there.”

“Liar.”

I grin then look down as it fades. “I love him.”

“Loved.”

“No, I love him still—always. The pain doesn’t take away the love.”

“And the love doesn’t take away the pain.”

I nod and wipe a stray tear. “I wish I would have met him first.”

“Before his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“That would have made you what? Fifteen? Sixteen? Can you say statutory rape?”

“You know what I mean. I thought I came with a lot of baggage, but Oliver’s a damn cargo ship compared to me.”

“That bad?”

I close my eyes and lean back. “That bad.”

* * *

Alex agreed to work for me until I can stand on my own two feet, literally. I’m supposed to go home for my birthday weekend tomorrow, but now I’m trying to figure out how to physically get there and what my explanation will be to my parents.

I hate that I can’t control the excitement I feel when my phone chimes with a text from Oliver. He hurt me, and my heart has that painful memory, but my body didn’t get the memo.

Oliver: How are you feeling today?

Me: Fabulous, LOL, you?

Oliver: Like someone tried to murder me in my own home.

Me: You probably deserved it.

Oliver: I did.

Me: Contemplating the trip home tomorrow. Would it be weird if I crawled at the train station?

Oliver: Not in Boston, but maybe in Hartford.

Me: Wondering what I’ll tell my parents?

Oliver: May I suggest the truth? Lies can be BAD news!

Me: Point taken :(

Oliver: Why don’t you take my car?

Me: I couldn’t. What if something happened to it?

Oliver: It’s insured … like everything in my house was.

Me: Low blow.

Oliver: Sorry. I think I’m the one that broke the only irreplaceable thing that day.

Me: ?

Oliver: Us.

I exit the message screen and toss my phone aside. Where the hell am I? I love him. I hate him. I want to have some self-respect, to stay angry at him, but he lost a child. He has some serious emotional issues and he’s still married. Do I sever all ties with him? Can we be friends or neighbors? Then there is the burning question—why is he divorcing his wife? She lost her baby. I’d probably go insane too. It doesn’t make sense.

Oliver

Key. Lock. Door.

I still can’t open my eyes, but I slide inside the room and collapse down the wall hugging my knees to my chest. The sweat surfaces in an instant. Heart racing, body shaking, the memories still cut too deep. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t now. I just hate her so much.

With each labored breath, I squeeze my eyes shut tighter until all I see is Vivian. Her innocent smile and those loving eyes looking up at me like I’m the reason they dance with life. My life, they dance with my life, and without them I’m not sure I can feel alive. My pulse evens out and I relax my eyes, cracking them just enough to see the blurry white outline. I can’t. Fumbling for the door knob, I fight to get out of the room. I can’t breathe. There’s no oxygen in here … no life.

I need a life again. I need Vivian.

* * *

Me: I’ll “pick you up” at 8 a.m., we’ll stop for donuts and coffee on the way to your parents’ house.

Vivian: ?? Not taking you to meet my parents.

Me: Why not?

Vivian: Um … because they’ll wonder why I’m bringing my married neighbor home with me.

Me: Tell them because he’s crazy-wild-beyond all words in love with you. AND he’ll do ANYTHING to prove it!

Me: Vivian?

Nothing.

I expect a response, at least a “screw you” or something. There’s a knock at my door. Something!

“Prove it.” Vivian stands with her weight shifted to the outer edges of her bandaged feet and slippers.