Waking Olivia(29)

"As long as that's all she is to you."

I agree because it should be true. Because it needs to be true. There's no other option.



I get back to my mother's around 11. Jessica was clearly unhappy that I  wasn't staying, but her lack of sympathy for Olivia left me not really  giving a shit.

I'm just dozing off when I hear a noise from Olivia's room. She's  flailing in the sheets, saying something over and over. I approach  quietly as she grows more agitated.

"Stop crying," she pleads in a whisper.

I sit on the bed. "Olivia," I tell her, running my hand over her back as if she were a child, "it's okay. You're okay."

She grabs my arm and her eyes fly open. "Stop crying," she begs. "You've got to stop."

"Olivia, you're dreaming. It's okay."

"Please stop crying," she says and then she begins to weep, a small, childlike noise that is hard to listen to.

I pull her to my chest. "It's okay, Olivia. I promise. It's okay."

"Don't cry," she says, over and over. "Don't cry."

When she finally falls back asleep and I emerge from her room, my mother is waiting with her head in her hands.

"You heard that?" I ask, and she nods.

"What on earth happened to that girl and her brother?" she asks.

I wish I knew. And I'm equally scared that someday soon, I'm going to find out.





42





Olivia



I return to my own place on Wednesday.

Both Dorothy and Will encouraged me to stay, insisted really, but I said  no. It can't be good for Will  –  he needs to be working on the farm  instead of entertaining me, and he's risking his job at the school every  time he does it. I guess it's also causing problems with Jessica,  though I don't care as much about that.

Will drives me back before that morning's track practice, swinging my suitcase out of his trunk before he drives off.                       
       
           


///
       

I open the door and come to a dead stop before I'm even over the  threshhold. It's not the same apartment I left on Monday morning.

I call Will immediately. "I've been vandalized," I tell him. "Someone broke into my apartment and furnished it."

"That's an outrage," he replies. "I hope you called the police."

I laugh, and then grow quiet. There's nothing in the world harder for me than what comes next.

"Thank you," I say awkwardly. "I don't know what to say."

"It wasn't a big deal," he replies.

"But all this stuff  …  Where'd you get it?"

"Almost everyone I know has something extra they don't need. You were  also offered a pie safe, whatever the hell that is, and a grandfather  clock, in case you're interested."

It's the first time since I moved out of the dorm my freshman year that  I've had furniture. Now I have a couch, a table, a bed, and a  nightstand. There's even a TV. I wish he hadn't done it. Not because I  don't want the stuff-I love it-but because of the feeling it leaves me  with. The same way I feel after I spend time with Will.

Like I now have something to lose.



The following weekend Will picks me up to go to Dorothy's, and for once,  it's not an act of charity. At least I don't think it is. Dorothy's  asked me to stay over and help with the horses because Will has to  assist with school events for Parent's Visiting Day. I'm not sure if  it's true, but I'm eager to be far away from campus this weekend, so I  agree.

Brendan's car is parked outside. "I didn't know your brother was coming."

"Neither did I," he says, that muscle in jaw popping.

Dorothy and Brendan walk out together. "Olivia!" shouts Brendan as if  we're old friends, grabbing my suitcase and swinging an arm around my  shoulder. "I'll take this in for you. Who's sleeping where?"

"Oh, Will's not staying-"

"She's in my room and I'm on the couch," Will cuts in firmly.

I raise a brow. There is no meet this weekend for him to be concerned  about. Does that mean he's staying to protect his mom from me?

"Worried I can't keep my fists of fury to myself?" I ask dourly.

"Why would I be worried?" he smirks. "I've only witnessed you attempting  to fight two people, excluding the time you took a swing at me."

"Come on," Dorothy says, tugging Brendan in. "Let's give them a minute."

"I would never hurt your mother," I hiss after they've gone inside.

He looks surprised by my vehemence, and his face softens. "I know that, Olivia."

"Then why are you staying?"

"You seem to be forgetting that this is my mother's house. I don't need an excuse to be here."

I stop. "Fine, but I'll sleep on the couch. It's one thing before meets,  but there's no reason you shouldn't have your own room tonight."

"There are miles of woods around here," Will says. "You're not sleeping on the couch and that's final."

I sigh deeply. "It's fine, Will. I haven't been having the dreams as  much, and if I do, I'm not likely to make it far. Running barefoot in  the woods ought to wake me up pretty damn fast."

"What if it doesn't? Do you know how many miles of woods are out there?  You think I'm gonna sleep for shit, worried that I'll wake up in the  morning and discover you've been lost in the woods, freezing for God  knows how long? And if nothing else, I don't want my horndog little  brother coming out to the living room every morning and watching you  traipse around in your pajamas."

"I don't traipse around, first of all, and second of all, I wear running  clothes to bed almost every night so it's not exactly sexy."

"You wear a tight little tank with no bra," he glowers. "That's enough.  Did you see the way he was looking at you just now? Multiply that times  10."

If I didn't know better, I'd think he sounded a little possessive. I  like it. And I like that he seems so intensely aware of what I wear to  bed.

"Okay."

"Okay? You're giving in, just like that?"

I shrug. "Sure. If it means that much to you, I'll do it."

"I guess that's why it's so much colder this afternoon," he says,  opening the door. Brendan and Dorothy stand right on the other side, and  I suspect they were listening. "Hell must've frozen over."                       
       
           


///
       



Dorothy takes me into the kitchen, where she has a list of jobs for me.  More than anything, she seems excited to have someone to cook for again.  "You're sure this is okay?" she asks for the hundredth time. "I'm not  keeping you from a date, am I?"

I laugh. "No."

"From what Will says, you have your pick. I hear you have the entire men's track team and most of the football team on a leash."

"That's a slight exaggeration."

"No it's not. I heard the football players were singing some song at you from the bleachers. It irritated Will to death."

"Everything irritates Will to death," I mutter. "And that song stopped a while ago."

She nods. "Will spoke to the head of the football program about it."

"He told you that?" I ask, surprised the song annoyed him that much. And I thought I was irritable.

"No," she says, suddenly turning pink. "Peter did."



She asks me to set the table, which I'm happy to do until she informs me  we need an extra place setting for Jessica. I dread her arrival long  before it occurs, bracing myself for her big fake smile and big fake  laugh and big tits-sadly, those are probably real-and the way she's  always pawing at Will.

She shows up once again in a suit that looks super expensive-what the  hell does she do for the university anyway? I feel young and silly in my  sweater and jeans. She hugs all of us, though her hug for me is  decidedly stiff with dislike.

"You always do such a nice job with dinner, Mrs. Langstrom," she gushes  as we sit down to eat. She glances pointedly at me. "If I'd known you  had such a crowd, I'd have gotten here sooner to help."

"I've been cooking for a crowd on my own for as long as I can remember," says Dorothy.

"Well, you shouldn't have to," says Jessica, reaching beside her to  clasp Will's hand. "And besides, I want to learn how to make all of  Will's favorite things. Why don't I come by tomorrow? We could make  dinner together."

I wish there were a vomiting trough someplace close by. I catch Brendan's eye. It looks like he needs one too.

"It's really not necessary," says Dorothy with more certainty. "Besides, if I need anything, Olivia can help."

Me? Help in the kitchen? I can't think of a less likely candidate, but I  like the way that Jessica's smile seems to contort around something  very large and very sour. It doesn't even look like a smile anymore,  more of a grimace with teeth.