"Fine," she says, climbing out, "but just for the record, you don't need to have slept with her. It's enough that you've been staying together at your mom's."
And then she leans her head back in and smiles. "When word gets about that, you're royally fucked."
"You're home early," says my mother.
"Yeah," I sigh, flopping down on the couch and closing my eyes.
"Where's Jessica?"
"We broke up."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
I laugh. "No, you're not. You never liked her. You can admit it."
"Jessica had her good qualities," she counters, but even she laughs a little at how insincere she sounds. "So what led to this?"
"She started in on Olivia again and I kind of lost it."
We sit in silence for a moment and I reach for the remote. "So where did Olivia go exactly?" my mother asks.
I don't want to think about Olivia right now. I don't want to think about how enraged I got the moment Jessica spoke against her, or how empty this week will be without her. I turn on the TV, flipping aimlessly through the sports channels.
"To Erin's," I reply.
"Where does Erin live?" my mom asks.
"Why?" I ask, a little sourly. "You planning a rescue mission?"
"No," my mother snaps. "I'm just curious."
I try to remember where Erin calls home. Most of the girls are from Colorado, but for some reason, it seems like she was not. Her parents flew in for that meet they attended. They wouldn't have flown in if they were in-state. And they'd had a layover in Chicago.
New Jersey.
Shit.
I hear my mother saying something, but I'm already out the door.
52
Olivia
I lost.
It's been nearly three days since the meet and that's pretty much the only phrase I've uttered the entire time. I let them all down, but Will most of all. For him to have gotten us into regionals during only his second year of coaching – that would have meant something, and I took it away from him. I took it away from Nicole, who's graduating this year. And what's worse is I allowed it to happen. This wasn't me after a long run. This was me fresh, ready. If I'd given it any thought whatsoever, I'd have known I was going out too fast. But I was anxious and angry and bitter and a little too eager to leave those feelings behind me.
I did this.
A lot of the girls have called or texted to make sure I'm okay, which just makes me feel worse. How can they be so nice to me when I just ruined this for all of them?
I've run almost 30 miles since this weekend's meet and it hasn't gotten rid of this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Guilt. I hurt everyone, destroyed everything: the girls on the team, our chance of going to regionals, and canceling on Dorothy at the last minute just because I was upset at Will.
I look at how badly I've messed up in the last few years: attacking Mark, losing my scholarship, and everything that happened this weekend.
My great-aunt once said that I was the reason my grandmother got sick. I hated her for saying it, I still hate her for saying it, but right now even that seems like the truth.
I'm so used to my isolation that I nearly jump out of my skin when someone starts banging on my door Tuesday night.
"You lied," Will says, storming into my apartment. "You fucking lied to me. You're not going home with Erin."
I put my hands on my hips and attempt to look bored. "Fine, I lied, you caught me," I reply blandly. "So what?"
///
"So why did you do it? You lied to all of us!" He walks an angry path through my apartment, back and forth, building up steam.
"It was a lie," I say coldly. "I lie all the time. I think we've already established that."
"Why would you treat me that way? Treat my mother that way?"
"I'm not a charity case, Will. Your family doesn't have to take me in for every holiday. Consider yourselves off the hook."
"What the hell are you talking about?" he demands. "We wanted you to come."
"Bullshit," I hiss. "You personally couldn't have made it clearer that you wanted to be away from me. And I'm guessing that losing the meet on Sunday only makes that more true. So yeah, I lied. Sue me."
His jaw opens and he stares at me. "God, I want to shake you sometimes."
"Go for it." I shrug. "I've lived through worse."
"Pack your stuff. You're coming home with me."
"No, I'm not. The Olivia Finnegan Charity Project you want to open has come to an end."
"Pull your head out of your ass, Olivia! For some inexplicable reason, my mother adores you." He raises his hands in the air, helpless with frustration, and slams his palms down hard on the counter. "She's at home right now, lamenting the fact that you won't be there, and it turns out you're lying to her in order to avoid it!"
"Of course I lied. That's what I do. All of you should've known not to count on me."
"Is that what this is about? Because you lost?"
I swallow. "No." My throat feels like it's closing in. "But I'm not a part of your family and that was pretty much the end of the cross-country season, so I guess our work together is done." Just saying the words aloud makes me feel adrift in my own grief. I won't be seeing Dorothy again, or the farm or the horses. It's over.
"Olivia, my mother seems to think you're the daughter she never had. So like it or not, you are part of a family. Believe me, I'd have chosen someone a little more even-tempered and less quick to lie or throw a punch, but sometimes you don't get a choice. We want you there, all of us. You filled a hole we didn't even know we had and now you're gone and it's all any of us can see."
I want to scream, or lash out, but something inexplicable occurs instead. I feel like I'm about to cry. I hate that he's mad, I hate that Dorothy is upset, I hate that I lied and that I've been here alone wanting to be with them. I hate that I missed them all. My eyes are filling and my lip is trembling. It's humiliating, and it enrages me that he and his mother have made this happen. That thing inside my chest twists, too hard this time.
Suddenly he looks like he's been hit. "Are you crying?" he asks.
"No," I rasp, even as I feel tears rolling down my face. I turn away from him and head toward the bathroom. "Go home."
He grabs my arm and swings me back, into him, looking astonished and saddened and hopeful all at the same time. "You are crying." His arms go around me, tucking me into him, my head just under his chin. "Livvy, I'm so sorry."
I try to push him off and he holds on tighter. "It's okay to cry once in a while." My shoulders shake and I say nothing, but I no longer fight. The small explosion has triggered an earthquake, and it scares me. It seems as if there is no end to it, no bottom.
So I cry. I cry so ridiculously long and hard that it seems unbelievable to me and still the tears don't stop. He maneuvers me to the couch and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest.
"I can't stop," I laugh and cry at the same time.
His hand runs over my hair. "I know," he says. "It's okay."
I cry until I'm exhausted, until the weight of fatigue steals over me. I cry until there's nothing left, and then I fall asleep.
I wake entangled with him, the two of us curled into each other on our sides in a space not even meant for one, my head on his shoulder, his arm draped over my waist, one of my legs pinned between his. He is sound asleep. If I were a better person I'd wake him, or at least go to my bed and let him have the whole couch. But I'm not a better person, so I snuggle in and go back to sleep.
The next time I wake the room is light. I've turned over so my back is to his front and I can feel something insistent pressing against my ass even through my jeans and his.
I laugh. "I guess you're awake, perv."
He groans. "That doesn't make me a perv. Every time I tried to move, you pushed your ass against me again."
///
I wiggle and I feel him groan as I much as I hear it. "Don't notice you trying to move now."
"If you'd get off of me I would," he snaps. "You're a very hard person to be nice to sometimes."
I laugh and sit up, and so does he, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"For what?" he asks without looking up.
"For giving you shit just now. And for lying."
"You know it'd break my mom's heart if she found out."
"You're not going to tell her, are you?" I plead.
"No," he says. "Because you're going to come home with me and tell her your plans changed. So, as I said about eight hours ago, go pack your shit."