Owning Olivia

I let Aunt Annie’s voice wash over me as I imagined Olivia sitting behind the bar as she fidgeted with her hair twirling it back and forth between her delicate fingers, poring over the books and doing what she could to help out. How much time had I already blown watching her from afar, too chicken-shit to talk. I needed her and I knew she needed me. I’d been silent for so long. Annie was right, it was time for me to speak.

She took my gun away from me and stuck it in the pocket of her robe. Her hair was in curlers and she was sporting her high-necked nightgown. I was in nothing but ripped jeans, my feet were covered in mud. I’d let the rain wash away my frustrations and now my hair was a wavy mess of tousled curls. We were a motley crew staggering back into the house. Annie made me a sandwich and a giant pot of tea. She filled four glasses of drinking water in front of me without saying much. I rubbed the stubborn scar tissue on my face in the patches where my beard didn’t grow.

I was a fucking mess.

And I was in love.

Her sandwich was so tall it barely kept from toppling when she brought it to me.

“You know the deal. All the water too and then a take an aspirin before you lie down. It’s not your fault if he dies. But it is your fault if you lose the girl because you’re too stubborn to give it a good try.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. I took a reluctant bite of my food.

She ruffled my hair like I was kid, but she had to stand on her toes to do it even though I was sitting. I smiled sheepishly at her affection.

“I love you, Silas. Go get some sleep, you big oaf.”

10

Olivia

My stepfather passed at around four in the morning. I’d been fighting sleep all night, mainly because I didn’t want him to be completely alone if it happened. The nurses checked his vital signs throughout the night so I couldn’t have slept had I wanted to. All the tests had come back with little promising news. His brain activity was nil. His advance directive was to pull the plug. I was thankful that Paul had at least been responsible enough to make his final wishes known. It also made me sad because I knew he’d made those arrangements right after my mother died. As devastated as we were, we were still in a better place than today and oblivious as to what her death would do to us—obliterate our family.

Paul started spiraling even before mom was put into the ground. In some ways, I lost both parents the day she died, because barely-functioning Paul didn’t parent, he just survived, and even his worst days with mom were better than what I was left with.

They shut down the machines around midnight and I assumed it would happen immediately, but he surprised us all by breathing on his own, even though they were shallow, rattled breathes that wouldn’t sustain him for long. I resolved to sit with him until he took his last one. I recounted our better days, including memories of when he and my mom were first together. Those days were golden and the enamored look in my mom’s eyes reminded me of how I felt whenever I was around Silas. I wished he were there to hold my hand, while I held Paul’s, but I understood why he wouldn’t want to be—the two of them had a rocky history that was riddled with my step-dad’s many pitfalls. Paul’s shortcomings were too many to reckon with, but Silas had been good to him in his own way—just and fair—giving him more chances than he deserved over the years. Kyle checked on me many times and sat like a sentry out in the hall. But the only things I needed were time and forgiveness. I wanted to see Paul off with a totally clear conscious—say goodbye to him without holding onto animosity or hard feelings.

When he took his last breath, I felt relief instead of the overwhelming fear I’d imagined. It seemed as if he were falling into a peaceful rest and I pictured him reuniting with my mom without the burden of drugs and dirty money lording over his life.

When I finally left his side, dawn had broken in soft pinks and gold until sunlight eventually flooded the hospital room. Saying goodbye wasn’t hard, because wherever Paul was going, it was better than where he’d been.

Kyle was asleep in a chair, looking both cute and awkward. He’d bundled up his suit jacket for a makeshift pillow and I felt guilt and honor at the fact that he’d stayed through the night.