Idle Bloom

Chapter Nineteen Mrs. Konrad

Vivian

How is it that Oliver can choose not to disclose his past, let me move in with him, not share what’s behind that stupid locked door, and avert all discussion about anything that makes him uncomfortable, yet I am always the one apologizing? I’ve spent the entire ride back to Cambridge going through my speech in my head. There will be an apology on my part, but there will also be disclosure on his.

It’s after nine at night by the time we arrive home.

“Good luck, Flower.” Alex hugs me. “My door is always open if he kicks you out.”

With a roll of my eyes, I laugh. “Go ahead and lock your door tonight. No worries, I’ve got this.”

Sean hugs me. “Do your worst, Viv, and if all else fails take off your clothes.”

As if on cue, Sean gasps for air as he hugs his gut and buckles his knees. Alex adheres to the strict motto. “Spare the junk punch, spoil the boyfriend.”

“Get your ass inside instead of talking through it. Flower isn’t going to take off her clothes like some pathetic bimbo to make her apology more believable. Now go!” She points to her red door and Sean scampers off like an injured animal.

After he’s inside she turns to me. “You’re totally going to have to strip, but then you make sure you milk the upper hand. Got it? Work that hot body of yours and by morning he’ll be confessing like a Cardinal with a room full of altar boys. Now go!”

I open my mouth and she presses her finger to it. “Go!”

Lugging my bags up the stairs, I look back once more before opening the door. Alex gives me the shoo signal so I go inside. There’s a small light on in the living room, but I don’t see or hear Oliver.

“Oli?”

No answer.

I drop my bags and walk upstairs. No Oliver.

Going back down the stairs I call his name again. No answer.

There are no notes on the counter and his car is out front, but it’s possible he’s walked somewhere or he could be with Chance, but he doesn’t usually leave on the lights. I walk past the patio door and freeze when I see a shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye. Opening the door, I spot him reclining in a chair with his back to me and the porch light off.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me?”

“I did.”

I step out on the deck. He doesn’t look at me.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say.” He holds up a familiar bag, but still doesn’t look at me. “You need to take this and the rest of your stuff and leave.”

I take the bag from him. “You’re kicking me out?”

He nods.

“Because of a little weed?”

He turns with bug eyes. “A little weed? You have an illegal drug in your possession. I’m not getting involved with a pothead! Maybe you’re going through some college experimental phase, but I’m not.”

“I’m not a pothead you idiot! I’ve never smoked it, ate it, bonged it, or whatever the hell people do with it. I brought it home for your birthday to share.”

He laughs with insane hysteria. “To share? This was my birthday present? You bought me marijuana for my birthday?”

“I didn’t buy it and it’s not your present. Maggie sent it home with me after I told her you were acting weird Friday morning.”

He sits up and runs his fingers through his hair while shaking his head. “Where did Maggie get this and why were you telling her about us?”

“What do you mean where did she get this? She’s been growing it since she was first diagnosed with cancer years ago, hence the name, The Green Pot! And I have to talk to someone about us because you sure as hell don’t want to talk about anything.”

“I can’t do this.” He stands and brushes past me.

“You can’t do what?” I follow him into the house. “Us? Pot?”

“Either … both.” His back is to me, hands resting on his hips, head bowed.

It hurts to breathe. The pain in my chest is crushing. “I came home, or here…” I shake my head “…I guess I don’t even have a home anymore.” I blink back my tears. “I was going to tell you that I was sorry. Nothing happened between me and Kai, but staying with him was wrong, and hurtful, and … naive. I was going to ask you to share your past with me, to trust me with all of you the way I’ve trusted you with all of me. There was so much I wanted to say, but now … I see that it doesn’t matter.”

The tears can no longer be blinked away. I sulk to the door and pick up my bags, but I don’t turn back to look at him. “So I guess the only apologies you want to hear are these … I’m sorry I’m too young and stupid and that for one night I was going to smoke a joint just to see what it was like. I’m sorry you can’t be intimate with me without envisioning some other guys cock in my whore of a mouth. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve embarrassed you, but please, please don’t ask me to be sorry about us.” A strangled sob escapes as I grab the doorknob. “I’ll ge-get the rest of my stu-stuff tomorrow … when you-you’re g-gone.”

Oliver

She’s gone and I said nothing … absolutely nothing. My condo feels empty just like my heart and my life again. I’ve reached the point in this relationship that I no longer know who I’m trying to protect, her or me. My heart thunders in my chest when there’s a knock at the door. She’s back!

I open it.

Smack!

The sting on my cheek is more shocking than painful as I stare down at Alex and her fiery scowl.

“You’re a fucking moron to let her walk out of your life. I hope I’m around to see the misery on your pathetic face when an amazing guy that deserves her snatches her up and you’re left with nothing!” She stomps back across the street and gives me the bird before closing her door.

The cheap shrink in my head, the one that usually shows up at times like this, must be on vacation. I’ve got nothing. I need to rationalize that I don’t deserve her, that we’re both better off without each other. I’m too old for her and my past is not something she deserves. In a month she’s going to be in college and I’m floundering around with my brother and a dwindling savings account. The best of me is gone and the best of her is still on the horizon.

I shut off the lights and collapse onto my bed—my lonely bed. Then it hits me. That’s it. I’m the sunset, she is the sunrise, and the only thing between us is a world of darkness.

I bolt up from the bed. Crap! I’ve fucked up!

It’s a little after eleven, but I see lights on through their windows. No doubt a male-bashing fest has ensued since Alex physically assaulted me. Crossing the street feels like breaching the frontline and all I’m armed with is “I am the darkness and you are my light?” If I don’t come up with something better than that I might as well shove a sword through my own chest. I’ve already used up the gold standard, “I love you.” Now what? I want you? I need you? The sex is amazing? Yeah, that’s the one.

I knock on the door and pray the right words will magically find their way from my mouth to her ears. Alex answers with a smug grin.

“Come back for round two?”

“Where is she?”

“Flower is … busy. Maybe you should come back in the morning.”

I push the door open easily overwhelming her attempts to keep me out.

“Oliver!”

I scan the main level then head up the stairs; a pungent odor fills the air. Opening the door to Vivian’s room I’m greeted with bloodshot eyes and a lazy smile.

“Oli,” she says before taking another drag of her joint then coughing.

I take the joint and toss it in the coffee mug on the floor next to her bed. There’s also a box of sugar cookies, a bag of chips, and a bowl of pistachios on the floor. She plops back on the bed and closes her eyes.

“You must be feeling pretty smug, Mr. Konrad.” She giggles. “You nailed it. I’m a pothead. Maggie was right … don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Let’s go.” I lift her off the bed, cradled in my arms.

“Put me down! I’m not going with you!” Her attempts to kick and flail are weak and pathetic.

I wasn’t planning on going the caveman route, but then again, I wasn’t planning on her being high either.

“Alex!” she yells as I carry her to the door.

Alex hops off the couch and comes at me.

“Back the hell off!” I glare at her.

She gasps as if no one has ever put her in her place before, then she does something I’m not expecting. She opens the front door and grins.

“Take care of her.”

I pause only for a moment then nod as I take a now passed-out Vivian to my place.

She needs a shower and her teeth brushed to rid the smell of marijuana from her body, but right now I don’t care. I lay her on the bed and remove all of our clothes. A single thread is too much separation when I have such an intense craving to feel the touch of her skin against mine. I wrap my body around hers and let myself drift off to sleep in peace, a peace that will evaporate in the morning. Tonight, however, I just need this … I need us.

Vivian

I’m rethinking the weed idea. Foggy head, pulsing brain, and it must be one hundred degrees in here. Here? Where am I? What time is it? Why can’t I move?

The heavy feeling on my chest lifts as I remove the arm draped over me. I’m naked and so is Oliver. Great. I know we didn’t have sex; that I would remember. Pervert!

Easing off the bed, being careful not to wake him, I look for my clothes. After getting dressed, I tiptoe downstairs. It’s four-thirty in the morning so I’m going to leave before the sun, and Oliver, rise. Apparently we need to talk, but not naked in his bed. I look for my shoes but don’t see them. Reaching for the doorknob, I notice a pile of mail on the entry table. What catches my eye is the return address on the corner of an envelope sticking out from the middle of the pile. It’s from a hospital in Portland. The fine print below the name reads: Mental Health and Chemical Dependency Care.

Walk away!

I can’t. My curiosity has morphed into a monstrous need to know about Oliver’s past. I rip open the envelope. The cover letter explains the enclosed information is an emergency contact update for a Caroline Konrad.

Mark the “No Changes” box, sign and date if all the information is still correct.

The next page has Oliver’s name, address, e-mail, phone number, and relationship to patient.

Husband.

Bile races up my throat leaving a wake of acidic burn, and my heart pounds with anger as my blood runs toxic. Somewhere in my heart or soul I have to be crushed beyond words, but right now my mind is a volcanic eruption of anger and unfathomable rage. I think I could kill him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I’m in his room within seconds … and then it begins.

“You have a fucking WIFE!” I think he startles awake, but I can’t tell for sure because all I see is red. One picture frame, then another thrown in his direction. A bookend, a vase, his shoes, a clock, all shattering and banging against the wall, his headboard, and even him.

“Vivian!” He stumbles around trying to find his balance in the midst of the debris coming at him.

I yank one dresser drawer out and heave it in his direction, then the next, and yet another until clothes are scattered everywhere and he’s charging at me.

“No!” I yell, grabbing the back of the empty dresser and tipping it forward to block his approach. I run into the hall ripping framed art and pictures off the wall, leaving a wake of broken glass behind me. Down the stairs I run into the kitchen flinging open cupboard doors.

“Bastard!” I repeatedly throw glasses, plates, cans, and jars in his direction. “You’re a fucking liar! How could you?”

“Vivian! STOP!” The roar of his voice can’t compete with the hurricane of deafening emotions in my head.

Shot glasses. Whisky bottles. Coffee mugs.

Clank! Bang! Crash!

I’m running out of ammunition, then I glance up and see the pots and pans hanging from the suspension rack. Climbing onto the island, I grab two at a time from their hooks and hurl them at Oliver. Sometimes I hear the crash of my miss, other times I hear a thwack and a few expletives when my aim is perfect. After the last pan has been launched, I see a bloodied Oliver lumbering toward me. I look behind but there’s no escape, so I leap with every last bit of energy I can muster and take him to the ground.

Thud!

Darkness.

Beep … beep … beep …

A flash of light and distant echoing bring me out of my sleep. I can’t remember where I fell asleep. Alex’s? Oliver’s? Maybe I smoked too much pot again. God, I really am turning into a pothead.

“Flower?”

“Ouch!” I squint trying to open my eyes, but the pain in my head feels like it’s paralyzing my whole body.

Alex flickers into focus. “What happened?”

“You … fell and other things.” She grimaces.

“Fell?”

“Well, sort of jumped or leaped … from Oliver’s counter. You have a concussion, and stitches in several places along with numerous cuts from the glass they had to remove from various parts of your body, especially your feet.”

The pain in my head and now everywhere else multiplies one hundredfold as the flood of memories rushes back. Oliver is married.

“The doctor said you can go home this morning. All of your injuries are minor. There’s just a lot of them, so you’re going to have trouble getting around for the next week or so. You must have been pretty pissed and running on pure rage to not realize you had so many shards of glass impaled in your feet.”

“He’s married.” My voice sounds like the words are ripping through my throat. The anger has taken a backseat to the emotional pain and … Oh. My. God. It hurts so bad. My vision clouds as the tears overflow down my face.

“Oh, Flower. I’m so sorry.” Alex holds my hand with a gentle touch and as I try to squeeze hers, I feel the pull of bandages against my skin.

What have I done to myself?

“For what it’s worth, he doesn’t look any better than you do, except he doesn’t have a concussion. He sat with you all night, against my better judgment, but I made him leave this morning before you woke. I think he and his family are in the waiting room.”

Another sob escapes and Alex blots my face with a tissue. “I don’t want to see them … any of them, ever again.”

“Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No! They … they wouldn’t understand. I haven’t told them about Oliver.”

“Okay, well, Sean will be back soon. I sent him to get you some clothes that weren’t covered in blood.”

“Good morning, Vivian.”

I sniffle and look up.

“I’m Dr. Bennett. I just talked with Dr. Konrad and he said you’re a close friend of their family so I came in early to get you checked out and hopefully back home soon so you can rest and heal.” He swipes his finger across his iPad then hands it to the nurse and starts examining me.

“We’re not friends.”

Dr. Bennett shines a bright light into my right eye. “No? Hmm, sorry I must have misunderstood.”

He blinds, pokes, and prods me then messes with his iPad again. “Well you’re going to be fine. If you need something for the pain, Tylenol or Advil should work.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Get some rest.”

Just as Dr. Bennett and the nurse exit the room, Sean comes in with a bag. “Hey, Viv. I brought you some clothes. Oliver gave me the key to his place. He’s out in the waiting room and wants to see you.”

Alex helps me sit up to the side with my feet dangling off the bed. “Can you give him a message for me?”

“Sure,” Sean replies.

“Tell him to fuck off.”

Sean looks at Alex then back at me.

“You heard her … go.” Alex motions with her head.

“Can we have a moment?” All three of us look to the door where Oliver stands. He has a black eye, fat lip, and stitches on his chin.

Good!

“Never mind, Sean, I’ll tell him myself. Fuck off, Oliver!”

“Just five minutes. Please.” He steps inside the room.

Alex rests her hand on my knee. “Just give him his five and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

I hesitate. I don’t want to see him, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk to him, but I want to go home so I nod once, staring down at my feet.

“We’ll be right outside.”

Oliver shuts the door behind them and comes closer to me. I see his brown Sanuk shoes and bare legs, but I don’t look up.

“Vivian—”

“I hate you,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“Four minutes left.”

He squats down resting his hands on either side of me so I’m forced to look at him. “I’m so very sor—”

“Three and a half minutes.” I grit through my teeth.

He sighs. “Caroline is legally still my wife. She’s suffering from … severe depression and she’s suicidal. I filed for divorce over a year ago, but given her mental state, a quick divorce is not an option. I love you. I want to be with you and I was going to tell you—”

I laugh. “You were going to tell me? When? Before you took my virginity? Before you let me fall in love with you? Before you asked me to move in with you? WHEN, OLIVER?” The emotional pain wars with the physical pain, and the anger I’m feeling is intensifying both. I’m exhausted. I feel empty, except for the tears. Damn the tears … the endless river of tears.

He rests his cheek on my bare leg and I feel the surrender of his touch against my skin. It’s a cruel reality when the touch that healed me becomes the flame that burns me.

“Time’s up,” I whisper then sniffle as I fight to breathe.

With a slow turn of his head, he brushes his stubbly face against my legs then presses his lips to my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut wringing out more tears, trying to hold my breath, but the emotions are too powerful. Instead, my body shudders as soft painful whimpers escape against my will.

“Bye, my love.”

I feel him leave, but I can’t open my eyes. I’m blinded by tears, blinded by emotions … I was blinded by love.