Idle Bloom

Chapter Twenty-Three Ripped Open

Oliver

I offered to stay, but she told me to go. Leaving felt cowardly, like I was abandoning her in the middle of a huge mess. Kai has impeccable timing. Of course I know it’s not fair to blame him for the timing of his sister’s death, but nonetheless it dragged Vivian away on my birthday. His announcing my wife to her family on her birthday … unforgivable. He must like having my fist stamped on his face. Dear God I hope Vivian is too smart to give him another chance.

“What’d you think of her parents?” my dad asks as we row along the river just after sunrise.

I grunt as my oars grab the water. “I like them. They’re a little overprotective, but I suppose that’s to be expected since she’s an only child.”

“Yeah, that and I’m sure they feel responsible for her burn accident. Every parent feels responsible for what happens to their children even if they have no control over it.”

I nod but don’t respond.

“Shit! Oliver, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine. I … I know what you mean.” I stop for a moment and sigh. “It’s probably about time for me to stop expecting everyone to act like my life in Portland didn’t exist. Vivian knows part of it and when she gets home later I’m going to tell her the rest.”

“Oliver that’s … Have you talked to your mom about this?”

I shake my head. “I trust Vivian. I don’t need Mom to tell me if or how to tell her. This is something I have to do by myself.”

“What about Caroline?”

I shrug, trying to dismiss the tensing hatred that takes over my body every time her name is mentioned. “What about her?”

“You’re still married to her. Responsible for her.”

We pull the boat out of the water. “No, I’m not. She’s Doug and Lily’s problem, not mine.”

“Oliver—”

“The papers have been filed, and it’s just a matter of time before it’s official.”

“You loved her once.”

“Dad! I’m not doing this with you!” I slam my oars in the boat.

He rests his hand on my shoulder. “I just want you to be prepared for the unexpected. You’re a lawyer. I shouldn’t have to tell you that circumstances can change.”

Resting my hand on my hip, I look at my feet and nod with a sigh. “I know.”

From my dad’s lips to my life, what are the chances? There’s a message on my phone after I get out of the shower. Doug Welch, my soon-to-be ex-father-in-law wants to talk to me. He has a favor, but he wants to talk in person, as if I have time to fly across the country on a whim. Not happening. I delete the message.

Vivian will be back in a few hours. That gives me a small window in which to get my shit together. I promised her answers and that’s what she’s going to be expecting. The door upstairs has to be opened and I need to face my fears … face my reality. The problem is I can’t get the sound of Doug’s voice and his message out of my head. What’s his favor? Why does he think we have to talk in person?

It may only be nine in the morning, but I think this day calls for an exception so I grab a beer. Three beers later I pour a glass of Jack and head upstairs. Inverting the cobalt vase, I wait for the key to fall out. Nothing. Where the hell is the key? I try to turn the knob, but it’s locked so I bang on the door … The door that I’ve not wanted to open, until now. I step back and kick it, but it doesn’t budge. It’s possible the alcohol is robbing my strength or my common sense.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call Chance.

“It’s nine-thirty on Sunday, dipshit, what do you want?”

“I need an ax.”

“Okay, Paul. Shall I bring my blue ox too? What the hell do you need an ax for?”

I lean back against the wall and slide down while laughing. “Funny, you’re real funny today.”

“Jesus! You’re drunk and it’s not even ten o’clock.”

“Yeah, well what’s that saying? It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“She dump you again?”

I empty the last few drops of Jack into my mouth. “Who?”

“Viv.”

“No. Why?”

He chuckles. “Uh … no reason. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

After two trips back downstairs to refill my rocks glass, I come up with a brilliant idea. I bring the bottle upstairs with me. Genius … pure genius. My Harvard education is totally paying off.

“Yo, Bro … where are you?”

“In my house.”

Chance chuckles, coming up the stairs. “No shit.”

“Where is it?”

“What?”

I sigh. “The ox, stupid … I—jeez, I mean the ax.” I purse my lips together and squint at the door. “Although I bet an ox could take that door down too.”

“What’s behind the door? Dude! You have a fucking dead bolt on the door. What on Earth?”

I let my head thump back against the wall and close my eyes. “I know. I’m pretty messed up. Don’t tell Mom.” I laugh.

“Where’s the key?”

“It’s in my pocket. I just thought it’d be more fun to bust it down with an ax.” I think my speech slurs, or maybe it’s just my hearing making everything sound slow and muffled. My eyes are so … very … heavy.

“Oliver?”

I’m tired … too tired.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s behind the door?”

The world’s fading … “Melanie.”

Vivian

A wispy, free feeling floats inside me on the train back to Boston. I had a transcendent moment with my parents yesterday. All my fears of how they would react to my lies and deception vanished. The words came to me without hesitation. I saw so much love and understanding in their eyes mixed with their own anguish and guilt. As much as I tried to convince myself that I was protecting them by lying about college, the truth is … I was protecting myself. I didn’t want to face their disappointment in themselves for not making enough money, or watch them continue to feel pity for me. The tears were plentiful, the moment was raw, but in the end everything was out, and I feel closer to my parents than I have ever felt before.

Now I’m dying to see Oliver. I miss him. All I can think about is leather work boots and his hot, naked body pressed against mine. His smile … I love his smile, especially when it gets so big both dimples appear. I’m sure if I could see past my complete infatuation with him, I’d see his flaws. Maybe he has some birthmark I haven’t discovered, or the veins in his hands are too prominent. It’s possible he walks pigeon-toed, but I haven’t noticed. Oliver can’t be perfect, I know that, but he’s perfect for me.

Chance’s truck is parked behind Oliver’s car on the street. Alex’s car is there too, so I decide to take my bags home since attacking my man in front of his brother might not be good etiquette.

“Hey, Flower! How was your weekend?”

I drop my bags on the floor by the stairs. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” She glances over her shoulder at me.

“I mean, you’re cooking and…” I glance at the cooling racks filled with cookies. “…baking.”

“Yeah, so?”

I take one of the bite-sized sugar cookies and pop it in my mouth. “Are your parents coming or something?” I mumble over a mouthful.

“No. I’m just getting back into practice. I haven’t done much in the kitchen for a while.”

I raise a single brow at her. “You’re acting too weird, even for you. What’s going on?”

She turns and licks some cream sauce off her fingers, lingering when she gets to her left ring finger.

“Oh my God!” I grab her hand gawking at the huge princess-cut diamond.

“I’m getting married!”

I can’t peel my eyes off the mammoth rock. “Yeah you are. Holy crap, where did Sean get the money for this?”

“It was actually from a necklace that his grandfather gave his grandmother. Sean had it put into this platinum band. You like?”

I pull her in for a hug. “It’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”

“Good, I hope you still feel that way when I tell you that you have six months to plan the best bachelorette party ever, Maid of Honor.”

“What, me?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back around to the stove. “Duh, of course you.”

“Why so soon? Are you pregnant? I knew that outfit-thingy he was wearing the other day would get you into trouble.”

“Yeah, Flower. I got pregnant on Friday. Saturday he drove to Jersey to get the diamond, had it mounted and sized on Sunday, and proposed right after I peed on the stick this morning.” She laughs. “No, I’m not pregnant. His older brother will be back from Africa for a week over Christmas. Remember I told you Dillon’s in the Peace Corps?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Anyway, Sean decided he wanted to seize the rare opportunity of having his whole family here so he proposed.”

“So you’re not pregnant?”

She laughs again. “No, Flower, I’m not pregnant. But you’d better make nice with neighbor boy because once I move in with Sean…” she turns and gives me a sly grin “…well, officially, then my parents are selling this place.”

“Speaking of neighbor boy. What the hell kind of birthday present was that supposed to be?”

“Ahh, it’s the deluxe version of the model I bought for you right after you moved in. I have one too. Isn’t it a-mazing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. Once it fell out of the sack and onto the floor in front of my parents and Oliver, I sort of lost the mood to try it out.”

“No way!”

“Way … as in way embarrassing. I’ve been having the best sex of my life so why did you think I would need that?”

Alex chuckles. “Flower, first, you’ve been having the only sex of your life, so technically it’s the best and the worst. Second, it can be used as an adjunct to all the kink you and neighbor boy have already been doing.”

I bite at the peeling skin on my lower lip. “That’s what Oli alluded to as well. So, how does that work. I use it in front of him? He uses it on me? I use it on him?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. You guys into anal?”

“What?” I gasp.

She shrugs while draining the pasta. “It was just a question.”

“Anal me or anal him … or … ugh, never mind! No to both anyway. How could you even ask me that?”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Maybe you should watch a little guy-on-guy porn. It’s hot as in capital H.O.T. It might change your mind.”

“You are definitely Maggie’s niece. Are your parents into this stuff too?”

“Ooo, yuck, gross! Why did you say that? Now when I see them it’s all I’m going to think about.”

Yeah, like my images of her tied to her bed and Sean in chaps and a cowboy hat.

“Think about what? Your mom wearing a strap-on penis? ‘Spread ’em, Mark. You’ve been a naughty boy.’ ‘Harder, Annabelle!’”

“STOP!” Alex squeezes her eyes shut and sticks her fingers in her ears while stomping her feet.

I laugh. “That’s for not locking your door before the rodeo.” I steal another cookie. “I’m going to unpack then go see Oliver.”

“I’m going to vomit then have a voluntary lobotomy!” She slings a sticky piece of spaghetti at me as I head toward the stairs.

I skip down the front steps. Glass scars? What glass scars? A pang of disappointment hits me when I see Chance’s truck still there. Maybe he’ll take the hint and leave when he sees me salivating through labored breaths at his brother.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

I hear voices as I near the stairs. They become clearer as I tiptoe my way upstairs.

“I think you should stop drinking.”

“Why?”

“Well, once you pass out the party is over.”

“I didn’t pass out … I took a nap.”

“You passed out.”

“How would you know? You’re wasted too.” Oliver chuckles.

“I’m not drunk.”

“You broke your ax on my door.”

“Okay, I’m a little wasted.”

“Viv-i-an’s going to be here … soon. You should go.”

“You should let her go. You’re fucked-up and you’re just going to break her heart.”

“You’re right—”

“He’s right?” I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, startling both of them. “Is that what I heard you say?” My jaw clenches while I squint at him. “I thought we had this conversation! Stop jerking me around. Either you want to be with me or you don’t. But I’m fed up with you acting like some martyr willing to give me up even if it kills you just because you think it’s best for me. Either you’re in or out! So what’s it going to be?”

He struggles to stand up, but falls right back down on his butt. Chance laughs.

“What’s so goddamn funny? What’s wrong with the two of you? Why are you both sitting in the hall, drunk off your asses, in the middle of the day?” I look to my left at the door. There’s an ax stuck in it with the handle broken off. I pull the key out of my pocket and dangle it in front of them. “Seems a little less destructive than an ax, don’t you think?”

Oliver goes to grab it, but I pull it away. “Why do you have my key?”

“I slipped it in my pocket the other day and forgot it was there. I have it now because I was planning on returning it. Now answer me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as if that’s going to help him sober up. “What was the question again?”

“Ugh! Are you keeping me or cutting me loose? Why are you both drunk? And what the hell is the meaning behind the pillow with a photo of your dead daughter sitting on top of it in the middle of an otherwise empty room?” I point to the door.

Chance looks at Oliver. “Bro, you kept the pil—”

“Get out!” Oliver grits through his teeth.

“That’s so fuc—”

“GET. OUT!”

Chance crawls to his feet and stumbles to the stairs.

“Don’t you dare drive home,” I say to Chance, still glaring at Oliver.

“I’ll call for a ride,” he replies on his way down the stairs.

Oliver bows his head and rubs his temples. “My head is killing me. So pick one.”

“What?”

“Pick the question that matters most right now.”

I kneel down between his bent legs. He looks up at me with heart-wrenching emotion in his glossy blue eyes.

“Are you letting me go?” I whisper with such fear of his answer smacking me in the face.

“Never.”

I nod. “Okay then.” Releasing a sigh of desperate relief, we embrace like we’re holding on for life.

My back screams in protest while my body temperature approaches boiling point. We’re still in the hallway. Oliver has half his body draped over mine and his head is on my chest. I’m not sure how long we’ve been asleep, hopefully long enough for the alcohol to clear his system.

“Oli?” I whisper, running my fingers through his hair.

He mumbles something.

“Oli, wake up.”

He lifts his head just enough to see my eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Choosing me.”

I smile. “I think it was the other way around.”

“No, when you chose us over my past … you chose me.”

“I’ll always choose you. No take backs, remember.”

“No take backs.” He grins and rolls me on top of him. “You didn’t let me finish earlier.” I close my eyes when his lips brush across mine. “I should let you go, but you’ve become my sunrise. I need you when the darkness threatens to take over.”

“When is that?”

“Always.”

Oh, Oli …

Our faces are as close as they can be without actually touching.

“You’re staring at my freckles.” I rub my nose against his.

“Because they’re so damn cute.”

“Shut up. Dimples are cute. Freckles are spotty, patchy, and messy.”

“Messy?” He laughs.

“Yeah, like I’m messy right now and sweaty. I need a shower.”

“Bath?”

I grin and nod.

We fill the tub … too much, thanks to us both being incapable of keeping our hands off the other when we’re naked.

“We’re going to have a mess to clean up by the time we get out,” I say as I ease in the water between his legs. I love his deep claw-foot tub.

“We’ll add it to the messy list with your freckles.”

“Ha, ha!” I lean back against his chest and skim my fingers over his legs.

“So how did the weekend go?”

“Great, actually. I feel free. The painful weight of lying to my parents for the past two years has been lifted. They felt bad that I thought I needed to protect them from the truth, but they weren’t mad.”

“And your adulterous boyfriend?”

I laugh. “They think we’re both insane, but they get it.”

“Get it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“How much did you tell them?”

“I told them your wife is mentally ill because your baby died. It’s tragic and something I’m sure you don’t want the whole world to know, but they’re my parents and I had to explain the situation.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Are you mad?”

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “No … I’m not mad.”

After twenty minutes of silence and the dropping water temperature evoking goose bumps, we get out. I wrap my towel around myself and comb through my hair while Oliver goes into the bedroom.

“You’re awfully quiet,” I say while grabbing one of his T-shirts from the drawer and slipping it on.

He sits on the edge of the bed in just his briefs with his head bowed. “I’d been working late … a lot. Being the youngest lawyer at the firm meant long hours. We both knew that when I took the position. That’s the reason I looked for a job in Portland, so her parents would be close by to help when the baby came.”

He’s telling me everything and I can’t move. I want to sit next to him, hold his hand … something, but I’m frozen in front of the dresser, just feet away from him, completely paralyzed.

“She went into labor at five in the morning two weeks before her due date. They ended up doing a C-section. Melanie was tiny but so…” his voice cracks “…strong.” He shakes his head. “God, she was so strong. Caroline had a tough recovery, but her mom stayed with us to help out. The partners at the firm insisted I take a week off and work from home. I thought we were good, tired and exhausted, but good.”

Silence settles over the room. I don’t know if he’s looking for the right words or the right amount of courage. Forcing my body to find its own courage, I move closer and kneel on the floor by the bed, resting my head on his leg. His hand moves to my hair and he runs his fingers through it in slow methodic strokes.

“I went back to work, but her parents came to help every day over the next couple months. They encouraged her to take a shower, a walk, even run an errand or two just to have a break. One day she would scrub the kitchen floor then the next she didn’t want to get out of bed. Her doctor said it was postpartum depression, fairly common. Her mom thought she was starting to hallucinate, but I never saw that side of her. Then again, I wasn’t home much. Melanie was usually asleep by the time I got home, so my only interaction was when she woke in the night, but even then Caroline was usually up. She hardly slept.”

He laughs, it’s a painful, maybe even an angry laugh. “It wasn’t postpartum depression, it was postpartum psychosis. Did you know that point one percent of women get it? And even then, less than five percent of that point one percent are suicidal or …” He swallows and takes a deep breath.

I can’t move … I can’t breathe. I know where this is going. It’s the sickest feeling I’ve ever had in my life. It’s worse than waking up in the hospital with third-degree burns. It’s worse than hearing about Sean’s abusive past. It’s even worse than the news of Kai’s sister dying. One blink and my tears release. They flow freely down my face and onto Oliver’s leg.

“Less than five percent of … Point. One. Fucking. Percent. Her parents had driven down to visit her brother in Salem, just for the evening. I made sure to be home by dinner. I brought food and flowers. It was going to be our special night together, just the three of us.”

His tears fall to my cheek. I look up at him and the pain on his face is like someone’s ripping him apart and he can’t stop them.

I shake my head. “Don’t.” I need him to stop.

“It was quiet … too quiet. So I went to our bedroom.”

“Oli, stop.” I release a sob and grab his tear streaked face. “Please.”

He just stares at me like he’s looking through me, not even seeing me. “They weren’t there. I thought … I thought maybe she was in the bathtub. The floor … so much blood … she was lifeless.”

“Oli … don’t do this.” I cry.

“I called 9-1-1 and went back down the hall to unlock the front door. That’s when I saw them.” More tears fall from his glazed-over eyes. “Her feet … they were bl-blue.” A break in his voice and a single sob … it’s a dagger to my heart.

My forehead falls to his chest and I cry so hard. He places his hands over mine still on his cheeks.

“She was in h-her crib with a p-pillow over her head.” He releases another strangled sob.

I crawl up onto his lap and press my wet lips to his. “No more, Oli! No more.” I mumble between sobs against his lips.

He nods, resting his forehead on mine and holding me tight in his arms.