Idle Bloom

Chapter Twenty-Six Miles Apart

Vivian

Three days ago I told Oliver to go to Portland. He talked it over with his family and they agree it’s what he needs to do. Two days ago he made the decision to go. Yesterday I broke down in Alex’s arms and told her I regretted telling him to go. Today he’s leaving.

“I want you to move in.”

I laugh as I towel dry my hair. “You’re leaving today. I don’t think it matters now.”

Oli zips his suitcase and holds out his hand. He leads me down the hallway, stopping in front of the door.

“Chance will come by next week and put on the new door.”

My brow furrows. “What are you talk—”

Oliver opens the door.

Yellow.

The walls are yellow with charcoal and white-striped curtains. There’s a desk against one wall, bookshelves on the opposite wall, and my bed in the middle with a new floral quilt and … pillows, lots of decor pillows.

“Oli…” I step in the room and turn in a slow circle “…when did you … I can’t believe …”

He pulls me into his arms and smiles down at me. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in Portland, but I do know that being so far away from you is going to feel like my heart is living outside of my body. The one thing that will get me through it is knowing that you’re here in our house waiting for me to come home.”

He brushes his lips over my falling tears. “Will you be here?”

Don’t go!

“Yes, I’ll be here.” I hug him, clinging to this man I love with all my being, and dying a little inside.

“I expect great things from this room.” He showers my nose and cheeks with kisses like he’s trying to kiss all of my freckles. “Lots of hours studying, straight A assignments, a few naughty videos that you’ll send me …”

“Mr. Konrad, I would never!”

He squeezes my ass. “I think you would and I hope … really hope you will.”

“We should go.”

Oliver glances at his watch. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

Oliver drives us to Logan International. I’ve had a slow building of emotions threatening to ruin our goodbye.

Hold it together. Hold it together.

He gets his suitcases out of the trunk and hands me his keys with a smirk.

“I know, don’t wreck it.” I hold out my hand.

“I was going to say don’t kill yourself or anyone else.”

“Ha ha.”

He sets the keys in my hand then closes his hand around mine. Our eyes meet. “I’m going to try and get back to you as soon as I can.”

I nod because I can’t speak. He holds my face in his hands and kisses me. Our tongues brush together as our lips move in sync. One last embrace follows our long kiss goodbye.

Hold it together. Hold it together.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

I nod, holding my breath, strangled by my emotions.

We share one last sad smile before he turns and walks toward the doors. I get in the driver’s seat and start the car. My stomach churns with nausea and my heart feels heavy and tight like it’s suffocating. I place my hands on the top of the steering wheel, rest my forehead on them, and I cry. My door opens and I suck in a startled breath, looking up.

Oliver. He shakes his head and bends down pulling me into his arms. I sob. It’s ugly and painful, but I can’t hold it in any longer.

“Let it go, my love, let it go,” he whispers in my ear, stroking my hair.

“It h-hurts s-so bad.”

“Shh … I know it does. I feel it too.”

He doesn’t rush me like he has a plane to catch, and he even ignores the occasional horn that honks behind us. Oliver’s love is patient and it makes his departure even harder to handle.

He wipes my tears as I sniffle. “Don’t hide your feelings from me, not ever. Okay?”

“O-k-kay.” I grab a tissue out of my purse and wipe my nose. “Why’d you c-come back.”

He smiles. “Because I had this feeling you needed one last hug.”

My lips curl into a tight, painful smile. His words manage to wring a few more tears out of my puffy, red eyes.

“Vivian, I love you more than you could ever imagine in a million lifetimes. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

“K … I love you too, Oli.”

“More than Boston Kreme?”

“Yes.” I laugh and kiss him.

“More than my mom’s cobbler?”

“Yes.” Another kiss.

“More than Rosenberg?”

“You’re pushing it, buddy.”

“There’s my girl. Sweet and sassy, just like I like her.” He kisses my forehead then stands. “Say bye to the fur ball for me.”

I roll my eyes as he shuts the door. He places his hand flat on the window and I do the same. One last, sad smile. I see the unshed tears glisten in his eyes right as he turns and walks away.

“Bye, Oli.” I choke out as I look in the rearview mirror and watch him disappear through the glass doors.

Oliver never indicated how long he might be in Portland and I never asked. I knew it would just be a guess on his part, and I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment if it took longer. Measuring the time in weeks is probably unrealistic, months is what I imagine, and anything beyond that is too painful to think about right now.

I know Alex is probably waiting for me. We’re supposed to meet with a band that may play at their reception. But I need a few minutes alone to … I don’t know—miss Oliver some more.

“Rosenberg,” I call, opening the door. Slipping off my shoes, I look up. “What’s … going on?” My parents are here and so is Alex, Sean, and Maggie. “Is this an intervention?”

“More like a prevention.” My mom hugs me.

“Yeah, Oliver called yesterday and asked if we could all plan on being here for you after he left today.” Alex grabs my hand and gives me the familiar sad smile that’s been going around today. “I guess he didn’t want you hiding in the closet, curled up on the floor wearing his T-shirt with your nose nestled into an old sweatshirt that smells like him.”

Everyone laughs at Alex’s comment.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” I laugh.

They should definitely worry about that. It’s number three on my Oliver-left-me-a basket-case list—right after washing my hair with his shampoo and dry humping the sheets on his side of the bed.

“Good to know, but we’re still taking you out on the town for the day,” Maggie says.

“Out on the town?”

“Yes. Oliver won’t be in Portland for almost eight hours so while you’re waiting for his call we’re heading out to see the best of Boston like a bunch of tourists.”

“The Tea Party museum and Freedom Trail,” my dad says.

“Mike’s cannoli and duck boats,” Sean chimes in too.

“Maybe we’ll head to Newbury Street for some school shopping, compliments of my parents.” Alex gives me a wicked grin and holds up a black American Express card.

“I don’t know … I start school tomorrow and I don’t really feel like—”

“We’re under strict orders from Oliver … Staying here is not an option, even if we have to drag you along.” Sean winks, giving me a wicked grin. We fight like siblings most of the time. I’m sure he’d love nothing more than to drag me around Boston by my hair.

“Fine.”

Exhausted. That’s the only word for my mental and physical state. As promised, we did the whole tourist thing and took in as much of Boston as we could in one day. Had I not been thinking about Oliver the whole time it would have been a great day. Although I’ve lived here for over two years, I’ve never taken in all of Boston and its rich history. We finished off our day at Oliver’s parents’ house for dinner. Being with them made me feel closer to him. It was bitter sweet too. I’d imagined we’d be together when our parents met for the first time. They seemed to get along well and our moms even exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers to keep in touch, more like keep tabs on their kids.

The house is lonely and quiet without Oli. I’m grateful Rosenberg is here to keep me company. I’m not on the closet floor, but I am wearing Oli’s T-shirt, snuggling with Rosenberg on Oli’s side of the bed waiting for him to call. Tomorrow will be my first day of college. I hope it’s the distraction I need from Oliver and not the other way around.

My phone vibrates and I answer it with a pathetic teenage girl eagerness.

“Oli?”

“Hey, sexy.”

My whole body melts into the sheets as I sigh from the sound of his voice.

“Just got off the plane and I’m waiting for my luggage. How was your day? Anything exciting happen?”

“Nope. After I dropped you off, I came home and curled up in a ball on the closet floor, wrapped in your clothes, and sobbed until I fell asleep. In fact, I just woke up.”

“What? You mean nobody—”

“Yes, babe. I’m officially an expert on all things Boston. I have ten bags of clothes from the most expensive stores on Newbury Street, guaranteeing that I’ll be the best-dressed freshman on campus tomorrow; that is if I can fit into them after the meal your mom made for everyone tonight.”

“I just didn’t want you—”

“Oli?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. It was the most considerate thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. If it’s even possible, I think I love you more now than I did this morning.”

“I miss you. It’s taking everything I have to not march over to the ticket counter and buy a ticket back home to you and just say to hell with the rest of this.”

“You’re going to make me cry again so just stop.”

“Sorry.”

“So, I never asked. Where are you staying while you’re there?”

He sighs. “Since I have no idea how long I’ll be here, I’m staying with Caroline’s parents for now.”

“Oh … is that … I mean, a good idea? Can you handle being around them all the time?”

“They both work, so it will only be in the evenings and weekends.”

A twinge of something hits me. Jealously would be ridiculous; it’s not exactly that. It feels a little like insecurity. Maybe it’s just uncertainty. I’m uncertain of how I feel about Oliver immersing himself in his past. And at this moment, just for tonight, I don’t want to talk about it.

“Rosenberg’s claimed your side of the bed already.”

“Is that so? Well, that fur ball hadn’t better get too comfortable. I’m not sharing you with anyone when I get home.”

“That is … if you can tear me away from my love affair with higher education.”

Oliver chuckles. “You’re such a geek. A sexy geek, but geek nonetheless.”

“You’re just jealous that I’ve always loved school, unlike some kids who get so nervous they wet their pants on the school bus.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Low blow. I see my mom has been running her mouth. For the record, I was six, over-hydrated, and the bus driver hit a huge pothole.”

I let out my giggles. “What about your first day of Karate? Your mom said the kid next to you slipped on the puddle you made and knocked out his front tooth when his face met the stack of boards behind you.”

“That’s it! You’re banned from seeing my mom ever again.”

“Too late. She’s already put me on the Saturday night dinner VIP list.”

“That’s … just … great.” His voice is muffled and I can envision him rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “My luggage is here, and it’s later there so you’d better get some rest before your big day.”

“You’re right, babe. We can finish discussing your urinary incontinence issues later.”

“No. That subject is closed. Locked. Never to be discussed again.”

I laugh some more. “I like hearing about young Oliver. It takes the sting out of missing you so desperately.”

“If you miss me, call me. We can even video chat, but for God’s sake … don’t talk to my mom about me.”

“Oli?”

“Yes?”

“I love you and thank you for today.”

“You’re welcome. I love you too. Play nice tomorrow.”

I grin. “I will.”

I can’t sleep. Rosenberg’s snoring, I miss Oli, and I’m worried my alarm won’t work which would make me late for my first day of classes. After a long shower, drying my unruly hair, and putting on my new, holy-crap-these-are-expensive True Religion jeans and a sleeveless Guess T-shirt, I dab on a little makeup and whip up some brain food. Oli would be proud. I have two eggs on whole grain toast and fresh squeezed orange juice.

I love my new bag filled with all my favorite things: razor-sharp pencils, spiral notebooks, crisp folders, and a new iPad mini from Jackie and Hugh. A kiss to Rosenberg, a deep breath, and I open the door to my new adventure.

“Say cheese, Flower!” Alex, still in her bathrobe, is at the bottom of the front steps taking picture after picture.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting pictures of my girl on her first day of college.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Puh-lease. Only freshman nerd girls schedule eight o’clock classes.”

I stick out my tongue. “Whatever.”

“Do you have apples for your professors?”

I keep walking and flip her the bird.

“Love you too, Flower. Oh! And don’t touch John Harvard’s shoe, or any other part for that matter.”

“Yeah, yeah … I know what happens at night.”

Tourists love to have their picture taken next to the John Harvard statue. His left shoe is worn and shiny from so many people touching and rubbing it for good luck. Students walking by cringe and laugh because they know what happens at night: Students, often times drunk, piss all over it. Kai and Sean have done it … more than once, and my guess is Alex has too.

As I walk to campus via the shady tree-framed streets and cobblestone paths, I feel the shift happening in the direction it needs to go. School takes my mind off Oli, well … more like easing the pain of missing him. I’m certain for as long as I live Oli will always be on my mind.

I receive four texts from Oli today:

How’s it going, smarty pants?

What are you wearing? Hope it’s sexy. Feel free to lie to me if it’s not.

Maybe avoid the John Harvard statue.

I think we should have sex in the stacks when I get home.

Okay, so apparently another tradition or rite of passage besides defacing John Harvard is having sex in the stacks at Harvard’s Widener Library. Yeah, I don’t see Miss Perfect Attendance/Student Body President joining that elite group of students. But now I’m wondering if Oli is part of that group.

Me: Almost home, missed Rosenberg … and you, of course. No to sex in the stacks. Might piss on John Harvard. I mean … does any human really deserve to be idolized to the point of having a statue made of them?

Oliver: Won’t even address you missing the mutt more than me. I will change your mind about sex in the stacks. And if you’re going to piss on John, take the mutt with you. He’ll show you how it’s done. BTW, as your attorney, I really should not condone such behavior.

Me: My ATTORNEY? Being in Portland has already helped you. Shall I shine your shoes and press your shirts for your return? No need to take Rosenberg. I have a Go Girl. It’s a firm NO for the stacks, no mind changing.

Oliver: No comment. Go Girl? And there will be something firm for you in the stacks when I get home, but it won’t be a NO.

Me: Home.

Oliver: …

I’m not sure what his ellipsis means. I unlock the door and start to say Rosenberg’s name when my breath catches in my lungs and my words are stolen. The whole lower level is filled with bouquets of white and “crimson” roses. And before I can even move, I hear the click of a camera.

“Alex!” She grins and takes more pictures of me.

“Did you—”

“No, no … I’m just capturing the moment. It’s all Oliver.”

Setting my bag down, I pull one of the roses from a vase and smell it.

Click. Click. Click.

“How did you get in here?”

“I have a key and I keep it under our entry planter with ours. Oliver suggested it. I understand why I needed the key, but his suggestion to keep it under our planter is weird.”

I grin. Alex hasn’t heard that story yet.

My phone vibrates. It’s Oliver and he’s sent me a picture with a message.

Oliver: My new screen shot for my phone.

The picture is of me smelling the rose. The one Alex just took.

“You’re sending pictures to Oliver?”

She snaps a few more of me. “Yep. That’s what I’ve been hired to do.”

Me: Why are you having Alex paparazzi my every move?

Oliver: Missing your touch is almost unbearable. Missing everything else too, would kill me. Love you.

Me: Tears … love you more!

Oliver: Nice try, but not possible. Call me later when you’re alone.

Me: O … kay?!

“How were your classes? Any cute guys?” Alex flops back on the couch and twirls her hair around her finger.

“Last I heard, you’re engaged and I’m …” I gesture to the embarrassingly romantic display of roses surrounding us.

“I didn’t ask if you scored us dates for the weekend, I asked if there were any cute guys in your class. You know … on the likely chance that the lecture gets boring, you can strip the hot guy sitting in front of you with your eyes and dirty mind.”

I toss the rose I grabbed earlier at her. “For starters, there is no one sitting in front of me. I have to sit in the front row for my recorder to pick up everything clearly. And you’ve seen Oli, he’s…” I sigh “…perfect.”

“I love that your definition of perfect is a guy much older than you with a tainted past and a wife in the looney bin.”

“I feel bad for her.” I sit on the floor next to Alex with my legs crisscrossed. “Does that make me crazy?”

“You feel bad because of what she did or where she’s at?”

“Both. She didn’t choose to lose her sanity. Can you imagine what it would be like to not have control over your thoughts or to not be able to distinguish reality from illusions? She’s sick, really sick and …”

“Oliver left her?”

I nod. “The problem is even if I can’t imagine it, I understand why she did what she did. I also understand why Oliver despises her so much, but it makes me wonder where couples draw that line. I mean … when you and Sean get married will you vow to love each other through sickness and health?”

“No, absolutely not. Our vows are going to be more like the reading of a hypothetical prenup. ‘I promise to love you in times of acute, non-antibiotic resistant illness and health as long as you don’t try to pass it off as a beer gut and man boobs.’ His will be similar except instead of beer gut and man boobs it will read saggy tits and bingo wings.”

“AKA, you too are in love with a damaged man who loves you something fierce?”

“Basically.”