Livvy (28 page)

“Mom...” I whine. “I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave.” At this point, if Jon wanted me to stay in bed with him all day, I’d bypass the visit to Mom and Dad’s and do anything he asked. Although he mentioned that he had homework to do this afternoon, I won’t be the one to remind him. I have homework, too, but I’ll put it off if it means more time with him.

“Livvy, should Dad be worried at all?”

“About?”

“About your biological father. Have you reached out to him?”

“I already told Dad, Mom. No. I haven’t done anything and I don’t intend to at this point. I’d rather forget about him.”

“You can’t, sweetie. You need to face this and make a decision. Every day you put this off is potentially another day wasted with someone you may want to know. I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“You want me to meet him?” I ask.

“I want you to put aside your father’s feelings, my feelings, Jon’s feelings... I want you to think of yourself only when you come to a decision. And I really want you to consider this gift that Donna left you.”

“Quite honestly, it’s the worst gift anyone has ever given me.”

“It seems difficult to accept, Liv, but it’s not a bad gift. It may not be your favorite one, but you have no idea what could come of it. He could have something to offer that you’ve been looking for.”

“Mom, it’s not like that. Please don’t bring Nate into this–”

“I’m not,” she corrects me.

“Or any old artist,” I continue. “It was foolish of me to think I needed that connection to someone... to a father figure, anyway. I have that connection with you. I have that connection with Jon. What Dad and I have is different, but it’s wonderful on its own.”

“And that’s my point, Livvy. He could bring a whole new perspective to your world. You shouldn’t treat this lightly.”

“I know,” I tell her, not wanting to argue anymore. “It’s just too much right now. I’ve got so many other things happening in my life, what with my artwork, and school, and Jon. I don’t have time to split with someone else.”

“You make time if it’s important.”

“I just don’t know that it is,” I whisper to her. She has nothing more to add. “Does Dad know you’re talking to me about this?”

“No. But he hardly slept at all last night, and he’s been pacing around the house all day waiting for you. I wanted to give him a little peace of mind before he gives himself an ulcer.”

“He really shouldn’t worry,” I assure her. “If I ever do decide to meet Isaiah Grate, he’ll never be my Daddy. He may be a man I talk to on some level, but he can never be my father. That role is being perfectly portrayed by Jack Holland, and I’m not looking to recast it.”

She laughs lightly into the phone. “I married a good man,” she says.

“I’m so thankful you did, Mom. I love you both.”

“If you loved us,” she says as I feel the guilt trip coming on, “you’d get out of bed and come spend some time with us before you go back to New Haven.”

“I love you,” I avow, “and I will. Better?”

“Better,” she concedes. “I’ve even got some cupcakes from Kel for you to take back to Katrina and Rachelle.”

“Lemon?”

“Among others.”

“That should have been your opening line, Mom. I’d have been over there by now.”

“You’ll come for the sweets. I see how it is.”

“Yep,” I tease her. “Give me an hour, okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. We just love you and we miss you and we want to spend a little more time with you, that’s all.”

“Love you, too, Mom. I’ll see you later.” We say goodbye and hang up. I put the phone on the nightstand and enjoy my last few minutes in his warm embrace.

“Olivia,” he says softly, “please don’t use me as an excuse. Don’t think that you have to forfeit your time with me to see your biological father.”

“I’m not,” I argue, looking up at him.

“I’ll go with you,” he says. “If you need support, I’ll be there for you. No one expects this to be easy for you.”

“I just don’t know why it’s so important that I meet him.”

“Maybe it’s not,” he says as he scoots down to kiss me. “What’s important is that you give this decision a lot of thought and consideration. Time is of the essence. You never know–the opportunity may not exist tomorrow... would you be okay with that? Would you be okay if you missed the opportunity to meet the man who gave you life?”

“As far as I’m concerned, my parents gave me life. Like you said, no one else could have given me this life.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he laughs. “Just think about it. Think about any questions you might have about him. Questions about your Mom, maybe? I know you’ve always wanted to know more about her.”

“I’m not sure
he’d
know. And if he doesn’t, I mean... what does that say about their relationship?”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“What if I was a mistake?”

“If you were, your biological mother certainly didn’t think you were. Maybe your conception wasn’t planned... you wouldn’t be the first. And speaking as an Oops-baby, I’d be honored to have you join our club. We still live fulfilling lives,” he says jokingly. “Occasionally, we even find love.”

CHAPTER 12

Nearly a month after the incident with Emmanuel and the photograph, a meeting is set up with him, the dean, my parents and me. Most Thursday nights, Rachelle, Katrina and I order in pizza and study with syndicated comedies playing in the background. We normally leave our dorm room open, taking breaks to talk to other friends and classmates as they stop by.

Tonight, my roommates are studying while I’m at the meeting, and my parents have invited them to have dinner with us after it.

Mom and Dad comment on the temperature as soon as they arrive. “The cold front’s already here,” my dad says.

“I didn’t think it was supposed to come until later tonight,” Mom responds, crossing her arms in front of her to keep warm. Dad doesn’t hesitate, taking off his leather jacket and draping it over my mother’s shoulders. She slips her arms in it and wraps them around Dad as we walk to the dean’s office.

“Our daughter has dressed sensibly tonight,” Dad adds, looking over at me and winking. I hadn’t done laundry in two weeks and was running out of clean clothes, so I’d pulled on my jeans with an old sweater without even knowing about a cold snap.

“You didn’t have to drive all the way out here,” I tell them. “We could have just done this over the phone, you know...”

“Not a chance,” Dad says. “I want him to look me in the eyes and apologize.”

“And I want to see his reaction to what we have to say,” my mom says.

“Can’t we just make this short and sweet and get on with dinner? I’m starving,” I whine. “I didn’t have lunch so I’d be hungry for lobster.”

“I thought we’d just eat at the Yale dining hall,” he teases.

“Lobster,” I reiterate. “I’ve already convinced Katrina to try it–oh, and Daddy, don’t let her pay, okay?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“She’ll insist, but just don’t. She’s been putting money aside for the last two weeks.”

“Of course I’m treating you girls,” he says. “A man has to show his appreciation for four beautiful women accompanying him to dinner. I consider myself lucky.”

“Gross, Dad.”

“Fine, you can pay for your own,” he teases me.

“Where’s my allowance?” I ask coquettishly. Both of my parents glare at me out of the corners of their eyes. I smile and shrug my shoulders, opening the door for them when we finally get to the building.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland,” Dean Taylor says. He shakes my father’s hand and kisses the back of my mother’s. It seems old fashioned, but he’s probably twenty years older than Dad, so I just accept it when he does the same to my hand. “Olivia, it’s good to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“It could be worse,” I respond.

“Emmanuel is already here. Please follow me into the conference room.” My mom and I take seats across from Emmanuel and another woman. My dad seems to recognize her.

“Mrs. Cortez,” Dad says, stretching across the table to offer his hand to her. My father doesn’t even look at my former friend, choosing to divert his attention to the head of the table where the dean sits when Emmanuel starts to say hello. I guess he isn’t going to make this easy.

“Mr. Holland,” the woman begins, “Mrs. Holland, I am so sorry for Manny’s actions. I don’t know what got into my boy’s head, but he shouldn’t have distributed that picture of your daughter.”

“No, he shouldn’t have,” Dad agrees.

“But I’m sure you’ll agree that your daughter shouldn’t have made such a crass gesture in the first place. In my opinion, she was asking for trouble.”

“I’m sorry?” my mother asks, looking confused.

“That is no way for a proper young lady to act.”

“Mrs. Cortez,” my dad says before my mother can speak. I’m positive what he has to say will be much more tempered and dignified than my mother’s reaction. “Let me assure you that we are proud of Livvy for standing up for herself amidst the brutish behavior of your son. Trust me when I tell you that Emmanuel’s gesture was much more inappropriate.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Manny, would you like to tell your mother about the photo Livvy snapped of you, or would you like me to?”

“It’s Emmanuel,” he corrects my father.

“The day you start acting like a man, I’ll call you that. What’ll it be, Manny?”

“Mr. Holland–” the dean tries to interject.

“Where’s the picture?” He asks the question while feeling the hair in his mohawk, looking agitated.

“Out of Livvy’s possession,” Dad answers. “I downloaded a copy to my hard drive for safe keeping, and I watched her delete it from the camera. No father wants his daughter carrying around a photo of an angry boy fondling himself.”

“I wasn’t fondling–”

“Save it, Manny. I can send you a copy, if you need a refresher.”

“What are you keeping it for?” his mother asks.

“I did a search on your son last weekend. He seems to be making a name for himself in some pretty significant circles. Lots of celebrities want to work with him. A few of them travel in my own circles,” Dad says evenly. “If you ever bother my daughter again, Manny, in any way that displeases me, I will let everyone know about your unprofessionalism. If I wanted this to be a full-page ad in the
Times
, I could make that happen, along with a story of how you took money from the tabloid media in an effort to smear my own daughter’s name when she was just trying to defend herself from a lowlife parasite like you.”

“Don’t talk to my son that way!” Mrs. Cortez yells.

“Jacks...” Mom puts her hand on my dad’s arm.

“My apologies, Mrs. Cortez,” Dad says after clearing his throat. “I just don’t like to see people taking advantage of my daughter. I’m sure you understand my need to defend my child. But we have been nothing but kind and generous to Manny. What he did is dishonorable and we deserve an apology.”

Silence settles over the room as all eyes go to Emmanuel. He looks across the table at me and mumbles an apology. I stare back at him, unwilling to acknowledge it.

“How much did you profit from that photo?” Dad asks.

“I got nothing,” he answers.

“Emi?” Dad watches as my mother pulls out a letter-sized envelope from her bag. She hands it to my father. He produces three pieces of paper and sets them down on the table in front of Mrs. Cortez.

“What’s that?” her son asks.

“These are sworn affidavits from two websites and one tabloid magazine, stating that you were paid over six thousand dollars for this photo. Would you be willing to sign one stating that you were not paid for the picture?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you still have the money?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I would like that money in the form of a cashier’s check delivered to my office by Tuesday of next week. My brother, Matty, works with an anti-bullying organization, and they need funds for some new supplies.”

“I believe you met my brother-in-law?” Mom asks pointedly. Emmanuel glares at her, unwilling to answer.

“We hope you won’t mind the money going to a good cause.”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Cortez answers, surprised. “Manny, you send that check first thing in the morning.”

“Mom–”

“Emmanuel? You’ll do it and you’ll apologize to these people.”

“Fine.” We all wait for a sincere apology.

“Now, Manny!”

“Livvy, I’m sorry for selling the picture. Mr. and Mrs. Holland, I apologize. It was wrong of me. I was angry and did it out of spite. I never meant to seem ungrateful to you.”

“Thank you,” my parents say together. “Livvy?” Mom adds. I look at her briefly before understanding that she, too, expects an apology.

“I’m sorry I took that picture of you... and I’m sorry I made you so mad.” He seems to smile a little as he nods in acceptance.