Olivia (37 page)

“She was the hospice nurse who took care of your mother during the last few weeks of her life.” George’s voice remained calm, his words coming out carefully, speaking to her as though she were a fragile child. “Camille did die of cancer, Liv, but everything else ‘Toni’ told you was a lie. Camille never married and you are her only child. She spent her life in and out of prison.”

Olivia covered her ears.

“She stole a hell of a lot of money from a hell of a lot of people and was full of stories about off-shore accounts where she had it hidden.”

“I don’t care!” Olivia cried out, covering her ears tighter as she curled up tight and began to rock back and forth in agitation. “I don’t care about her or anything else in that file, so you can shut up right now!”

“Richard wasn’t able to find out how Eugene and Camille met or anything about their relationship, but he did confirm that she had been a teller at Juliette Federal Credit Union for six months before she was arrested for embezzling from a chiropractic clinic in Lincoln,” George continued.

“I already know that!” She was beyond pissed and had a hot ball of fire spreading through her chest threatening to erupt. “You better stop talking right now, before you cross the line, George.”

“Clete began investigating ‘Toni’ as soon as you two got home from your visit with her. From the minute she walked into the Barnes and Noble, Clete knew she was lying about being your sister,” George said, ignoring her warning.

“Why?” Olivia demanded. “Because she’s gorgeous and successful and everything I’m not?”

“No. His exact words to me were, ‘George, everything that is Olivia was missing from that woman.’ And Olivia, you
are
gorgeous. Look in the mirror sometime,” George said.

“Don’t you dare try to flatter me!” Olivia snapped. “This is all about the fucking money isn’t it? I told Clete I didn’t care about the money, but he wouldn’t let it go! I suppose you want a cut of it, too, don’t you?”

“Clete didn’t do this for the money, and I didn’t start helping him for the money. I did this so you would know who your family is.” George reached for her but she smacked at his arms and face and scooted away.

“I
know
who my fucking family is you ignorant bastard! And until a minute ago I thought you were part of it, but you’re not! Not anymore!”

“Olivia, I didn’t want you to believe Toni’s lies and live the rest of your life thinking your mom abandoned you and lived this wonderful life without you. I didn’t want you to think you had a sister out there who had something that you didn’t,” George said, trying to calm her down. “Eugene almost died, and even though you never talk about it, I know how scared you are you’re going to lose him. And I know how hurt and frustrated you are over the fact that you don’t know anything about his relationship with your mother, or why she never came looking for you. When Clete told me about this woman claiming to be your sister, I got worried that you would believe her.”

“I don’t think Camille abandoned me, I
know
she did! But I don’t care! I never needed her! I have everything I need and everything I want in Eugene!” Olivia cried. “He’s always been my entire family before I met Toni and he was still my entire family after I met her! My mother has been dead to me my entire life and that bitch in the Barnes and Noble was
never
my sister, even when she claimed she was. Butt the
fuck
out of my life!”

She ripped the file out of his hands and sent it flying across the room. The papers came loose and fluttered to the floor in a shower of legal forms.

“How would you like it if I started butting into
your
life? What would you do if I picked up the phone right now and told your dad you’re gay? You’d be
pissed
if I did that! Well, you know what, George? I’m pissed! You have no right to invite fucking strangers into my life and pick through it with a fine-tooth comb—no matter how
discreet
they may be!”

She pushed off the bed and grabbed her dirty pants off the floor. They were inside out and twisted in a mess and she screamed as she struggled to fix them so she could put them on.

“Goddamn it, George! Why couldn’t you just leave everything alone?” She hopped into her pants and shoved her bare feet into her tennis shoes.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk!” She slammed the bedroom door and flew out of the apartment.

She started out in a flat run, but she was crying so hard she had to slow to a walk because she couldn’t see where she was going. For the second time in less than a week, Olivia circled around South as the history of her life smacked her in the face. This time the director of her little world didn’t want a piece of the action. No music played in her head, only images crossed the screen as she looked deeper inside herself and pulled out memories she had left buried a long time ago.

There was five-year-old Olivia, walking fast in front of Eugene so people wouldn’t think they were together, and seven-year-old Olivia telling her teacher that she was adopted and Eugene wasn’t her real father. Better yet, there was eight-year-old Olivia, desperate to fit in with the other kids, snickering with them when Eugene walked by with his head down watching his feet. Or thirteen-year-old Olivia screaming, “I hate you! Why can’t you be normal!” and slamming the door in his face.

The real prize was fifteen-year-old Olivia, getting high behind the bleachers with Pee-Pee, desperate to escape the reality of her life. Drunk Olivia slept with anyone who claimed they loved her, or anyone she hoped one day might, sacrificing her heart and objectifying her body in exchange for empty promises and false love, obsessing over what she felt she had been denied, what she felt had been stripped from her soul. Hating herself. Treating people like shit. Allowing herself to be treated like shit. Becoming a drunken, stupid whore, running in vicious circles trying to escape her pathetic, caged existence.

When she reached Clete’s house, she stopped walking. She harbored a heart full of hate for him and was itching to give him hell, but she knew deep down he didn’t deserve it. She deserved to unleash the rage on herself.

She prayed for that giant pink eraser again, this time to erase the last twenty-six years and start all over again. If she could rewind to the very beginning, she would start and end every single day of her life by telling Eugene that she loved him and appreciated him. She would tell him she understood the sacrifices he made to raise her. She would tell him the deplorable mess she had become wasn’t his fault—it was hers.

She sat on Clete’s front steps with her knees to her chest, and rested her head on her folded arms. She had cried tears up and down every city block in South, and desired to cry a million more, but she had reached the bottom of the well. There were no tears left to cry. All she could do was close her eyes and pray for forgiveness.

Clete came outside and placed a hand on her shoulder. Without looking up, she scooted over to make room for him beside her on the step.

“George called. He’s worried about you.”

“I came here to yell at you,” she said into her arms.

“Go ahead. I deserve it.”

“I’m not going to. I want to ask you something instead.” She turned her head on her arms and looked at him. “Is there anything Allie could do to you that you could never forgive?”

“No,” Clete answered without hesitation.

“Not even if she treated you like shit and said she hated you and secretly wished you weren’t her father?” Olivia asked. Somehow her eyes found new tears. They slid across the bridge of her nose and pooled on her sleeve.

“Not even then,” Clete said. He wiped the tears away and pulled her into his arms.

Her body trembled as her control gave way. “I’m a horrible person.”

“No, you’re not,” he assured her.

“Yes, I am. I wanted a different life. Every day I wanted to run like hell and never look back. I was jealous of Izzie and everyone else I ever met. Of people I didn’t even know. I just wanted to be normal. I wanted him to be normal. I didn’t understand him. I was ashamed of him,” she admitted through her choking sobs.

“You were a kid,” Clete said, as if that simple fact excused everything.

“I yelled at him and called him names and made fun of him behind his back. I told him I hated him so many times…”

Clete held her tighter and whispered, “Don’t do this to yourself, Olivia.”

“And he just took it. He didn’t deserve it, but he took it.”

“He knew you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t,” she said as she shook her head. “I didn’t mean any of it. I love him so much.”

“He knows you do.” He pulled her closer to him and held her tighter yet, his solid arms securely anchoring her. “I’m so sorry I started all of this. I wanted you to be happy, Olivia. I was too stupid to see you already were.”

“I am happy,” she said, but cried harder.

“I didn’t understand how you could be with Mitch after what he had done to you, and I didn’t understand that story you told me about your father. But now that I know him, I understand, Olivia—I understand completely—and I am so very sorry.”

“Mitch was the biggest mistake of my life…” Olivia started, but couldn’t finish. Her throat was too tight to get words out.

“Mitch is an idiot who never deserved you in the first place. And he’s going to pay for what he did to you,” Clete promised.

He held her and rocked her in his arms, and whispered words of comfort in her ear. Traffic passed on the street. His cell phone rang in his pocket. Juicy Fruit whined through the fence. Two kids sped past on their bikes down the sidewalk. Clete ignored it all and simply held her. And slowly, one by one, her tears dried.

“Who was my mother?” she finally asked him, ready to hear the truth, ready to know everything that was in the file.

Clete tipped her chin so she would look at him. He wiped her cheeks and smoothed her hair and cupped her face in his hands as he gazed deep into her red, puffy eyes, and answered, “Nobody.”

It was the right answer.

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia’s walk home took her past Carla’s house, and she stopped and rang her bell. Eugene let her in, and she crashed on the sofa and watched
Wheel of Fortune
and then the entire primetime lineup while he sat at the kitchen table and tinkered with a window air conditioner.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. She could have asked him about her mother again, but she didn’t. Maybe Eugene was in love with Camille and Camille was in love with Eugene, and Olivia was conceived in that love. Maybe they weren’t in love and she was nothing more than one big, stupid accident that Camille dumped in his lap the second she got the chance. Maybe it was something else entirely. Olivia didn’t know anything except that Alma Yetter was the keeper of the Camille/Eugene secret. That was why she was privy to Eugene’s perfect fireworks spot. If Olivia asked her to, Alma would more than likely tell her, but Olivia didn’t care anymore.

The only thing that mattered was what had happened after all was said and done and she had been created from random parts of two very different people. Eugene had loved her from the moment he knew she was born, and he hadn’t stopped loving her since.
That
was all that mattered.

She couldn’t fault George and Clete for not understanding. How could they? Neither one of them knew what it was like to be Olivia Newton John Hanson. She was the only lucky one who did.

After the ten o’clock news, Olivia dusted the Cheez Doodle dust off her t-shirt, stood up and said, “I’m going home.”

“Does George need a George Foreman grill?” Eugene asked without looking up.

“No, but his Cuisinart’s making a funny noise.”

“Have him bring it over.”

Eugene stubbed out his cigarette and took his glasses off to clean them on his t-shirt. He checked them carefully, then wiped at a spot he missed the first time. Once they were clean to his satisfaction, he returned them to their perch on his nose and started putting away his tools. He was done working for the night, but Olivia knew it would be a few hours before he went to bed.

For now, he would move out onto the porch with Chester to smoke and wait for Carla to come home from work, exactly as he had done for Olivia her entire life. It was his favorite part of the day. He loved to wait.

“Goodnight, Eugene.” She opened the front door and stepped outside without waiting for him to say goodnight in return. He wasn’t going to. There were no hellos and no goodbyes in Eugene’s world. Life was all one long day to him.

Olivia walked the rest of the way home knowing that no matter where she ended up in life Eugene would be there waiting for her to come home, and he saw it not as a burden, but as an honor. She hoped one day she would be blessed with that same honor.

When she got home, George held his arms out for her.

“I’m sorry,” he said as she settled against him on the sofa.

“So am I,” she said.

And that was officially the last time anyone mentioned Toni Tennille Dinwiddie or Camille Marie Logan ever again.

*  *  *

Olivia was a naughty witch for Halloween and burnt the turkey to a crisp on Thanksgiving. George opened all the windows to air out the apartment and made a replacement dinner of BLT’s and potato salad and served it picnic style in the middle of the living room on a blanket with candles and a bottle of wine. He worked his last day at Kitty’s the following Saturday. All of South showed up to drink their farewells to George, to their bar family. Everyone, except for Clete. Olivia waited for him all night long, but he never showed up. Somehow, it felt like her fault.

George served every drink for free until the liquor ran out, and when he closed the door for the final time, John Cougar Mellancamp’s
American Fool
CD was tucked into his jacket pocket. A week later, the bar was nothing more than a pile of rubble. The three other businesses in the row building went with it. A week after that, a brand-spanking new Kentucky Fried Chicken was helicopter-dropped into the empty lot by the same company that had dropped the Walgreens. Olivia refused to eat there out of protest, even on Gizzard Fridays.