Jewel Ann - Idle Bloom

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.

Oliver

Igave Vivian the version of the story that showed the monster in Caroline. There’s the version where I’m a monster too. The one I’ve never told anyone. It’s the version that includes my thoughts that night … my regrets. I regretted calling 9-1-1 because Melanie was already dead and Caroline was still alive. Monster.

It’s almost midnight. We’ve both been in and out of sleep but never leaving each other’s arms. The most incredible woman in the world found me … me ! Someday I could wake up and discover she is in fact, just a dream. But for now I’m holding on to her with the intensity of a lifeline.

“Do you miss Rosenberg?”

I love her … I fucking love her more than I ever thought humanly possible. We haven’t said a word in six hours, not since I finished reliving my past, hopefully for the last time. Yet, she just knows to ask me about something as random and mundane as her dog.

“Can’t say I’ve given him much thought.”

She brushes her fingernails over my chest in the same repeated pattern. “Well, I think he took a real liking to you.”

“Mmm, I guess I’ll have to go visit him again.”

“Yes, or maybe he could come here … for a visit.”

“Uh … yeah, sure … I guess.”

“Really?” She looks up at me resting her chin on my chest.

I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

“Thanks, babe.” She leans up and kisses me. “I’m hungry.”

I chuckle. “It’s past midnight.”

“Well, all my tummy knows is that we missed dinner.” She climbs out of bed and looks over her shoulder. “You coming?”

“You’re serious?”

“Mr. Konrad, I’m always serious when it comes to food.” Her voice fades as she heads toward the stairs.

“I don’t have much food in the house.” I catch up to her at the bottom of the stairs.

“I should run across the street and see what Alex left for me. She was making the yummiest pasta with a cream sauce and the whole place smelled like sugar cookies which were to die for.”

“And you left that for me?”

She opens the refrigerator. “I know, what was I thinking? Jeez, Oli, not much was an overstatement. You have nothing.” She opens the pantry and grabs a nearly-empty jar of peanut butter and a bag with bread. She pulls out the bread. “Heels … figures.”

“I’ll stock the kitchen just for you tomorrow.” I pull her hair away from her neck and kiss her soft skin.

“Where are your plates?” she asks while opening and shutting the doors to the empty cabinets.

I step back and hop up on the island with my hands folded in my lap. “Funny you should ask. I haven’t had a chance to replace them since the home invasion .”

She turns toward me, licking the peanut butter off the knife. “Oli …”

I shake my head and reach for her arm, pulling her between my legs. “Don’t. I don’t want you to be sorry or feel bad or regretful. I should have told you long before you found out.”

“But—”

I press my finger to her lips. Her eyes fill with tears. “No buts. Just because I’ve shared everything with you doesn’t mean you’re supposed to give me a free pass. I love you, Vivian, and I knew it long before I said it. So I should have told you then. I should have told you everything.”

She nods while I wipe away the few tears that have fallen down her cheeks. “Just let me say this once, Oli. I need you to hear it. Okay?”

I feel the desperation in her voice. “Okay.”

She draws in a slow breath then releases it as she sets down the knife and takes my hands in hers. “What happened to your family is unimaginable. I still can’t comprehend it. But you have some issues that aren’t going to disappear by simply ignoring them.”

I look away then close my eyes.

“You have to deal with what’s behind that door. I can deal with you having pain, Oli. People live with pain, but that’s not pain. That’s torture. And eventually it’s going to destroy you.”

She squeezes my hands and I open my eyes. “So, stock your kitchen.” She steps back and grabs her sandwich. “I like crunchy by the way, this creamy crap is lackluster.”

We both smile.

“I’ll meet you for breakfast and let you take me to dinner. If you’re lucky, I’ll indulge you in a slumber party on the weekends, but I won’t move back in with you or make a commitment to a future with you until that door is opened and the walls are painted yellow. I want my single bed in there and a desk to use for my school work. And when I come to bed with you in our bed I want to lie on my pillow after you’ve made love to me once and fucked me twice.” She winks. “I need the Oli that I fell in love with. The guy who bought me my first bikini and gave me my first orgasm—the guy who let me lick my Boston Kreme donut off his—”

“Vivian!” I adjust myself. “I get the point.” My body is at war. She’s talking about my past and essentially telling me to get my shit together or we don’t have a chance, but at the same time she’s eating, and my dick knows that my brain views her eating much the same as watching porn.

“Sorry, babe. But you get what I’m trying to say, right?”

“Yeah, I get it.” I grab her wrist and take a bite of her sandwich. “I need to get it together and you like to lick food off my body.” I mumble over a mouthful.