Jewel Ann - Idle Bloom

“We should get some dinner before we go into a sugar coma.” Oliver suggests as we finish off the first loaf of banana bread.

“Well, I’m exhausted from baking all day…” I wink and grin “…so maybe we should go out for dinner.”

“Indian?”

“You read my mind, Mr. Konrad.”

“Grab your shoes. I’ll go throw on a shirt.” He kisses me then heads upstairs.

“Bye, Rosenberg. Be a good boy for Mommy.” I kiss him and shove my feet into my pink Nikes.

The doorbell rings just as I sling my purse over my shoulder.

I open the door to a man and a woman, maybe in their mid-fifties, staring at me with inscrutable faces. She smooths her shoulder-length auburn hair like it’s a nervous habit. His forehead below his peppered buzz cut wrinkles with what can only be confusion.

“Can I help you?”

They look at each other and then back at me. “Does Oliver Konrad live here?” he asks.

“Yes. He’s upstairs. Can I tell him who’s here to see him?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

My body tenses and an eerie tingle runs along my spine from the iciness of Oliver’s voice.

“We just want to talk, Oliver,” the woman says with a soft shaky voice.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“We do,” the man replies.

It seems improbable that this could feel any more awkward.

“You must be Vivian?”

I look at the woman and nod as Oliver wraps a possessive arm around me. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m at a disadvantage here.”

“Sorry, Jackie told me about you. She said you and Oliver are really happy together.”

“Um, yes, we are.” If Oliver’s mom told this lady about us, I assume she’s a relative or family friend.

“I’m Lily and this is my husband, Doug. We’re Caroline’s parents.”

Oliver’s grip on me intensifies. I’m not sure if he’s trying to hold me or himself together.

“Oh, wow, I thought you lived in Portland.”

“We do. We flew out here to talk to Oliver.”

I look up at Oliver. His jaw pulses as he keeps his death glare on them.

“Well, come in.” I step aside, feeling a slight resistance from Oliver’s body against mine.

“Thank you.” They make their way to the living room.

“I’ll be over…” I motion with my head in the direction of Alex’s “…if you need me.”

“I think it would be best for you to stay,” Doug calls from the couch. “This now involves you too.”

Oliver shakes his head and nudges me toward the door.

“Maybe I should stay, then?”

“No.”

“Oli—”

“There’s nothing they have to say that you need to hear.”

“We need you to come back to Portland.” Doug’s voice makes Oliver’s body shake with anger.

“I think I’m staying,” I whisper and walk past Oliver to sit on the love seat adjacent to the couch where Doug and Lily sit.

Oliver lumbers into the room and sits next to me. He’s seething with rage and I’m sure my decision to stay isn’t helping the situation. He takes my hand. I squeeze it tight hoping what little strength I have left after Doug’s comment will transfer to Oliver. I have this sick feeling he’s going to need it more than me.

“Caroline has been asking about you.” Doug continues. “Lily and I tried to explain that you’ve filed for divorce, but she’s in denial. Then we told her that you moved back here and since then she’s tried to commit suicide again. She said if she loses you too, then she has nothing to live for.”

I wish I could read Oliver’s mind. We’ve never discussed his feelings for Caroline. What does hearing this do to him? I remember the night he shattered his phone and now I wonder if it was a call about Caroline that set him off.

“You do realize she’ll probably never see the outside of that facility again, right?”

“Yes, we know it’s a long shot, Oliver, but we’re her parents and you’re her—”

“Nothing. I’m her nothing. Husband, only by law, but that won’t be for long.”

Doug nods and Lily wipes a few tears. “Before you left they had started to reduce her meds. The doctors were optimistic that she might make a recovery given enough time. Now she’s…” Doug’s eyes start to fill with tears “…she’s a shell, an empty vessel and … we just want our daughter back.”

Oliver releases my hand then rests his elbows on his knees with his head bowed into his hands. “I don’t know what this has to do with me.”

“She needs you!” Lily’s kept emotions burst with a desperate plea.

Doug hugs her to him and strokes her back. “We think she’ll come back around, at least to the daughter we recognize, if you’re there. If she thinks you haven’t abandoned her, she might find the will to do the therapy again, and start interacting with others. She might find … the will to live.”

“I can’t … I … won’t.”

“Oliver, please! Once she’s doing better we’ll be able to explain to her that your marriage is over and she’ll be better equipped to handle it if you give her some sort of closure instead of just abandoning her. Can’t you do this for her? For us? For … Melanie?”

I feel Oliver’s rage a split second before it erupts. “Get the fuck out of here! Don’t you dare ask me to help Caroline for my dead daughter’s sake! She suffocated her with a pillow! Do you get that? A two month-old baby, killed by her own mother! Why in God’s name would I try to help Caroline now if I didn’t want to help her then?”

Oliver’s words are a brutal slap to Doug and Lily. Their faces contort into painful grimaces.

Oliver stands and paces the floor with his hands on his hips. “That day … when I found her … my biggest regret was calling 9-1-1. You don’t know how bad I wanted to take the knife that was in her bloodied, limp hand and shove it into her ruthless heart.”

Lily sobs as Doug helps her to her feet. He opens the front door and turns. “I don’t even recognize you, Oliver. You’re not the loving man our Caroline married.” Doug’s gaze shifts to me. “Good luck, Vivian. You’re going to need it.”

Oliver

Vivian sits idle in the chair, holding Rosenberg. I don’t understand why she’s still here. I just admitted the one thing I never imagined admitting—I wanted Caroline to die. But it’s more than that. I didn’t want to stand by and watch her bleed out. I wanted to kill her.

She stands. Here it comes, the goodbye that will send me spiraling into the personal hell from which I had just started to emerge. I press my palm to my chest to keep my heart from leaping out after her; it knows she’s the rhythm to which it beats.

I close my eyes as she approaches the door where I stand. Of all the mental images I will forever have of Vivian, her walking out my door … out of my life, cannot be one of them.

Her hand on my cheek, so gentle, tears me apart. “I’m taking Rosenberg out to go potty. Then we’ll go eat. Okay, babe?”

I open my tear-filled eyes and suck in a shaky breath so desperate my lungs have a physical flashback to the day I was born.

She wipes her thumb under my eye as her lips curl into a tight, painful smile.

“Vivian—” I try to swallow back my emotions.

“Oli…” she tilts her head to the side “…no take backs. Remember?”

I’m paralyzed by her love. I know if I move I’ll wake from this dream, so I stand still—completely still—and pray this moment lasts forever.

“Come on, Rosenberg.” Her voice fades as she walks outside.

I stop the chanting in my brain. It’s always the same one. You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve her …

And I replace it with two words repeating over and over. Thank you! Thank you …