by Zeia Jameson
“This sounds serious.” I begin my way back to the office.
“You might want to stay out of this, son. It’s pretty damn tough breaking up two pit bulls. You might lose some fingers.”
“Taking my chances,” I bellow, still walking towards the office. The door is open. I approach the room and Livy has her back to me.
“How the fuck can you do this? What am I supposed to do now?” Livy screams.
“Livy, you have a degree. There’s plenty you can do. I’m not going to let you waste your life away here in this trash dump,” Joe answers calmly.
“This isn’t a trash dump!” Livy screams barely letting Joe get his words out. “It’s my job and I happen to like it. A lot! And you are taking it from me!”
“Livy, you need to go find something that you are passionate about. Go change the world. Make a difference. You have that in you and you can’t do it from behind that bar.”
“Goddammit, Joe, why are you doing this? Stop trying to run my life! Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Someone who cares about you enough to not let you get stuck here forever. I don’t want you waking up a forty year old wishing you’d gotten out when you had the chance.”
Joe looks over Livy’s shoulder at me. Livy turns and looks at me. The look on her face isn’t one I’ve ever seen. It’s homicidal. I’m terrified.
“Perfect,” Livy says in my direction. “Did you have a hand in this? Is this some kind of ploy between the two of you to micromanage my life for me?”
“Livy, I have no idea what I just walked into. What is going on?” I ask.
Livy points at Joe. “This son of a bitch is selling the bar!”
“What?” I look at Joe and he gives me a confirming look. “Someone made me an offer three times its value. They want to turn it into a TGIFridays or some shit.”
“You are a selfish son of a bitch, Joe! I can’t believe you did this without talking to me about it. I’ve put almost four years into this place! I’ve held this place together when you couldn’t. And now you are just going to what? Just pull the rug out from under me, slap me on my ass and say have a nice life!?”
Livy’s breathing is labored. I think she might hyperventilate. “Livy,” I say softly “maybe you should...”
“Stay out of this Jeremy! This is none of your fucking business!” she snaps and Joe immediately grabs her by the shoulders and turns her square to his stance so that they are eye to eye. I can’t see her face but her posture stiffens like she’s shocked by his actions.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that, Livy! You can say what you want to me but if I ever hear you talk to Jeremy like that again, I’ll hang you upside down by your ankles and shake the stupid out of you, girl! That boy has done nothing but be wonderful to you. Don’t let that mouth of yours run him off.”
There he goes talking about me again like I’m not here. I clear my throat just to alert them I’m still standing in the doorway.
Livy’s posture relaxes and she hangs her head. Joe places his hand under her chin and lifts her face. “Now. If you would shut the fuck up for two seconds, young lady, I can tell you the rest of the story. Some guys in suits came in a few weeks ago saying they want to buy this whole block of buildings. Offered me a shit ton of money. A shit ton. I’m old, Livy. Having some money in the bank without having to worry about this bar, or you, is exactly how I want to spend the rest of my days.”
Even from the angle I have, I can tell Livy is about to say something. Joe puts his hand over her mouth. “Stop. Let me finish for fuck’s sake.” She nods and he removes his hand.
“I’m giving you forty percent, Livy.”
“What?” Livy tilts her head to the side and whispers.
“I’m giving you forty percent of the shit ton. This bar wouldn’t have survived without you and I have no problems admitting that. Sixty percent is plenty for me. You deserve the rest. You can take your time and figure out what you want to do with your life. That’s what I want for you.”
Now is the part in a regular scenario where the grateful girl hugs the big burly man that she sees as a father figure and thanks him relentlessly. He hugs her back and all is right with the world.
Except, this is Livy we are talking about here.
She steps back from Joe. Then, before I even know it’s happening, she slaps him across the face. Hard. The sound of hand meeting face is like a baseball colliding with a wooden bat.
“Fuck you, Joe. I don’t want your goddamned money.”
Livy turns and walks in my direction. She pushes past me in the doorway and continues to walk toward the front door.
I look at Joe who who’s rubbing his face with his hand.
“You ok?” I ask.
“I’m fine. I just wish that girl wasn’t so goddamned hard headed.”
“I better go catch her. She’ll come around, I’m sure.”
“You be careful with her Jeremy. Don’t let her words hurt you. She says dumb shit when she’s angry like this. But she doesn’t mean it. Don’t let her run you off. She’s a good girl. And you’re good for her.”
“I know. Thanks, Joe.”
“Sure thing, kid,” he says, still rubbing his face.
I make my way past Henry and Ben, who both give me a curious look, and I head outside. She was too far ahead of me. I have no idea which way she went. I decide to head to her house. On the way there I think of a million things to try to say to her to get her to calm down.
This is a good thing, Livy.
Joe just wants to take care of you.
It’s what’s best for you both.
You terrify me when you’re angry but it’s also kind of hot.
Ok, maybe that last line won’t be the one I’ll lead with.
I get to Livy’s building and there are no lights from her window. I head up anyway and knock.
“Livy?”
I wait. And I knock again.
“Livy?”
Nothing.
I decide to use the key she gave me and unlock the door. I open it just slightly.
“Livy, it’s Jeremy. I’m coming in. Please don’t attack me.”
Silence.
I open the door all of the way and go in. I check her bedroom first. Then the bathroom and even Sara’s room.
“Livy?” I call out into the dark and apparently empty apartment. There is no answer.
I pull out my phone and try to call her. Straight to voicemail.
Damn woman. She’s turned off her phone.
I leave her apartment and lock up. My next stop is the bookstore she told me about earlier today. I honestly can’t think of anywhere else she would go. I pray that she doesn’t end up in some other bar. As angry as she is, if she gets some drinks in her she’s likely to beat the crap out of the first guy who speaks to her.
The bookstore is closed. Shit. I take out my phone and text Sara.
I start walking, waiting for an answer. I peek into the windows of a few bars and restaurants that I pass. No luck.
My phone buzzes. It’s Sara.
I roll my eyes.
I put my phone away not waiting for a response. I’m jogging and I don’t really realize it until I get to the footbridge and I’m out of breath. I look around. It’s dark but there is lighting around the bridge. I don’t see her. I cup my hands around my mouth. “Livy!!!” After no response I call out once more.
“She ain’t here.”
I turn to see a man lying on a bench with a newspaper covering his shoulders.
“
Excuse me?”
“You looking for Livy, right?”
“Yeah,” is all I can say. I’m bewildered.
“She ain’t here. If she was I woulda seen her. She would have said hi.”
“Do you know Livy?”
“Sure do. We used to live together. She comes by every once in a while and brings me a sandwich.”
I may have just entered the Twilight Zone. I think I can hear the macabre theme music in the background.
“I’m sorry. Did you say you used to live together? With Livy?”
“Sure did. We were at the south side shelter together for a while. Sweet girl.”
I want to ask him so many questions but I’d be wasting time I need to spend on finding Livy.
“So you haven’t seen her tonight?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Thanks for letting me know. Here.” I take a couple of twenties out of my wallet, “I appreciate your help. I hope this helps you get a few good hot meals.”
“Thanks.” He takes the money and looks up at me. “She told me she found a good one. Take care of her.”
“Sure thing. I just need to find her first. Have a good night.”
“You too. I’m sure you’ll find her soon. If there’s any place you can think of where she can park herself with a book, go there. That’s where I’d look. But, of course, I assume that’s why you came here.”
Well he definitely knows Livy.
“Ok. Thanks again.” I need to get very far away from the weirdest moment of my life. I’m jogging again. Then it hits me.
Her chair.
But that’s too easy. She couldn’t have just gone home.
My home.
Our home.
I head to my house. I’m there in five minutes. Lights are on. Good sign.
I get to my door and unlock it as fast as I can. “Livy!”
The spare bedroom door is closed. I open it and see Livy in her chair. But she isn’t reading. She’s passed out. Her face is red and swollen as if she’s been crying. There’s a bottle of bourbon at her feet. Half empty.
I rush over to her and kneel beside her.
“Livy. Wake up. Livy.” I tap her cheek very gently. She jumps and her head shoots up, eyes wide. “What the fuck?” she yells.
I grab one of her hands “Shhh. Hey. It’s just me.”
She looks at me and it takes her a moment to get her bearings.
Then she starts to cry.
Hard.
I grab her and pull her down to the floor with me. I hold onto her as tightly as I can. “Hey. It’s ok. It’s ok.” But every word I say is just making her cry harder. I stop talking and just hold her.
“Why do you have to love me, Jeremy? I’m a horrible person! Just like my mother. You don’t want me! Joe was just trying to do the right thing and I slapped him! I slapped him! Just like my mother. I’m just like her! Sara left! Joe’s kicking me out and surely he hates me now. You’re next. Just go ahead and leave already! It’s what I deserve! I don’t deserve anyone! I deserve to be alone because I’m just like her! I can’t love anybody! It’s all her fault!” She screams the last few words and then she sobs. Harder than I’ve ever seen anyone cry. I want to cry for her. I squeeze her so tight.
“I’m not letting you go,” I whisper. She continues to cry, saying no more words. We stay that way for at least half an hour until she falls asleep.
~~~
With her still in my arms, I try to lift us both off the floor without waking her. I figured the half a bottle of bourbon would have assisted in putting her into a deeper sleep, so my awkward jerky movements wouldn’t bother her too much. However, of course, I was wrong.
Livy turns her head and moans. Then she opens her eyes and looks at me. “What time is it?”
There is no clock in the room and my phone is in my pocket. I am highly aware that my phone is in my pocket because it’s been vibrating my leg all night with calls from, I’m sure, Sara. Or Joe. Or both. But because of the same reason I haven’t answered those calls, I also can’t check what time it is. My hands are full with Livy. But I don’t care because only Livy matters regardless the time.
“Not sure,” I answer. “But I’ll guess it’s probably 11:30.” I’m still trying to manage getting us both off the floor. She’s making it a little more difficult now that she’s wriggling about.
“Here, let me help.” She motions to stand up on her own when she realizes I’m struggling a bit.
She keeps her arms around my neck and plants her feet on the floor. Then we stand together.
“You ok, Livy?” I ask, worried what her answer might be.
She nods. “Yes. I have a bitch of a headache and I’m a little embarrassed, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“No need to be embarrassed. Stupid shit happens sometimes when your heart hurts. Did I ever tell you about the time I got arrested?”
She lifts her head and looks at me “What? No! You’ve failed to mention your criminal history, mister.” She smiles and I smile back.
“Well let’s get you to bed and perhaps we’ll discuss in the morning.”
Livy shakes her head at me. Her hair is a tousled mess, but she is still so fucking beautiful. “Nuh, uh. You are spilling now. Come on. I need aspirin and coffee.” She walks out of the room and I follow. She makes her way to the kitchen and begins making coffee.
I sit at the table and watch her as she brews the coffee and reaches for the aspirin and a water glass. After she pops the pills and chases them with water, she grabs two coffee mugs and turns toward the fridge. Either she is still half asleep or she’s entered into her own little world. There is a glaze over her eyes and she’s staring off into space. She pours a little milk into both mugs and heads back over to the coffee maker. The coffee is still percolating but she quickly replaces the pot with a mug. Then she replaces the first mug with the second mug and finally repositions the coffee pot in It’s proper place. All without spilling a drop.
“You know you ruin the whole pot doing that.”
“Who cares?” she says flatly.
“No one in this room.”
She brings the mugs over to the table and sits sliding one mug in my direction.
She takes a sip and sighs with her eyes closed. “Perfect.” Livy opens her eyes and looks in my direction. “Now. Tell me about your time in the clink.”
I laugh. I think that is the same term my mother used when she picked me up. The clink.
“Is it a funny story?” she asks, responding to my laughter.
“It is, but I was laughing because you reminded me of my mother. She used that same term when she bailed me out. The clink.”
“Interesting. Is she a George Orwell fan?”
And the most random question award goes to Livy.
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“George Orwell once tried to get arrested on purpose to see what it was like to spend Christmas in prison. The cops wouldn’t send him because they said he wasn’t drunk and disorderly enough to be sent to prison and they released him. He later wrote an essay about it and titled it Clink. I think that’s the first time jail was referred to as the clink in a literary reference. After that, I think they started using it in movies…”
I’m not even really sure who George Orwell is but hearing Livy ramble on about the origins of the phrase, the clink, is mind-blowingly fascinating. Mind-blowingly? Is that even word? Probably not. I may be watching too much ESPN with Livy. I’ve tripled my viewing time of that channel since she and I met. They create their own words all of the time. Trickeration. Heismanology. Escapability. It must be rubbing off. But word or no word, mind-blowingly is an accurate depiction of how I feel about Livy’s awesome randomness.
However, I must be looking at her as though I’m completely uninterested because the moment she makes eye contact with me, she stops mid-sentence. “You know what? Never mind. I took a tangent there. Sorry. We were discussing your criminal deviance.” She motions her hand towards me to con
tinue. I proceed to tell her about Jessie and how she broke my heart and how I got drunk and detained.
“Technically, not arrested,” I made clear.
Livy laughs “Oh! You poor thing! I guess it’s good that you had people in your community looking out for you. And your mother…” Livy looks down at her coffee mug. Her grip tightens around it and her eyebrows dip together in the center of her forehead. “If that had been me…” She stops and inhales, “I probably would have been patted down inappropriately by the arresting officer and my mother would have let me rot in jail.”
That is the first time Livy has ever mentioned her mother or her past. Sober, at least.
She looks up at me. “You want to know, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But not so I can feel bad or sorry for you. I’d like to help you move past it if I can. Your past hurts you. I can tell. You don’t deserve that, Livy. You don’t. If I can help mend that, I’ll try my damnedest to. But I’m not going to force you to tell me.”
Still looking at her mug and gripping it tightly, Livy parts her lips to speak. At first there is no noise. I don’t move. I don’t want to give her any excuse or opportunity to back out of anything she might be about to tell me.
I want her to trust me. I want her to have faith in me that I won’t see her in any other light than the one I see her in now. She is my Livy. My tough-as-nails, tells-it-like-it-is, knows-everything-about-everything, one-of-a-kind Livy.
“My mother is...my mother is an alcoholic and a drug addict. I’m fairly sure she was both long before she had me. I’m not even sure how I survived to the point where I could take care of myself, which was about age five. I know we lived with my grandfather at some point but I don’t know how long and I only remember small fragments of that time. I grew up alone. My mother was home sometimes but there was usually some random guy with her that couldn’t care less that I existed. My mother was a hateful person. She hit me when she was angry. Even if I didn’t provoke it. And there was really no one I could tell. I didn’t trust anyone. Our town was very small and everyone seemed to have a layer of scum covering them. I tried to give people the benefit of the doubt but once you’ve done that a few times and it’s bitten you in the ass, you build a wall and keep everyone at a distance. I didn’t have friends. I drudged through high school in the shadows, staying away from attention. I let my guard down a few times and went out with guys but none of them ever really wanted me. To talk to me or get to know me. They all knew who my mother was and they assumed I was also just as easy. They wanted to be the one to uncover the mystery of what I looked like naked. After they discovered it wasn’t going to happen, they left me alone for the most part but they all said they’d slept with me anyway…and that I was lousy in bed. I built my wall higher and thicker and just became numb. I knew that if I didn’t get out of there I would drown or waste away. Or eventually crack and become my mother. That realization scared the shit out of me. So I began planning my escape. I kept my grades up and applied for scholarships at schools all over the country. I didn’t give a shit where I went, I just wanted to go. And I felt like going to college was a better step in the right direction than just running away with no plan at all. I didn’t want to move away just to fall on my face in a strange city and end up like my mother anyway. And that’s how I ended up here. I got a full scholarship. So, on my eighteenth birthday, I bought a bus ticket and left. And I never looked back.” She exhales again, her head hanging, waiting for judgment.
