by Lori L. Otto
“We probably would have pushed it.”
“You’d scratch up these–are these floors new, too?”
“Everything’s new,” I reiterate. Before he moves the couch, he analyzes the space and moves the other two pieces of furniture first, getting my approval on their placement. Then, I pretend to help him by pushing the couch, but he’s clearly doing all the work. After he has the sofa where I want it, he removes the towel, handing it to me before he has a seat. I grab his glass to get him a refill. “So, how are your brothers?” I ask him on my way to the kitchen.
“They’re great,” he says, but doesn’t expand upon it until I return to the living room, taking a seat on an ottoman next to him. He looks remorseful as he continues. “I’m so glad I went there. I needed that time with them.”
“Good,” I respond.
“But Liv, I am so sorry.”
“I know,” I say. “We can talk about all of this later.”
“I just feel like this party’s going to to be weird if we don’t talk now.”
“It won’t,” I assure him. “We’re just hanging out with friends... you can bring Fred if you want–”
“He took Yasmin upstate for the weekend,” he says.
I smile at him, feeling a sense of relief at the word Yasmin. “That’s his girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“So she got into Columbia after all?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I guess we found out at the beginning of the summer.”
“Cool. And how’s your mom doing?”
“Never better,” he says, taking a sip of water and sinking comfortably into the couch. “Really. She’s clean, she has a job, she’s taking responsibility... she’s even giving out some pretty good advice these days.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah. How are your parents? I talked to your Mom a few weeks ago... she helped make arrangements to move my things out of your studio space. She seemed... sad.”
“Really? She didn’t mention it to me... but they’re doing well. I’m not sure how they’ll take this news about Isaiah, though.” I stand up to grab the letter off the table once more. “Isaiah Grate. Do you think that’s British? Grate?”
“Maybe Scottish,” he says. “Great Scott!” he teases with a bad accent, then hears what he says. We both watch each other as the realization hits at the same time.
“Oh, my God,” I giggle, and he has to set his water down so he doesn’t risk spilling it as he, too, breaks into a fit of laughter.
“Grate... Scott...” he is barely able to vocalize between breaths. “If you... if you...” He can’t finish the sentence.
“If I grew up with him,” I say after regaining a little composure, “and married you...” I crack up again. “Livvy Grate-Scott!” I squeak out in a tone that’s at least an octave higher than my normal speaking voice. It makes him laugh even harder, and we’re both grabbing for tissues to wipe our eyes. Finally, the moment passes.
“But that will never be,” I say finally with a smile.
“Right,” he says, and all evidence of his smile is gone. “I understand.”
“Wait,” I stop him, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. “I didn’t grow up with him, Jon, so of course I–” I stop when I catch on to what he was thinking. “Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks blush hot.
“And you don’t think tonight will be awkward?” he asks, well aware of the strange tension that now settles over the room.
“Maybe I’ll feel more like talking later. I just need to get my mind off things for awhile, and this party will probably do the trick.”
“We can’t talk with everyone around. What I need to say to you, Liv, I want to do it in private.”
“I promise, we’ll find a way. If we have to kick my uncle out of his place across the hall, he’d do that for me.”
“Which uncle?”
“Matty,” I tell him. “My dad would never let me move in here without having someone nearby.”
“And Matty’s the best he could do?” he teases me.
“He’s always looked out for me,” I tell him. “Actually, he’s always looked out for us.”
He takes my hand in his, and I let him, though I don’t hold on to him like he holds on to me. “He has.”
“I think I should tell them,” I say, changing the subject as I think of my mom and dad and all they’ve done to care for me. “I think they deserve to know about Isaiah.”
“Why?” he asks simply, removing his hand. “Just consider all the angles.”
“I would feel bad, hiding it from them.”
“So to make you feel better,” he says, and I’m immediately offended.
“You think I’m selfish for that?” I say, losing my temper. “I’ll tell you who’s selfish. You, for walking out on us. You, for refusing to answer my calls or respond to my letters. You, for pushing me away when I came to see you. You, for believing whatever the hell you wanted to believe about me and Finn when the truth was right in front of you all along. I am not selfish.
“You are selfish.”
One corner of his lip rises into a smile.
“Don’t smile. Defend yourself! What do you have to say?”
“Are we talking about this now?”
“I guess we are!” Although I’m not sure how we got here...
“I can’t defend my behavior, Olivia. I can’t defend something I don’t understand. I can’t defend something I would never do to you today, or ever again in our future. It’s indefensible. I know this. It wasn’t right.”
“It’s not just that it wasn’t right,” I say to him. “It wasn’t loving. What you did wasn’t loving, at all.” I start to cry again, this time tears of frustration.
“I know,” he whispers softly. “It was absolutely the most selfish thing I’ve done, and I have so many regrets.” He kneels in front of me, forcing his face into my line of vision, as I’d been staring at the rug beneath my feet. He tries to hold my hands, but I pull them away, crossing my arms defiantly in front of my chest.
“What are they?”
“My regrets?” he asks.
I nod my head. He stands up and walks with purpose to the paintings.
“This one’s Break, right?” He points to the second painting on the bottom row. I look briefly at the canvas, studying the contrast in the city and country scenes divided by a rift of thick, black paint.
“Yeah,” I say simply, shocked that he could just pick it out.
“I’ll start there. I regret not discussing my summer plans with you far sooner, when I had the idea to go to Utah. We could have talked about my various reasons and come up with a compromise that would have made both of us happier.
“Intervention, right?” he asks immediately after, pointing to the last painting on the second row. Tears drip down my cheeks as I let him know he’s correct. “I regret causing you so much pain by walking away the first time that you thought...”
He has to stop to swallow a lump in his throat, and when he looks back at me, he’s crying. “That you thought ending your life was a better option.”
“Jon–” I stand up, wanting to assure him I’m much better, but he motions for me to stay seated.
“Let me continue, Liv. Please.”
“Okay.” I sit back down, watching him find another one.
“Antio. God,” he breathes, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. “That one nearly killed me. I thought you were saying goodbye to me. With that one, I regret that I didn’t see that you were modeling after your parents. Jack is Emi’s savior, and you thought I could be that for you. I knew I couldn’t. I knew you were the only one. I regret not directing you back to your painting, Liv.
“And Independence. I regret not forcing my mother to come to my graduation... and then The End, I regret even more not remembering the pain of my mother’s absence when I just bailed on your day. I regret hurting you on top of the physical and emotional pain you were already enduring.
“And Olivia,” he continues, standing back momentarily and admiring the painting of a red pair of lips kissing a quote on a man’s shoulder, “I regret ever making you think I wanted anything other than the woman you are. The woman you’ve always been. I regret not encouraging you more when you did the things that make you Livvy Holland... and I regret criticizing you for stumbling, and trying to do things that you thought I wanted. I regret making you feel like you failed me.” He walks over to me and sits next to me. “Baby, you never failed me.
“And back to The End,” he says, looking at me directly, sincerely, “I regret not being there to hold you when they called out DeLuca. Shit, Livvy, I would have stood up, walked across that stage and corrected the man!” he says with a little bit of a laugh. “But know that, no matter what name anyone calls you, that you, Livvy Holland... you, as a human, as a singular entity in this vast world, you... are unforgettable–to anyone who’s ever met you.
“And I regret running from you and Finn. I regret not letting you have a chance to explain then, and then for making you spend your entire summer pouring your heart out to me in thirty paintings... in thirty letters... thirty of the most beautiful letters that I will cherish for a lifetime, Liv. Thank you,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“You’re welcome.” He stands back up, and returns to the bottom row.
“Heart. Man, how I regret not finding a room for us that night,” he says reflectively with an impish grin. I smile, too, remembering how romantic it was last Valentine’s Day. “And I ended up being emotionless and cold-hearted to you, just like that fucking statue...”
He swallows again, acknowledging what he’s done as he runs his hand through his dark hair. “I regret that,” he adds softly.
“Where’s Promises?” he asks, just before finding the abstract painting of my ring. “Of course. I regret not keeping them, Livvy. How could you take any future ones seriously when I’ve done such a horrible job keeping the ones I’ve already made? How can I make that up to you, ever?
“And Unthinkable. You are so right to question every motive I had that day. I was an idiot to ask you to take that kind of risk with me. And for me to make you prove to me you’d taken your pills. You should have slapped me. There are about twenty different things I did that day that you could have slapped me for. I deserve to be despised for my actions, I do. But never question if I would have left or stayed, had the outcome been different. I know they’re just words. I can’t expect you to believe me after what I put you through this summer, but I would have stood by you. I will stand by you.
“Exposed,” he says, touching the painting of me, mimicking the pose in the leaked picture from that day in the loft. “I regret ever meeting Hollis. I regret not having a better password. I regret that this beautiful moment... of you, at your most breathtaking... was stolen from us and given to a greedy and cynical world that couldn’t understand how special it truly was.
“Eighteen. I regret taking you to that damned bar... and I regret abandoning you while you figured things out with your dad.
“I hate this history of abandonment. That’s not who I am.” He turns around to look at me. “I face challenges... I’ve faced challenges with you, so why did I turn my back on you when you’ve needed me the most?
“I haven’t wanted to be a crutch to you... and I don’t think I knew how to support you without carrying you, but I’ve figured it out. I will stand next to you, Liv. I’ll encourage you. I’ll listen. I will be here for you.
“I regret that I wasn’t. That I haven’t been.”
I had wondered if he could ever deliver an apology that would be good enough for me. I shouldn’t be surprised that he has. I never should have doubted him. We aren’t finished. I walk over to him and give him a hug. He holds on tightly for a long time. When he finally releases me, he keeps my hand in his and pulls me with him to the first painting.
“And Declaration. I regret two things.” He faces me, putting one hand on my jawline and dragging the fingers of his other hand through my short hair. He gazes into my eyes, and I’m trapped. I smile at him, waiting for him to continue. “I regret not telling you with conviction how much I loved you. And I regret not telling you right there in that moment that you were, without a doubt, not only the girl I chose to date, but the girl I was choosing to spend my life with, Livvy, because to this day, there is no one else. And there will be no one else that I want to be with, because...”
I put my hand on top of his, holding it to my face, wanting him to kiss me, but his attention goes back to the wall.
He searches the board until he finds the next one. “Partners.” He pulls away, sitting cross-legged on the floor, gesturing for me to do the same so we can better see the painting on the bottom row. It’s an image of us as kids, painting together in the tiny yard of Nate’s Art room. “Partners? No, not to me, Liv. I may be your partner, but you are my soul mate, by my definition: the person without whom my soul will not rest.”
“Jon,” I say wearily, getting on my knees quickly and pulling his lips to mine.
“I’m not finished,” he mumbles against me.
“We aren’t finished,” I tell him, kissing him more, missing it, missing him... needing him.
“We aren’t?” he asks after he finally breaks for a breath.
“No,” I whisper, resting my forehead on his.
“Reunion.” His eyes never blink as he continues with his apology. “I regret not reading that damned letter that night. And I regret not returning this to you immediately.” He stretches to get the wooden box and unties the ribbon, revealing the Choisie necklace atop a pile of letters. My letters.
“I regret taking it off,” I tell him, allowing him to clasp it around my neck.
“Livvy, I am so sorry. I need your forgiveness. What do you want in return?”
“I only want you, Jon,” I tell him. “For good.”
“Forever,” he says back to me. “I’ll give you everything you want. But I have one more apology.”
“Go ahead,” I say, and immediately start to dread what it might be. Was he with someone over the summer? I should have asked that first. That would change how I feel.
“I regret manipulating you today to get you to talk about this with me... it, again, was selfish, but after deciding I was going to do this today, I knew I couldn’t leave without telling you how sorry I am. How can I earn your forgiveness for that?”
“Help me with all the angles,” I say. “Maybe I’ll make a pro and con list about Isaiah.”
“Is there a pen and paper in the studio?” he asks, getting up and walking away from me.
“In a drawer, yes, but... not this second. Can you come back?”
“Of course.” He helps me up off the ground and pulls me into another hug. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been out on a few dates,” I tell him, “with some guys at Yale.”
“Livvy, I don’t think I want to know any more. We were apart and it was my fault. What I drove you to do... I don’t want to know.”
“That’s just it. They were just dates. I never let anyone kiss me. I mean, except for Finn, but–”
“Baby, let’s move on.”
“Well? What about you?”
“There was a girl in Utah.” I feel suddenly sick to my stomach, but decide to hear him out. “Her name was Audrey, and she was just a friend. I kissed her on the cheek a few times... any inclination to do more was just out of spite, but it never went further than that.”
I sigh, relieved. “Do you still talk to her?” I ask.
“We’ve texted back and forth a few times... about school. I can show you,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“No, it’s okay. I believe you.” I believe him, but I can’t deny that I feel a little bit of jealousy. I try to shake it off.
“Good,” he continues. “What about these Yalies? Are you friends with them?”
“One of them, yes,” I admit. “He’s actually coming to the party tonight.”<
br />
“Then I’m happy I’m invited,” he comments.
“Yeah, he kind of might think that he and I are still dating, though.”
“Wait, what? Are you?”
“I just haven’t had a chance to break it off with him... but I had planned to, even before you showed up. I swear, Jon.” He looks at me seriously. “You did show up out of the blue, you know? Had you been in communication with me at all, I could have planned this better.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he agrees easily. “In fact, if you would rather me not come tonight–”
“I’d rather everyone else not come tonight, honestly, but that would be rude,” I tell him. “But I’ll make sure to make it clear to him.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that for me.”
“I had planned on setting things straight anyway. I’m dreading it, but I’ve planned it.”
“Okay,” he says softly, brushing his lips against mine. “So... all your firsts...”
“Still yours,” I assure him. “And your lasts?”
“All yours. For good.”
“Forever,” we say together before meeting in another kiss. I could do this all day.
“Little Liv!” my uncle yells before knocking on my door, startling us both and stealing us away from the moment.
“Yes, Matty!” I holler back, walking to the door.
“Let us in! We have some decorating to do! Anna’s orders!”
“Is it okay that I’m here?” Jon whispers.
“I’m eighteen. The place is mine. You’re welcome anywhere I am.”
“Good,” he responds.
“Plus, it’s Matty,” I say as I open the door for him and Nolan. “Hey, guys.” I hug them both after they put down their supplies.
“We didn’t know you had company,” Matty’s boyfriend says.
“Jon?” my uncle says excitedly. “Livvy! It’s Jon!”
“I know!” I laugh at him.
“What’s he doing here?” he whispers loudly in my ear.
“I came to apologize,” Jon says honestly.
“Let’s hear it,” he says.
“Come on, Matty, don’t put him on the spot, he’s–”
