Livvy

by Lori L. Otto

“Not one bit. Are you afraid you won’t love me anymore?”

  I shake my head. “The other way around. What if I change so much you won’t know me? Or love me?”

  Now he laughs out loud. “Impossible. Experiences change us all the time. This trip has changed us, right?”

  I nod.

  “And this walk to the rocks. It’s an entirely new thing you’ve done. The adrenaline that got you here took more bravery than you knew you had. It did the same to me. This changed you.”

  “It’s different.”

  “Is it? I don’t think so. Fundamentally, people are how they are. At the core, they have their traits and morals and...” His voice trails off, but I wait for him to continue.

  “Experiences change the way we see things, or react to things, but they don’t change us at the foundation like that. Well, maybe psychotropic drugs or, like, finding religion do, but you are too smart for drugs, and you know your spirituality already. You’re connected to something greater and divine when you paint.

  “This will not change the person you are so much that we stop loving one another. If anything, this will help define you better. What an amazing opportunity Ariana is offering you.”

  “I almost wish it was you that had this offer,” I tell him.

  “No, no,” he says with a light chuckle. “I don’t wish that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to be the one to choose to separate us again.” He meets my eyes and smiles apologetically.

  “If the tables were turned, though... would you?” I ask him. “Would you take it?”

  “I would,” he says quietly, holding my hand. I can tell he was afraid to admit it. I consider what I would do if the tables were turned, and he left me again. I feel sad as I remember the loneliness I felt when he went to Utah.

  “Even if it meant leaving me behind again?”

  “We’re bigger than this, Livvy. And my God, baby,” he says emphatically, “we survived last summer. I hate bringing it up, but we weren’t just divided by miles, we had some serious issues. Look at us now. Forgiveness happened. Empathy. A new understanding. We grew. As individuals we grew, and as a couple, too.”

  He puts his hand on my cheek and angles my face to his. I move to meet his lips quickly, scratching the nape of his neck lightly with my fingernails.

  “I love you, Olivia.” As I try to kiss him again, he stops me and forces me to look him in the eye. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Jon. I just don’t want you to ever love me any less.”

  “Ninety days and five-thousand miles couldn’t even begin to chip away at the mountain of affection I have for you, baby.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know that. I will make whatever assurances you need to make you believe it.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely. If you want to wake up with me every morning, let me be your alarm clock. I’ll call you and tell you all the ways I love you until you’re ready to get out of bed.”

  “And at night?”

  “I’ll tell you bedtime stories of our fairytale future together until you fall asleep. And in every one, I’ll love you a little more.”

  “That sounds okay,” I admit coyly, looking at him and waiting for another kiss.

  He nods his head as I feel something brush up against my foot. I nearly knock my camera into the ocean as I escape from the water in a panic.

  Jon laughs at me.

  “There was something in the water,” I tell him urgently. “Get out, Jon.”

  “That was my foot, baby. I was trying to be sweet.” I sigh in relief, laughing a little. He moves my bag back to the center of the rock.

  “Oh.” I sit back down, but leave my feet up on the stone surface that’s been warmed by the sun. “Don’t try so hard.”

  He pulls one leg out of the water so he can face me better and drags his hand up my bare thigh. He massages one leg and kisses the opposite knee. When he looks up, he avows, “I’m going to make you go. And I’m going to make sure you know every day that I love you and am waiting for you.”

  I lean into him and kiss him on the lips. He pulls his hand from my leg and puts it behind my head, gently tugging on some strands of hair. “I’m going to hold you to it,” I whisper when he pulls away. I bring his head back to mine, and we kiss some more. I hear his other leg leave the water as he crawls closer toward me.

  A few people at the shoreline start to whistle, and I peek out of one eye to see them watching us on the verge of making out. I pull my skirt down to cover my thigh and tuck my head down, ending the kiss. “I think they might start taking pictures soon,” I joke with Jon. “And not because of who I am, but because of what I want to do to show you that I love you.” He laughs, too, helping me up and suggesting we go back to the beach. This time, we hold hands the whole way, providing support to each other as we leap over the gaps of water. My heart is racing by the time we make it to land. It could be the adrenaline again... or it could just be Jon.

  CHAPTER 17

  Toward the end of the week, Ariana holds an impromptu gathering with us and some of her friends. She has a lot of friends. Quite a few of them only speak Portuguese, and my two and a half months of studies have not prepared me for any real conversations. It’s very limiting, as I’m sure many of these people have very interesting things to say.

  For a few of them, other people translate our conversations for us. Jon has been talking to a couple of men dressed in nice suits for the past hour. I’d been introduced to them, but was whisked away to meet a girl who’d come to live here from Great Britain with her boyfriend. They are both a little bohemian, and have carefree attitudes towards life. Not at all what I expect from two English people, but I love the way they talk about things that have happened in their lives.

  “How did your parents take it when you dropped out of Oxford?” I ask Kora, who is just four years older than I am.

  “They were devastated,” she says. “Mum wanted me to be a doctor, but it didn’t interest me. Both of my brothers are, but the thought of being stuck in some sterile hospital environment all of my life was giving me a nervous breakdown. We came here three years ago on holiday. We went home once to get our things.”

  I stare at her, shocked. “You haven’t been back?”

  “Devastated and angry. They were never fans of Pierre.”

  “Why?”

  “They blame him for this. For our life here. They just don’t want to admit that their daughter can think for herself.”

  “It was her idea,” Pierre says. “I have my degree. It’s useless, but I have it. I’m a geneticist. That was my choice, but I lost interest after four years of uni.”

  “So what do you two do here?”

  “I play the violin. He plays the cello. We do a lot of beach weddings.”

  “How romantic!”

  “It’s a wonderful living,” Kora says. “What about your parents? I’m guessing they’re a little protective, traveling here with you?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “It would be my first time away, on my own, aside from college. That doesn’t really count, though. I’m two hours away from them at Yale.”

  “Are you following in their footsteps?” Pierre asks.

  “No, I’m forging my own way.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Mom’s a graphic designer. She does a bunch of contract work for magazines and publishing companies. Dad’s a technology consultant, although he’s pretty much retired by now.”

  “He looks good for retirement age,” Kora says.

  “He did well for himself. He made some good investments.” I’m so relieved they have no idea who he is. Jon walks up to us. “Hey, this is Kora and Pierre. This is my boyfriend, Jon.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jon says, shaking their hands.

  “Will he be coming with you this summer?”

  “No, he’s in school at Columbia.”

  “And I’ve got a
job with an architecture firm in Manhattan,” he explains. “I’ll be pretty busy, saving for our future.”

  I put my arm around his waist and lean into him, feeling his lips press against the top of my head.

  I get Jon caught up on Kora and Pierre’s adventure here. It feels like they’re meant to be together just like Jon and I are. I’m positive they’ll be good friends to have while I’m here. I’m also positive that seeing them together will make me miss Jon even more.

  Ariana interrupts us, asking me to follow her outside. We go into her studio, where she takes a seat at her workbench. I sit down nearby in an old wicker chair.

  “I’ve just spent the last hour making promises to your parents.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her.

  “Nonsense,” she says. “This is a big step. Maybe a bigger one for them than you, letting their firstborn fly the coop. They are worried, but I think I’ve convinced them that we will look after you like you’re our own daughter while you’re here with us. I’ll be a bossy mother, but I think you will get so much fulfillment out of this work, Livvy, that you’ll know that my schedules are only here to help you plan and keep on track. I know what it’s like to be a freelance artist. You can go for months without painting. This will teach you discipline. This will help you develop your craft even when you may not feel terribly inspired. Have you had those moments?”

  “At times, yes.”

  “Those moments can be career-ending to people like us. If you wish to make a living in this field, you have to learn to cultivate your craft under any circumstance. You’ll be amazed with the ways your mind works differently in difficult situations.”

  “I’ve seen that in practice,” I tell her. “I think my best work has come when I’ve been at odds with someone I love.”

  “That’s good that you can channel those emotions. And you’ll feel a little despair and longing when you’re away from Jon and your family. Those are good feelings to explore. But I think it’s most difficult on days when things are going just as expected. When things aren’t good, and they’re not bad... they just are. Those are the days I find it most difficult to come up with new ideas.”

  “I can see that.”

  “You’ll have those days here. But I can help you through them.”

  “Cool.”

  “I really think this partnership will benefit us both, Livvy. So what do you think?”

  Not a moment of consideration has come out of obligation to her for bringing my family and Jon here. My earlier fears have subsided, feeling assured by Jon that he will wait for me and want me back when I return at the end of the summer. “I’m in. All in.” There’s only a small bit of apprehension behind my definitive answer, but I’m confident it will subside once I get used to the idea.

  “You won’t regret this, Livvy.”

  “I know. Thank you so much for the opportunity. I am so excited to get started.”

  “Well, I know what our first project will be. If you want, we can go take some photos of the building tomorrow and you can take them back to the States with you and start working out some ideas. I don’t normally get that much lead time, but this client has asked for you, specifically, and they understand your time constraints.”

  “Really?” She nods at me, obviously proud. “I would love that.” She stands up, holding her hand out to negotiate our deal. I take it, shake it, but then hug her tightly, so grateful that she invited me here.

  When we rejoin the party, my parents are telling Jon goodnight and introducing themselves to my new friends on their way out.

  “Walk us to the car, Liv?” Mom asks. I lead the way, waiting on the front step as they say their final goodbye to our host and hostess.

  “Take good care of her,” I hear my dad tell her. By the time we make it to their car, my mom is already wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Mom, I’m not leaving for a few months. You can’t start crying already!” Seeing her like that makes me start to feel unsteady. I embrace her tightly. “And in six months, I’ll be back and this will all be behind us.”

  “It’s just the beginning,” she says.

  “Mom,” I plead with her to stop crying.

  “Poppet, don’t upset her,” Dad says, taking her from my arms and pulling her into his chest. He ruffles my hair and winks at me, bringing his hand down to wipe the one tear that escaped from my cheek. “I cannot wait to see what you do, Contessa. Will you let us fly down at the end of the summer to accompany you home? I’ll want to get pictures of your paintings.”

  “That would be great, Dad. And you guys can bring Trey.”

  “We can come before then, right?” Mom asks him.

  “Let’s play it by ear, Em. We’ll let Livvy invite us when she’s ready.”

  “Go back to the mainland,” I tell them. “Dad, go get Mom some wine and make sure she doesn’t spend her last night here crying.”

  “You have my word. I’ll pick you up around noon?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “See you, then. I love, you, Livvy.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  “Get back in there and enjoy your party.” I give him a quick hug before returning to the main house.

  We enjoy the company of Ariana’s friends for another hour or so before the long day catches up with me. Jon and I thank everyone for coming and excuse ourselves after saying our goodbyes. Kora and I exchange email addresses.

  “Did you have fun?” I ask Jon when we get back to the apartment.

  “I did. I learned a lot. Those guys work in sustainable urban planning in a city called Curitiba, in the next state. They’re trying to provide better options for the poorest people in the city. It’s apparently known for its slums. It’s pretty impressive, what they do.”

  “Cool,” I say. “I told her I’m coming,” I tell him quickly. I know he knew I was going to, but I sense he still wasn’t certain his assurances were enough.

  He forces a smile. “I know it’s the right decision for you, baby. I do. I support you. Even if I’m a little jealous.”

  “Jon, don’t be jealous... that’s silly.”

  “I didn’t say it made sense. I’m just telling you my feelings. You don’t need to respond any certain way. In fact, ‘Jon, just get over it’ might be your best course of action.”

  “Jon, just get over it,” I assert.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says with a nod as he falls onto the bed. “It’s our last night here,” he informs me, crossing his legs at his ankles and putting his arms behind his head. “What should we do?”

  “My vote is talk about your feelings some more,” I tell him as I kick off my shoes and climb onto the bed next to him, curling up in his side that feels like it was made for me. He pulls his hands down, putting one arm around me and pulling my leg across his body with the other.

  “You get to make all the decisions?” he asks.

  I glance up at him. “We’re getting good at compromises.”

  “Yes, we are,” he agrees, kissing me gently. We spend hours talking, first about his feelings, and then about our future together. I know the months here will be difficult for us at times, but the prospect of the rest of our lives together makes this brief interruption a little easier for both of us to handle.

  On our final day in Floripa, Jon has decided to do some sightseeing on his own. He knew I needed to have a private conversation with my father, so Dad and I go to one of the nearby beaches. I’d asked to talk to him alone, and Mom decided it would give her time to catch up on some work that she had been doing for a magazine. She didn’t ask any questions, and I was glad.

  I think any time Dad and I spend together is good in Mom’s eyes. I know she still feels like there are lingering after-effects from the fight Dad and I had a few years ago. Maybe she’s right. But I love my father, and I think he knows that my behavior back then was misguided and immature.

  We go to a cantina that sits a few feet from the ocean. He orders a scotch, sensing the weig
ht of the conversation I want to have with him. He’s always been pretty good about reading me, no matter how hard I try to hide things from him.

  “Do you want something?” he asks. “You’re legal here.”

  “But you guys told me I can’t drink.”

  “I’m offering to buy you one. Just don’t tell your mother.”

  “I guess I’ll have... um, do you have sangria?” I ask the bartender. He nods, turning around and quickly pouring me a glass of red liquid with fruit. “Thanks.”

  “So, be honest with me, how do you feel about all of this?” he asks me. “Do you like Florianópolis?”

  “I do,” I admit. “And Ariana has been so welcoming. I’m already learning from her. Daddy, I feel like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I have to do this.”

  He smiles and nods, but takes a long sip of his scotch. He’s silent for a few seconds, swishing around the ice cubes in the shallow glass. “I know you do,” he says. “It’s just so scary to think you’ll be so far away from us. What if there’s an emergency? An accident? The distance will be...” He sighs again. “I’m starting to sound like Emi,” he concedes. “You’re growing up. I guess we have to let go someday.”

  “Dad, it’s just for the summer. And if there’s an emergency, Ariana and Raphael will always be nearby. They’ll take care of me. They’ll contact you. But there won’t be an emergency. I won’t take any foolish risks. I’ll just be here to work. I saw the schedule. I’ll be very busy most weeks, and I’ll probably just need rest on the weekends.”

  “Do you think the stress of it is too much for you? Aside from school, you’ve never really had any demanding deadlines or clients to please. How do you think you’ll handle it?”

  I hold up my glass of sangria.

  “Not funny,” he says. “That’s the last thing I want you to tell me.”

  “Well, I don’t have to tell you. Dad, I’m teasing. I’m sure it isn’t going to be a walk in the park, but you’ll always be a phone call away. And yeah, I might call you crying because of the workload, or because I’m homesick, but I know just talking to you will make me feel better. It always does.”