Livvy

by Lori L. Otto

  “I know,” I agree smugly.

  “This is the street art class, I presume?” He holds up another photo of a building he knows well. “What was the assignment?”

  “Take a picture of a place in New York that has special meaning for you, and adorn it to convey why it’s special.”

  “Your mom would murder you if you did this to Nate’s Art Room.”

  “Actually, when she saw it in the gallery tonight, she teared up and said it was beautiful. She was happy it represented love to me, because that’s all she feels when she’s in there.”

  “That had to make your dad feel weird.”

  “Not one bit. It was a selfless act of love from him that allowed the place to exist in the first place.”

  “I didn’t know that. I always assumed Donna had it built.”

  I shake my head, studying the flowing strokes I had superimposed on the windows of the Art Room. “It was my dad’s idea. Donna helped, but it was his wedding gift to my mother. They got married in the gallery on the second floor.”

  “What a beautiful gift. And to think that something your dad envisioned and brought to life is the sole reason we met.” He laughs. “He must curse himself daily.” I laugh with him.

  “He’s happy now, I’m sure. Maybe he wasn’t two years ago, but now...”

  “What’s this?” Jon points to a large black and white photo of an eight-floor building that is tacked to a pin board. I had taken it in Floripa.

  “That’s my first assignment from Ariana. It used to be a hospital, but now it’s tenement housing for low-income families.”

  “What a great building. Those angles... you can do so much with that.”

  “I know.” I pick up a piece of tracing paper from beneath the photos and align it with the large print on the wall. Jon helps me place pins in the corners. “This is what I’m thinking,” I tell him, letting him study the graphite sketch I’d been working on. Instead of looking at the work, I watch a wondrous smile grow across his face. He puts his glasses back on and takes a few steps back.

  “I never would have thought of such a thing,” he says, touching the stubble on his chin. “It’s going to be extraordinary.”

  “But wait,” I say, harkening back to memories of late night infomercials I’d heard outside my bedroom door for many years in Manhattan, “there’s more!”

  Jon chuckles, waiting for me to pull out a second piece of tracing paper. He quickly helps me pin this one up, too, but moves back once more in awe. We can barely see the photo of the building through it now, but the colors I’ve added with pencils show the unique structure, maintaining the integrity of the old rocks and crumbling bricks with masterful shading, blending and cross-hatching.

  His jaw drops, but his smile doesn’t lessen. His eyes dance around, looking at all the different elements. “Olivia,” he whispers, then swallows. “What have you done?”

  “Do you think she’ll like it?”

  “No. I think it will blow her mind. Do you have the side?” he asks excitedly. I place a picture of the exposed right side of the building on my drafting table, and lay another colored drawing on top of it. “Brilliant, baby,” he says, outlining a tall figure with his finger. “That’s so clever... and remarkable. You’ve taken its history and incorporated it so adeptly.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, happy with his response to it. It’s exactly what I’d been hoping for.

  “Oh, yes. Are you going to do your black outlines?” he asks.

  “I thought about it, but what do you think about this?” I hold up a thick, white sheet of drawing paper, which I’ve expertly cut to produce a special effect in a few key places.

  “Shit,” he says, looking at me this time, his eyes still full of wonderment. From that response, I know I’ve surprised him with the new element. “Brilliant. White. Of course. It’s crisp and clean and brings a certain purity to the whole thing. Gorgeous, baby.” He holds his arms open, and I walk over to him modestly to accept his hug. “You are meant to do this,” he says with confidence as he holds me. “This is your destiny, baby.”

  I start to cry, and try to hide the tears from him. I don’t want to leave him here. He understands my art. He appreciates my choices. He asks me important questions about it. He gives me assurance when I’ve made the right decisions, even when I question them.

  “What’s wrong, Liv?”

  “I don’t want to go without you,” I admit, my voice squeaking just before I release the sobs.

  “Oh, baby,” he whispers softly, running his hands up and down my back. “You’ve got this! You did all of this without me.”

  “No, I didn’t. I felt you with me through all of it.”

  “Well, I wasn’t physically here, so that just proves my point. You’re going to do an extraordinary job there. You don’t need me there with you.”

  “I know I don’t need you, but I want you. I want to talk about things with you. I want to get your opinion. I want it to be like it used to be in the art room, when we could create together. My favorite pieces back then were the ones we collaborated on.”

  “Livvy? We spent so many years doing that. You already know everything I would recommend or suggest. You’ve put all of that into use already. I taught you how to do that,” he says, releasing me, turning me around and pointing to an area I’d smudged with my finger. “Done. Added to your repertoire. And your sensibilities to the surrounding area? That probably comes from hours of me boring you with such conversations. But you did this. All of it. And I’ll tell you right now, there’s not a damn thing I’d suggest you change. Nothing. It’s already far beyond anything I could have dreamed up. Anything I’d suggest would certainly take away from this... this... magnum opus.”

  “Jon,” I say shyly.

  “And I’m not here to do that. I’m here to marvel in what you do. Our little collaborations have become a part of what you do alone, baby. And I’m proud I was a part of that, but it’s no longer the role I play.”

  “But you knew something was missing,” I argue with him. “You asked about the black outlines.”

  “But you caught that long before I did... you had a creative response that was far more thoughtful and synergistic than what I was thinking.”

  “It would be nice to talk to you about it, though.”

  “You can, anytime. You can call me.”

  “It’s not the same, Jon.”

  He stands behind me and puts his arms around me, then kisses the top of my head. “Even if I was there, I wouldn’t be on that scaffolding with you. So if you were eight stories up, you’d have to call me from there, too,” he teases me. “Just imagine me there at street level. You have a good imagination.”

  I jab him playfully in his abs.

  He breathes out, overreacting to my response, and turns me to face him again. He reaches up and turns off the lamp, our only real source of light. After blinking a few times, my eyes begin to adjust to the moonlight, and I can see his face looking down at me just before he kisses me. His hands cradle my face, holding it loosely, close to his. I mimic his stance, following his lead and kissing him just as tenderly.

  “I’m always closer than you think, okay?” he whispers. “When you can physically see me, and when you can’t. Just close your eyes, and I’ll be there.”

  “That’s a really sweet thought,” I tell him.

  “I’m a really sweet guy,” he returns. And he is. I put my arms back around him and hug him again. “Did you want to start heading over to the hotel? I think Finn was going to take Katrina to a restaurant across from it. We could join them. I haven’t eaten.”

  “Yeah. I’ll see if Rachelle and Dmitri want to come, too. Something tells me they’re already shacking up in our dorm since we’re gone for the night.”

  “Can’t blame them,” Jon says, kissing me once more before leading me out of the dark studio. “You should have heard Finn the whole way here,” he laughs while I send a text to my other roommate. “It’s like this is his first time
ever, not just with her. He’s so nervous.”

  “Really?” I ask him.

  “He really likes Katrina,” Jon says. “The boy’s smitten.”

  “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

  “He’s not such a bad guy,” Jon contends. “I heard he hit on some highly desirable girl once, but I don’t know the details,” he lies. “And I don’t want to. I’m just glad my girl’s only got eyes for me.”

  He holds the door once more for me, but I stop in the entryway and smile up at him. “Speaking of smitten,” I say, feeling completely immersed by his love tonight. “Thank you for being such a wonderful man, Jon.”

  “Oh, Liv,” he says, leaning into me and kissing me again. “Thank you for being the only woman in the world to me. My existence would be desolate and abject without you. It’s a life I wouldn’t enjoy.”

  “Well, then how will you survive the summer without me?” I ask him, purposefully misinterpreting his proclamation and compliment.

  “I’ll find a way,” he says dramatically, putting his arm around me and walking toward the hotel we’ll be staying in for the night.

  CHAPTER 19

  I set my phone down on my desk a little more forcefully than I intend to.

  “What’s wrong, Livvy?” Katrina asks.

  “I can’t get ahold of anyone at home. My parents don’t answer any of their phones. Jon isn’t answering. My uncle can’t find anyone, either. I’m starting to worry.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine, Liv. Maybe Jon’s in the studio.”

  “He doesn’t work there very often anymore. He’s usually at the loft.”

  “Usually,” Rachelle says, “but not always. Maybe he’s got a group project or something.”

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “And didn’t you say your mom’s birthday is today?”

  “It’s tomorrow,” I correct her.

  “Well, maybe they went out to celebrate early.”

  “Then Matty would be there,” I explain logically.

  “Maybe the War of the Worlds finally came true,” Katrina says, grinning at me smugly.

  “Funny.”

  “Come study with us. If you ace this quiz, you don’t have to take the final, remember?”

  I sigh, but grab my World History book and sit next to Rachelle on the floor of our dorm room. I glance at the page number and catch up to the point they’d left off. I’m not worried about this test at all, but the distraction is needed tonight.

  An hour later, Jon finally calls. “Where have you been?” I ask him. “I was worried.”

  “I was at–” A beep notifies me of another call.

  “Hold on.” I switch lines to answer my parents’ call. “Where have you been?” I ask them the same question.

  “We were out back,” my father says. “Planting some flowers. It’s been misting on and off this evening, so we left our phones inside.”

  “You guys scared me,” I tell them with a sigh.

  “Well, we’re sorry, Liv. We’re fine. Did you need something?”

  “I was just checking to see if we were still on for tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, you’re picking up my mother, correct?” he asks.

  “Yes. I promise I’ll drive slowly for Grandma Holland.”

  “Tell Grandpa to take his pills with him to the lake,” he says.

  “I will. We should be home by six-thirty,” I inform them. “I’ll drop her off and then go pick up Jon. We can meet you at the restaurant. Is that okay?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Okay, I have to go. Jon’s on the other line.”

  “Alright, Tessa. See you tomorrow.”

  I click back over. “Sorry, I couldn’t get ahold of my parents, either. You were at school?”

  “Um, yeah,” he says, sounding distracted. “At the library, actually. Looking through some archives. You know how they feel about phones.”

  “Okay,” I say. “How was your day?”

  “Really good,” he tells me.

  “Why?”

  “Just... just because.”

  “Because...”

  “I don’t know, Liv,” he says with an obvious smile. “I just figured some things out today.”

  “Things I can’t know?”

  “Things you will know. In time.”

  “Jon!” I plead. “What?”

  “Olivia,” he says calmly. “Don’t be petulant.”

  “Petulant?” I ask, not offended, but surprised he’d call me that. I mean, I guess I am. “Fine. I didn’t want to know anyway.”

  “Good. I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “I’ll get it out of you this weekend.”

  “I don’t think you will.”

  “You underestimate me.”

  “You underestimate me. By the way, I have to meet with a study group late Saturday morning for a few hours. Is that okay?”

  “That’s fine. We were invited to have brunch with Grandma and Dad at the Ritz. More Belgian waffles for me.”

  “That’s right, Grandma Holland’s coming home with you tomorrow.”

  “Did I tell you that?” I ask him. “I didn’t know I told you. But yeah.”

  “Well, I think you mentioned she’d be at your mom’s dinner tomorrow night, so I just assumed.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Okay,” he says softly. “I’ve got some more homework to do.”

  “I’ll see you in... twenty-two hours or so.”

  “Can’t wait, baby.”

  “Love you.” I hang up the phone and pull my hand up to my necklace.

  “Can you stop with the giddy smile and help us with this chapter?” Rachelle asks.

  “Sure, I’m coming. But the giddy smile’s coming with me.”

  Saturday morning, neither Jon nor I want to leave the loft. It took me an hour just to get dressed, with him pulling me back to bed with him.

  “Why are you so affectionate today?” I ask him, laughing with him as I sit astride him. I’m in my jeans and layered tank tops, but he’s still in his boxers, completely unmotivated to put anything more on.

  “I just want to make as many memories with you as possible. That’s all.”

  “Oh, see, when you’re sweet like that, it makes me really not want to go.” I start to take my shirts off, but he stops me. “But... I thought you wanted that. You’ve been pestering me all morning!”

  “Pestering?” he says, acting like he’s offended. “This pesters you?”

  “No, never. Nudging me in that direction. That’s what I meant to say.”

  “I know, but you waited too long to give in, baby. I have to meet my group in fifteen minutes. And you have to meet your dad then, too.”

  “So you’re going to leave me like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Frustrated?” I say to him, raising my eyebrows to make sure he understands my meaning.

  “Like you haven’t done that to me hundreds of times.”

  “Yes, but that was before we’d had sex. And, you know, at my house, when we can’t.”

  “The circumstances don’t matter. It’s the fact that you have at all.”

  I put my hands on his shoulders, leaning into him. “So this is revenge?”

  He chuckles a little, then surprises me by using his strength to roll on top of me. “No, but this is,” he says, unbuttoning my jeans, then unzipping them, and yanking them down mid-thigh. He drags the hem of my panties down a few inches and kisses the skin beneath my belly button softly. I start to kick my jeans off, but he moves his hands to my knees, stilling me.

  “Really?” I plead with him.

  “Really,” he answers, putting my underwear back in place and attempting to pull my jeans back up over my hips. They’re tight, so I have to work against my instincts and pull them back up for him.

  “I’ll hurry back,” I tell him. “Can you study quickly?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Perfect.” I fasten my jeans and squir
m away from him, giving him one last kiss before leaving him on the bed. “Two hours, tops.”

  “Baby, I don’t know if–”

  “Don’t keep me waiting. Please?”

  “I’ll try, Liv.”

  “Try hard.”

  “Livvy, I didn’t get to hear much about your trip last night at dinner,” Grandma Holland says after we each get a plate of food from the buffet. “Can you tell me what you’ll be doing?”

  “Sure. There are communities down in and around Floripa–”

  “That’s Florianópolis,” Dad cuts in.

  “Right. There are artists and builders that are trying to brighten up their surroundings. Some are undergoing significant revitalization, and others just want some artwork to distinguish their buildings from others. I’ll be working with this well-known artist, helping her with a few of her projects and working on a few of my own, as well.”

  “So this is artwork for inside the buildings?” she asks.

  “No, Grandma. Outside. It’s called street art.”

  “Like graffiti?” she asks, not understanding.

  “Kind of like graffiti, but I won’t be, like, tagging.” She looks at me strangely.

  “Livvy won’t be out in the middle of the night spray-painting her name or gang signs on overpasses, Mom.”

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “I guess... think of it like billboards here in the city.”

  “So you’ll be painting advertisements?”

  “No, I’ll be painting my own designs. Just really large versions of my artwork.”

  “How large?”

  “Building-size,” I explain.

  “Good heavens, how will you do that?”

  “They have equipment.” I don’t bother telling her the specifics, already seeing the worry on her face. “I’ll have people helping me, working under my instruction, and there will be a trazillion safety measures in place, Grandma. Dad checked them out.”

  “I wouldn’t let her go if I thought she’d be in danger. Ariana, the woman she’s working for, she’s been doing this for, what, eight years?”

  “Something like that,” I agree.

  “Is this, like, when they clean windows in Manhattan on the scaffolding?”