by Lori L. Otto
“We’ve fallen asleep – on the couch!” she exclaims. “We did the same thing in Mykonos. We just slept together. As in the act of sleeping, Matty, that’s all.”
“Naked,” I say. “I saw Jon getting dressed.”
“You saw what when Jon was getting dressed?!” She looks mortified.
“Ass, Liv. He wasn’t facing us. He turned the lamp on before he pulled on his boxers. It got my attention. I didn’t stare. He’s yours, I get it.”
She glares at me with disapproval.
“But I’ve never met a guy who got naked in bed and didn’t screw around, you know? Is the kid a saint?”
“What? No, we…” I look at her curiously. “I mean, so we made out a little? And we weren’t fully clothed. No big deal. We didn’t go all the way.”
“Well. It’s none of my business.”
“But we didn’t, Matty. I swear. So there’s no real secret to keep. Except Mom and Dad probably shouldn’t know we slept in the same room. And they shouldn’t know about any nakedness. So there’s a little secret,” she rambles, “but it’s not the big one you think you have to keep.”
“Okay, okay. Like I said when we were there, what happens in Mykonos stays in Mykonos,” I remind her, then I suddenly start to consider Emi’s worry. “Livvy, did I do something wrong? Did I put you in a bad position that night? I just assumed it’s what you wanted.”
She swallows hard. “Matty, you didn’t do anything wrong. It certainly wasn’t the plan, but it’s what we wanted.” She nods her head convincingly. “We’ve never really had time alone like that, and it was just nice to be next to him, and not have to worry about anyone walking in on us kissing, or constantly checking the time so we made curfew. It was nice. I promise.”
I assumed they had planned to have sex that night. An overnight trip to Greece without parents? The fact that it wasn’t planned makes her assurance to me less convincing. If there was no forethought, no planning, then their actions were purely on impulse? Were they at all prepared? “You know… just asking the question, had anything happened but understanding nothing did, did Jon bring any protection? Because when I asked him, he kind of blew me off.”
She turns bright red and tries to force a smile. “Of course. But we didn’t need them.”
“Right,” I say, still feeling uncertain about my own decisions. “If I ever make incorrect assumptions, Liv, you’ll tell me, right?”
“Oh, God, Matty, now you’re starting to sound like Mom.”
“I’m not a parent, Liv. I don’t know how to do this right, so I’m allowed to ask questions.”
“You can’t ask a kid how to parent,” she says laughing.
“Because kids don’t make good parents,” I say, still watching carefully for her reaction. Her smile fades slowly as she understands my statement.
“They do not,” she finally says. “Not that I’ll ever have to find out.”
“Because you won’t be a parent, though, right?” I push for further clarification, now just asking to be funny. “And not because you don’t think you’re a kid anymore. Right?”
“I’m not a kid,” she responds simply. “And I will be a parent someday.”
I think she senses the heart attack she’s giving me, and relishes in the extreme discomfort of the moment. She’s a masochist, this kid. Or not-kid.
“But it will be at least seven years down the line, at this point.”
“More is better,” I say lightly. “No need to rush things.”
“Alright, alright, Matty. Are we good?”
“We’re good, Little Liv.”
HANDOUTS AND HANDCUFFS (JON)
Jack’s car pulls up beside me, but I don’t stop until I hear Livvy’s father talking to me. “Jon, please get in the car.”
“Absolutely not.” I start to move on.
“We need to have a talk.”
I stop in my tracks, turning to face him once more. “Yes, we do. But I’m not taking any more handouts from you, including a car ride.”
“That’s silly–”
“It’s the principle,” I tell him angrily. “I’m tired of it, Jack.”
“Maybe you can consider it the last one,” he says. I waver, but end up getting in the car. “Where are you off to?”
“I was going to go to my uncle’s in Queens.” Jack nods, and I give him directions to get there.
“I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” he starts.
“I don’t care what you think,” I interrupt. “This is my life.”
“No, it’s my daughter’s life, Jon. You forget that she’s the common link here. You decided to take things to the next level with her. You decided to make it that serious, when she’s still just a kid. The fact is, she’s still my child, and I want what’s best for her. I’m not going to back down because you don’t want my help… because this is her life, too, and I’ll do anything I can to make it better for her. Where she’s involved, I’m involved… at least until she’s eighteen and old enough to make these decisions on her own. Until then, I’ll make the right decisions for her.”
Helplessness overwhelms me. “With all due respect, Jack, your daughter is no average seventeen year old child. She is old enough to make these decisions.”
“That’s your opinion… which in most cases I do respect, but not this one. If you have learned anything about me in your young life, you know that I like to help in situations when I can. What surprises you about this one?”
“It’s just a complete waste!” I tell him, frustrated. “You might as well just roll your car window down and throw wads of cash out to the streets. It’s a better use of your money.”
“Your mother deserves a chance.”
“She’s had plenty in her life. She doesn’t want to change. I could have told you this and saved you some regret.”
“I have no regrets, Jon. Not with your mother, and you shouldn’t give up on her so easily. The fact is, she is a part of your life, whether you want her to be or not. And I am a part of Livvy’s life– whether you want me to be or not.”
“I can’t accept it,” I tell him. “Let me deal with my family. You have your own to worry about.”
“Jon,” he says with a slight laugh, “you’ve become part of this family. My daughter loves you. She talks about a future with you. I had two choices: fight that idea and ruin what I have with Livvy, or accept you as a part of her life. As I got to know you, there was really no reason to fight it. You’re a good kid. You love her. You treat her with respect. As a father, that’s what I want my children to find.”
“I just want her,” I explain to him. “And I appreciate the support you and Emi have given me in understanding my background and family situation, but you can’t continue giving my family money. I don’t want to be indebted to you. It’s too much of a burden.”
“You are not indebted to me–”
“But in my mind, I am. I’m not going to accept handouts from you anymore. I can manage my life on my own, and someday soon, I’ll be able to provide for myself.”
“And Livvy,” he intercedes. “Someday, you’ll be able to provide for yourself and my daughter. I look forward to that day, truly, but you’re not there yet.”
“Look around!” I argue. “I have everything I need right now, and I earned it all on my own.”
“Where are your brothers?” he asks me.
I stare at him, seething. “I’m not responsible for them at this point, Jack. They’re receiving the care their own mother can’t give them right now… but that has nothing to do with me.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see them more often? I mean, I was in your shoes when I made the decision to go to NYU. I knew my brothers needed me. I stayed close to home so I could still be a positive influence in their lives. I mean, you said yourself, you couldn’t leave Manhattan because of them. You chose Columbia for that very reason. And now they’re across the country, being raised by an aunt and once again, no father figure to influence their
development… where does that leave you?”
“Here!” I tell him. “Here with different priorities.”
“And that’s good enough?”
“It’s all I can do now, Jack.”
“Not if I can help… can you just set aside your pride for a minute and realize I’m doing this for you?”
“I don’t want you to!”
“Then I’m doing it for Livvy. Can you accept that?”
I sit quietly, realizing I can’t really argue that point. “Until she’s eighteen, right? Then what?”
“Then she can help make these decisions.”
“Well, if I’m part of the family, why can’t I help you make these decisions now?” I ask him sarcastically.
“Because Livvy will always come first, Jon. Always. And if your mother is going to be a part of her life, then I want her to have the chance to better herself. God forbid you have children one day and need to leave them in her care. I wouldn’t have it–”
“Children are not even in the distant future at this point, Jack.”
“And your mom has proven this isn’t going to be a quick and easy task, getting her better–”
“But when Liv’s eighteen, you’ll butt out?” I ask, seeing a sliver of hope. Olivia will legally be an adult in nine months.
“If she wants me to, I’ll have no choice. But if you think she wouldn’t do this on her own, you don’t know her. You don’t know how I’ve raised her. She stood behind my decision to help. She’d do it on her own a year from now. She’s not going to turn her back on your mother either… and I think she’d be disappointed in you if you did. I know I would be.”
Jack pulls up to my uncle’s house, putting the car in park and letting it idle. “I’d hate to disappoint her,” I finally tell him.
“So you agree this is the right thing? Letting us help your family?”
“No,” I tell him. “I won’t accept your help, or hers. And if that disappoints you– or her– so be it. This isn’t what I wanted from her.”
“It’s something you have to accept, though, Jon.”
“No, I don’t,” I argue. “If you can’t stay out of my life, I can stay out of yours.”
“What, you’d turn your back on Livvy to keep your pride in check?”
“To maintain my own dignity, yes. To live autonomously, yes. I can’t live my life feeling that I’m always owing you something.”
“You wouldn’t–”
“But I feel like I would, and that’s what matters.”
“Maybe I’ve misjudged you,” he says quietly. “If you plan to end this with Livvy, I ask that you do it sooner rather than later. Don’t drag this out. She deserves much better than that.”
“Yes, that’s something we can agree on. She deserves much more than I can give her.”
“That’s not what I said.” I open the door and step out of the car. “I really think you’re making a bad decision here, Jon,” Jack says, leaning over the center console before I can shut the door. “We all care about you.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, short, slamming the door closed.
THE NEXT DAY
“These amusement parks foster future oceanographers and scientists!” one of my classmates yells heatedly. “How will kids ever learn about whales and dolphins without SeaWorld?” It’s definitely been the most lively debate we’ve had in our ethics class this year.
“How will they learn that dolphins hunt together and find food by echolocation?” I counter angrily. “How will they learn that the true lifespan of an orca can be close to a eighty years, and not thirty-five years, as brainwashed tour guides will have you believe? How will they learn that orcas live their lives in matrilineal pods?” I ask, finally taking a breath. “The same way I did. Books. I’ve never been to a mammalian exploitation show in my entire life, but I know that they’re intelligent creatures, and are likely more evolved than we are, as humans. I know this from books. I know this from documentaries. I know this from the internet. I don’t have to swim with Flipper or dine with Shamu to have respect for and knowledge of these animals.”
“And that’s all we have time for today,” our professor interrupts. “Good discussion.”
“Good job, Jon,” the girl next to me says as she gathers her books. “I didn’t know I’d encounter people with that level of ignorance at Columbia,” she says, nodding to my debate opponent.
“Hopefully he’ll go back to his dorm and look up some things,” I tell her. “Have a good afternoon.”
“I’m Zooey.” She steps in front of me, blocking my passage from the row.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You wanna grab some coffee?” she asks.
“Maybe another day,” I respond. “I have some place to be.” I check my watch, wondering if Livvy’s made it to the loft yet.
“I’ll hold you to it,” she says, chipper. I nod politely, stepping past her. Before I exit the room, I look back at her. With her natural looks, worn canvas bag and khaki pants, she looks like the type of girl I belong with. She waves as I smile.
I love Livvy. I’ve been completely enamored with her for years. She’s always been the prize, not won, but earned as I’ve achieved the lofty goals I’ve set for myself. I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to leave her. I just need some time to figure out my own limits. Her concern and her parents’ concern cause them to be overly generous. I know they mean well, but it’s insulting. It insinuates that my family can’t take care of our own problems.
We can’t.
I don’t believe that. And maybe it’s not a matter of taking care of our problems. Maybe it’s just me letting go of the problematic things – and people – that are weighing me down.
Isn’t that the same as running away from adversity? That’s not what I’m about.
On the bus to the loft, I contemplate texting Livvy to let her know I’m coming. I read her last message to me, her frustration with me evident. I’d rather just get this over with quickly, cleanly. It’s awful to do it before her meeting, but it’s the only sure way to get her alone. It won’t be a complete surprise to her, I don’t think. She seems to know something’s coming. And it’s not like I’m breaking up… just asking for a break. Some time to think. Some time for her father to back off and let me and my family work things out on our own.
Once at the building on 5th Avenue, I wait until a group enters the lobby, and fall in line, keeping my eyes averted. Just as I think I’ve made it to the elevator unnoticed, the doorman taps me on the shoulder. I miss my opportunity to squeeze through the lift doors.
“Mr. Scott, is it?”
“I, um…“
“You can’t just walk into the building unescorted. You need to be with a tenant.”
“I’m just going up to see her.”
“But you can’t. Mr. Holland has instructed me–”
“I don’t care, Francisco. She’s expecting me. She’s here, right?”
“I’m not sure she is expecting you. She’s upstairs with her agent, and said she’d be right back down.”
“Abram’s with her?”
“Yes. You’re welcome to wait down here.” The elevators open and a few people exit. I seize the opportunity to get in, but Francisco makes it inside, too. I hit the 12 button as the doorman fumbles with his keys. He speaks into a microphone clipped to his collar. “Code Orange in elevator one.”
“Listen, I’m not planning on a lengthy visit. I just need to talk to her.”
“She would have told me you were coming if she was expecting you.”
“Why are you so worried about me? There’s a 25-year-old man up there with a minor. Would Mr. Holland really approve of that?”
“It’s fine. He’s her agent.”
Before I can dispute his innocuous claim and inform him that even a man with a professional relationship can still take advantage of a young girl, the elevator door opens, and I run toward her unit, knocking loudly as soon as I get there.
“Mr. Scot
t, you cannot go in there!” Francisco yells.
“Livvy, open up!” I knock once more before trying the handle. The door opens quickly. Both Olivia and Abram look surprised. He looks disheveled.
“Sir, you cannot be here,” Francisco says, sounding like a broken record. I see evidence of my girlfriend’s bright red lipstick on her agent’s mouth, and my stomach churns as I tune out the doorman, my mind busy processing the scene in front of me. Were they kissing?
“What’s going on, Liv?” I glance from her to her agent, and back to her, walking in slowly.
“It’s okay, Francisco,” Olivia says, but her expression says otherwise. She looks frightened. I open my arms to receive her, giving her support she’s in obvious need of by the grip her arms have around my torso. Still unsure of what’s going on, I don’t know how to react. I barely touch her. If she was kissing him, I’ll break up right this second. I struggle to breathe, feeling betrayed.
Francisco stutters some more warnings about Jack before Livvy cuts him off. “No, I know. We’re just leaving.”
“Is everything okay?” another voice asks from the door. I don’t turn to him, or listen to any ensuing conversation, my curiosity still piqued by the shifty eyes of my girlfriend’s agent. Something doesn’t feel right.
“Olivia, what happened here?” I feel my lips, not wanting to say the words out loud.
“He kissed me,” she says softly. I hold her arms still, gritting my teeth.
“Did you want him to?” I can’t break away from the accusatory stare. I hate that man. I think I see Livvy shake her head. “Did you kiss him back?”
“No!” she says quickly. Enraged, I cross the room and hit Abram without even thinking. I hadn’t planned the violent outburst, but I couldn’t stop it, either. I hit him harder than I thought I could. He barely catches himself with his forearm before smashing against the floor. He struggles to his feet, looking even more surprised than he did when we first walked into the room.
Shocked at my own power, I stay still, allowing the security guard to slip handcuffs on my wrists. I hope he can see the hate I have for him.
