Contessa

by Lori L. Otto

  “That’s what flowers and greeting cards are for.”

  “Those can never say what I want to say to her. And if that’s the way society as a whole feels, I can see why the divorce rate is so high. I’ve seen you and your wife together, and with all due respect, there’s more to that than–”

  “She is my wife! That’s the difference.”

  “I’d marry Olivia tomorrow.” He grasps my hand tightly.

  “You most certainly will not. She’s not equipped to make those decisions. She’s still in high school! If that threat’s going to be looming over us, I’ll keep her from seeing you altogether.”

  “I’m just trying to make you understand that I would do anything for her.”

  “Then wait for her.”

  Jon finally breaks his combative stare and relaxes his shoulders. He speaks softly. “What if we’re ready?” I let go of him and bury my head in my hands, feeling the tears forming in my eyes. I can’t believe they’re talking about this.

  “She’s sixteen. Wait for her.”

  When the room goes silent, I look up at my boyfriend first, then my dad. Jon is simply staring at him, who’s not blinking, and his teeth are clenched and nostrils are flaring.

  “You know, Jon, I can appreciate what you’ve said. I think you did an incredibly grown-up thing tonight by talking to me about this. You’re right, most boys Livvy sees would never dream of doing that. So, am I a little impressed? Yeah. Might I even consider you a man? Maybe.

  “But do you see that little girl standing next to you?” I turn my attention back to my dad, averting my eyes as he drives his point home. Jon shifts his stance, breaking his intense stare with Dad and glancing in my direction. I wipe tears from my eyes. “Do you see that girl who’s too embarrassed to look at us while we’re talking about this? The one who’s crying because we’re even having this conversation? Those aren’t the actions of an adult.

  “That’s my little girl. That’s who I’m trying to protect.”

  “Fair enough,” Jon says. “Thank you for your time.” He runs his hand down my arm lightly, finally taking my fingers in his. He swipes another tear away before he kisses me. I can feel the tension through his touch, and the kiss only lasts a few seconds. “I love you,” he whispers to me, letting go of me.

  “Jon,” I call after him as he walks toward the door. He’s left his gift behind, but doesn’t stop at the sound of his name.

  “I’ll take the bus,” he says, “and I’ll talk to you later.” He barely lifts his hand to wave. “Thank you,” he says to my dad before opening the door and walking out, shutting it carefully behind him.

  “I hate you!” I tell my dad as I pick up Jon’s messenger bag and go toward the basement. Sobs break out as I make my way down the stairs.

  “Livvy,” my mom says to me.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I tell her, slamming my bedroom door and burying my head in my pillow to hide the uncontrollable crying. I have every right to cry. It’s not Dad’s place to say whom I can and can’t love, and how I can express those emotions to Jon. If he wants to give me a ring, that’s his decision. If we want to sleep together, that’s our decision.

  I’m so mad I could scream!

  I roll over on the bed and stare at the angry painting on the opposite wall. Betrayal. That’s what I see in it now. I feel like I’ve been betrayed, and abandoned. And I’m completely misunderstood. And I hate him!

  If Nate was my father–the man who could convey these emotions so easily and readily in this painting–he would surely understand the feelings I have for Jon. He’d be happy that someone like Jon would love me. He’s an amazing boyfriend. He cares about me. He loves me completely. He’d do anything for me. Nate would totally get that. He felt that way about Mom.

  I take my tennis shoe and throw it against the door as hard as I can. If I could hit someone, I would.

  “Honey?” my mom calls from behind the door.

  “What?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Why?”

  “I just want to talk for a minute.”

  “I don’t feel like talking.”

  She cracks the door and peeks in. “You’re not going to throw anything else, are you?”

  I glare at her and simply shake my head.

  “Okay.” She walks in and shuts the door behind me, sitting next to me on the bed. “Let me see,” she says as she takes my left hand in hers. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I know,” I say, sniffling away more tears, intrigued by Mom’s interest in the gift that nearly brought the house down. “I love it.”

  “You love him,” she says plainly.

  “I do.”

  “I know you do, sweetie. Stop crying,” she says as she moves some hairs out of my eyes. “Tonight could have been so much worse,” she says with a tiny lilt to her voice.

  “How?” I laugh. “How could it have been worse? Dad made Jon so uncomfortable he had to leave.”

  “For awhile, I thought it was going to be the other way around. Jon held his own quite admirably. I heard the whole thing from the staircase.”

  “But Dad won.”

  “Were we listening to the same conversation unfold, Livvy? Your father did not win. I think Jon won that battle, fair and square.”

  “No, he didn’t. Dad threatened to keep me from seeing him.”

  “But it never got to that. Jon earned your dad’s respect tonight, honey. That’s what happened. Whatever words were exchanged were subsequent to the outcome. I think your dad was very impressed–with Jon. This isn’t about him anymore. This is about you.”

  “Why is it about me?”

  “Your brother hasn’t thrown a temper tantrum this bad since he was three and we made him leave the monkey exhibit at the zoo.”

  “That’s not fair, Mom,” I tell her. “I’m so angry and I don’t feel like I have any say in anything anymore! Why is dad involved in my relationship at all?!”

  “I’m pretty sure you can blame your boyfriend for that. This could have all been avoided if he’d just given that ring to you while it was just the two of you. You know your dad probably wouldn’t even take a second glance at it.”

  “He should have given it to me in private.”

  “But do you see what he did?” she asks. “He faced this whole thing head-on. He assumed your dad would find out, and he knew the battle you’d be up against. He took the brunt of it, not you. There’s no question about how much that boy likes you.”

  “Well Dad doesn’t see it.”

  “Sure he does, Livvy. He’s afraid of it.”

  “He’s an unfeeling robot!”

  “Whoa, honey,” my mom starts with a hint of a smile. “That’s the most inaccurate thing I’ve ever heard you say about your father.”

  “Well, he doesn’t understand what love is!”

  “I beg to differ, Liv. Your father is the most romantic, selfless man I have ever met.”

  “But Nate fell in love with you when he was sixteen. And he still loved you years and years later. He knew it, and he held back, and he waited, and in the end he only had months with you, when he could have had a lifetime! He knew what it was like to be my age and in love.”

  “Nate may have had feelings, but the kid I knew at sixteen wasn’t the same man I fell in love with at twenty-nine. We didn’t know who we were as individuals yet. We wouldn’t have worked. Just like your father and me. We would have never worked had we started dating in college. I was flighty and selfish, and he was completely ensconced in his business. I could tell you from that first kiss that he was someone special, but I think we would have messed things up. I think things happen for a reason, Livvy.

  “I can’t imagine my life any better than the way I’ve lived it, even with the tragedies I’ve had to face. It’s how it was supposed to be.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I couldn’t be happier than I am every day of my life, now. With your dad... we were meant to be together. To be in this world and to love one another and
to fight these battles to keep our kids safe and–”

  “Jon will keep me safe! He loves me!”

  “I don’t doubt that. I believe, one hundred percent, that you love him, and that he loves you. But when you start to learn more about yourself, you may feel differently about each other.”

  “Well, that’s for us to find out, isn’t it?”

  “We just want to help you. We want to keep you from making mistakes, that’s all.”

  “It’s not a mistake to be with him.”

  “Now that, Liv, I can’t say that I believe that one-hundred percent.”

  “Dad’s gotten to you,” I tell her. “You were on my side before.”

  “I’m always on your side, honey. It may not look like it to you, but I’m your biggest supporter, and I stick up for you a lot. And contrary to what you perceive to have happened tonight, your dad is a close second behind me. I can say with certainty that I think he’s undoubtedly the best father you could ask for. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help me raise you.”

  “Nate would have been better.”

  “I’m sorry?” The color drains from her face.

  My comeback is much less confident. “Well, he would have.”

  “No.” She laughs, but I can tell she’s not amused. “First of all, I don’t know why you’d even bring him up in this context–”

  “Because he was a lover,” I explain to her, using Granna’s word. “He’d understand two people being in love, which is something Dad will never understand.”

  “Right,” my mom says. “I’ll tell you right now, Olivia Sophia, if you ever bring Nate into a contest of who’s a better father, between him and Jacks, I will ground you for a month. Longer if you do it in front of your dad. You have no right.”

  She stands up and starts to walk out of my room. She opens the door and turns around, her expression one of disgust. “You never knew Nate. You don’t know him now, and you never will.” She shuts the door, leaving me to sob in my pillow once more.

  It’s a few hours before Jon finally calls.

  “Hey,” I whisper, my head pounding from all of the tears.

  “Olivia, have you been crying since I left?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighs heavily. “Don’t panic, Liv. That wasn’t so bad.”

  “Really?”

  “Has he said anything more to you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ban us from seeing each other?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then we haven’t lost anything at this point. And we know what we have to do.”

  “What is that?” I say, sniffling.

  “First of all, sweetie, you’ve got to stop crying. That’s what he’s talking about. He doesn’t see the adult in you like I do. He sees the little girl who didn’t get her way and is locked in her room, sobbing about it. Don’t let him see that. You can be upset, you can cry with me when we’re alone, but don’t let him see that anymore.

  “Do you think you can do that?”

  “I can try,” I tell him.

  “Okay. What time do you leave tomorrow?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “That’s in nine hours. You need to get some sleep.”

  “I know. I never thanked you, did I?”

  “Honestly, the whole thing’s a blur. I’m pretty sure I was discussing having sex with you with your father at some point, but I’m hoping that was just a horrible nightmare.”

  “If it was, I think we all had the same nightmare.”

  “I’m sorry, Olivia. I know I didn’t make things easier for you.”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him with a sigh. “I kind of feel like everything’s out in the open. I’m angry at him and really frustrated, but for some reason I feel a little less burdened. He kind of has to take it or leave it now.”

  “How’s your mom?”

  “I managed to piss her off royally.”

  “What’d you do? You guys don’t fight.”

  “Not typically. I don’t want to talk about it.” A lump starts to form in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I truly feel horrible, remembering her reaction about what I said. I never saw that coming.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” I barely squeak the word out.

  “If you change your mind, baby, you call me. My phone’s right here. I don’t care if you wake up my brothers, okay? And that’s a standing rule. Anytime.”

  “Thank you,” I say softly, trying to swallow but finding it painful and difficult. “And thank you, for the promise.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I promise the same,” I tell him.

  “I love you, Olivia Holland.”

  “I love you, too, Jon. I’ll call you when we get there tomorrow.”

  “Anytime,” he reiterates. “Try to have a good time. And no more tears. Show him you’re a grown up. You don’t need his approval but you’d like his blessing; that’s kind of how I’m thinking about things now. I’d never say it, but that’s my approach.”

  “Not bad,” I say.

  “Sweet dreams.”

  “No more nightmares,” I respond. He laughs and tells me good night.

  CHAPTER 10

  The house is unusually quiet as I get ready in the morning. I can feel the tension surrounding me, and I can’t imagine how this weekend with my family is going to be.

  “Livvy,” my dad calls from the top of the basement stairs.

  “Yeah?” I make my way out of my room, taking a deep breath. “What’s up?” I ask him.

  “These roses were on your car,” he says, holding a few flowers and a card out to me. I run up the stairs quickly when I notice he’s making no effort to bring them down.

  “They’re camellias,” I correct him. He shrugs his shoulders in response. “Thanks.” I take them and turn away, descending the stairs quietly.

  “What, now he’s mocking me?” he asks.

  I turn around, gripping the handrail tightly. “Hardly, Dad. He’s not that type of person. Stop trying to make him out to be some horrible guy. He’s not.”

  He nods. “Can you be ready in five minutes?”

  “I’m going with Mom,” I tell him, returning to my room.

  “She left with your brother an hour ago. She wanted to beat the traffic heading out of the city.”

  “Great,” I mumble.

  “Five minutes?”

  “Yep,” I say just loud enough for him to hear. My stomach tightens with anxiety. This weekend just got a whole lot worse. I hadn’t anticipated a two-hour car ride alone with my father. I had been plotting my apology to my mother all morning. I hadn’t prepared anything for Dad.

  Sitting down on the bed, I quickly scan the card Jon left.

  “Olivia,

  “Do me a favor this weekend: if you’re standing near another guy, please stay away from the mistletoe.

  “Have a Merry Christmas.

  “Love, Jon”

  I laugh out loud, holding the card close to my heart. I look down at my hand and admire the ring on my finger, remembering the moment he gave it to me. I try to forget how that moment was ruined not a minute later, but it’s hard to do. It just makes me angry again.

  Realizing I’m not finished packing, I grab the nearest bag, which happens to be the bag I had given to Jon last night. I toss the rest of my things haphazardly inside, and tuck the card and three of the flowers–a pink one, a white one and a red one–into the side pocket. Slinging the messenger bag and my own large duffel on my shoulders, I hit the lights and make my way upstairs. Only a handful of presents remain under the tree, the rest already packed away in one of the two cars we’re taking to the lake house.

  “Did you eat anything?” my dad asks, his coffee in hand.

  “Not hungry.”

  “I don’t want to make any stops.”

  “That’s fine.”

  He gets his keys out and holds the door open for me, locking it securely behind us.

  Afte
r an hour of talk radio, I can’t stand the tension anymore.

  “Are you not going to talk to me all weekend?” I ask him.

  “If I had any idea of something I could say to you that would make us all better again, I would have said it long ago. But I’m still not really sure what’s going on with you.”

  “Nothing, Dad,” I tell him softly. “I have a boyfriend. That’s it.”

  “It just seems like things are going so fast, Liv. My head was spinning last night. I couldn’t have prepared myself for that if your were twenty-one, much less the sixteen-year-old you are. Marriage? Were we really talking about marriage?”

  “We’re not getting married anytime soon, Dad. Neither of us want that yet.”

  “Well, he wants something,” he mumbles.

  “Daddy, I’m not ready, okay?” I realize my statement could be applied to the previous marriage conversation, but I think we both know I’m talking about sex. “And he knows I’m not. I think he just got caught up in the moment.”

  “He’s not pressuring you?”

  “Absolutely not, Dad. Never.”

  “I’ll tell you what, the kid has some nerve. He’s not afraid of anything, is he?”

  “He’s pretty afraid of you.”

  “Could have fooled me,” he says.

  “He respects you more than you can imagine, Dad. He looks up to you.”

  “I just don’t know how I feel about him,” he says honestly. “But then again, I’m not sure how I’d feel about any guy taking my little girl. I’m not ready to give you up yet.” He clears his throat. “I thought I’d be the only man in your life until you were at least thirty.”

  “Dad,” I retort, knowing he’s kidding, but knowing I need to take a stand. “I really do love him. I just wish you’d try to understand that.”

  “I’m trying, Tessa,” he sighs. I twist my ring around my finger nervously, waiting for him to say more. We drive about ten more miles before he speaks again. “I was Jon’s age, my first time. My girlfriend was your age. And I look back and think that–you know, I didn’t know a god damn thing at that age. What I felt for that girl was nothing compared to what I felt for other women, once I got older. And it certainly didn’t come anywhere close to what I felt for your mom, and still do, to this day.