Idle Bloom

by Jewel E. Ann

  She releases a heavy sigh. “Rosenberg is my dog. I was supposed to bring him with me when I moved to Cambridge, but I couldn’t have him at Alex’s since I wasn’t living there, so to speak, and my parents have been asking for the past two years when I’m going to take him. My dad’s threatened to drop him off at the local shelter and I don’t think he really would, but some days I’m not so sure.”

  She’s not giving me a press release. When we picked Rosenberg up two weeks ago I had this feeling he wouldn’t be returning home. It may have been the two thirty-pound bags of dog food, or all three of his little beds, or the large basket filled with every toy he owns that filled my car. Regardless, there were red flags everywhere and I’m not as stupid as Vivian apparently thinks I am.

  “So he’s staying here?”

  She nods.

  “Indefinitely?”

  Another nod.

  “So you live with Alex and Rosenberg lives with me?”

  Shrug. Pause. And finally … another nod.

  I turn back around and start chopping lettuce for the salad. “Well, then it’s a good thing that my parents are the ones coming for dinner and not yours.”

  “Oliver Konrad!” Her voice shrieks behind me. “You tricked me, set me up just to watch me squirm.”

  “Wow, it must feel maddening to have someone trick you into something. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

  Vivian smacks my ass.

  “Damn, woman! You’re always asking for it.” I set the knife down and lunge for her. She squeals and runs into the living room. The only thing separating us is the couch with her fluff ball on it yippity-yapping.

  “It was just a joke. I was being playful.”

  Her plea for leniency falls on deaf ears. “I know. I like jokes, and I like to play too.”

  Vivian’s eyes dart from left to right. It’s a fun cat and mouse game. I’m toying with her because she has no idea that I could hurdle this couch and have her pinned to the floor before she could so much as blink.

  “You’re burning the bread!”

  I look behind me and she Carl Lewises her way around to the entry. I’m on her tail, chastising myself for being so gullible with her burning-bread decoy.

  “Oli!” she screams just as the doorbell rings. Leaping toward the door, she opens it and squeezes outside hiding behind my unsuspecting parents. They look at each other then at me.

  “Mouse in the house?”

  “Not a mouse! Oliver’s trying to spank me.”

  Oh, for the love of Pete! Why is she always sharing this information with my parents?

  “Oliver.” My dad cocks his head to the side while my mom purses her lips to control her grin.

  They step inside, still shielding Vivian from me. “This is odd behavior considering we never spanked you when you were a child.” My mom puts her arm around Vivian.

  I squint at Vivian wearing her smirky face, all huddled into my mom. “I have to finish up with dinner. Help yourselves to some wine or beer.”

  “When did you get a dog?” my dad asks.

  “I didn’t. In fact, I’m not sure why he’s here. Some sort of squatter, I guess.”

  “Rosenberg is my dog.” Vivian scoops him up and nuzzles her nose into his fur. “He came for a visit and when I saw how Oli took an instant liking to him, I didn’t have the heart to send him back to my parents’.”

  My dad rests his hand on my shoulder while I cut the lasagna. “Funny, I didn’t realize you were a dog fan.”

  I give him a sideways glance. “Funny, neither did I.”

  I don’t know if my dad knows what it means to be pussy-whipped, but whether he knows it or not, it’s what his grin says.

  Dinner is filled with light conversation, good food—thanks to yours truly—and sexy glances between me and Vivian. Banter is our foreplay. The sassier she gets, the more I want to thrust her on the counter, spread her wide, and indulge in her body until she’s screaming my name. At least that’s tonight’s fantasy keeping me semi-erect throughout dinner.

  “Thanks for bringing the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler. It’s my favorite.” Vivian winks at my mom as she takes a bite then pulls the spoon across her lips with slow seduction. I’m fully erect now.

  “When do classes start?” My dad changes the subject, probably because her sensuality with the spoon doesn’t go unnoticed by him either. After all, he’s still a guy.

  “Ten days and I’m so excited!”

  “She already has her bag packed.” I squeeze her leg under the table.

  “What can I say? I’ve always loved school. I was the girl who got the perfect attendance award at the end of the year. I was student body president, on student council, the yearbook team, and all the fundraisers I helped organize raised the most money.”

  “I’m in love with a financial geek.”

  Vivian elbows me and my parents laugh. “I’m not a geek…” she shrugs and takes another bite of her cobbler “…okay, I might be a little geeky.”

  “Well, we look forward to watching you blossom.” My mom reaches across the table and squeezes Vivian’s hand.

  I can speak from experience. Watching my girl known as, Flower, bloom in my presence has been life changing.

  *

  Vivian

  Four days. I’m giddy with excitement. Alex and Sean think I’m crazy, but they’ve been enjoying the college life for two years. They’re the Disney World employees just showing up for another day’s work. I’m the five-year-old waiting in line for the gates to open to the Magic Kingdom.

  “How are the bachelorette party plans coming along?” Sean asks while lying on the floor with Rosenberg snuggled onto his chest.

  “Why? Are you jealous that Alex is going to have a kick-ass party while Kai, at best, pays for a skanky stripper old enough to be your mom to jiggle her wrinkled cleavage in your face while porn plays in the background, and he serves you and your friends warm beer from a keg?”

  I’d like to say that Kai and I are being amicable about being the best man and maid of honor, but we’re not. It’s turning into the War of the Roses – Wedding Edition and the wedding is still five months away.

  “For your information we’re going to Atlantic City.”

  “Yep … that has class written all over it.”

  “Do I need to separate you two?” Alex calls from the kitchen. She’s agreed to bake her cookies and banana bread at Oliver’s so he and I can savor the smell for the evening. Admittedly, it’s an odd request, but Alex is used to my quirky ideas.

  “When is Oliver going to be here?”

  “Soon, so finish up and get out.”

  “I love you too, Flower.”

  Okay, it’s not just the bakery-fresh aroma. I want to make Oliver think I’ve been the one baking up a storm.

  “How much of this am I leaving behind?”

  “Full batches and loaves. If you leave six cookies and half a loaf it’s not going to be believable.”

  “So, Oliver digs your deception?” Sean smirks at me.

  “I’m not cheating or stealing … I’m just making myself more appealing for one evening. He cooks all the time and I’m quite certain both he and his family think I lack in domestic skills—”

  “Because you do.” Alex laughs.

  “Because I didn’t waste my time in school taking frivolous classes like home ec.”

  “I think it’s called family and consumer science now.”

  “Shut up, Sean.” Alex and I both chime together.

  “I didn’t learn how to cook in school.”

  “I know, Alex, your mom taught you. My mom didn’t have time to teach me when I was younger.”

  “That’s why I’m here for you, Flower.” Alex hugs me and takes off her apron. “I’m leaving you with the mess, that should make it more believable.”

  “Thanks, I owe you one … for a change.”

  “True.” Alex blows me a kiss as her and Sean leave.

  I take my time cleaning up the k
itchen and just as planned, Oliver walks in while I’m in the middle of doing dishes.

  “Wow! Something smells delicious.” He slips off his boots and washes his hands in the hall bathroom.

  “You’re a mess.” I grin, looking at his ripped jeans covered in dirt and his gray T-shirt that looks more like a deep charcoal.

  “I am. We worked hard today.” He kisses my cheek and grabs a cookie off the cooling rack. “Mmm … so good.”

  “You like?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? They’re amazing!”

  I bite my lip to keep from grinning too big. Oliver presses his body to my back, sliding his hands over my hips and around to my front, fisting my skirt while drawing it up my legs.

  “You need a shower, babe. You’re all sweaty and dirty.”

  “Mmm … maybe when you’re done with these dishes you can wash me.”

  “Maybe you should think about rewarding the baker.”

  He kisses my neck and presses his erection into me even harder. “I don’t think Sean would like that.”

  “What?” I grab the towel and turn around.

  Oliver has already undressed me with his eyes and my body begins to feel naked under his hungry gaze. He kneels in front of me and slides his hands up my bare legs.

  “What does this have to do with Sean?”

  He pulls my panties down my legs while wetting his lips. I’m wet too, but I also want answers.

  “Well, you said I should reward the baker, and the tone of your voice implied something naughty. I imagine Sean would be pretty pissed if I tried something like that with Alex.” He starts to push my skirt up my legs.

  I grab his hands. “Why do you think Alex is the baker?”

  He laughs and kisses my hand, running his tongue up to my wrist. “Because she texted me to tell me I have shitty cookie sheets.”

  “Damn her!”

  Oliver chuckles. “But I’ll give you an E for effort.”

  I glare at him, but he continues to move up my legs. “Or instead of an E, I could give you an O.” His mouth covers my sex and his tongue teases my clitoris.

  “Oh God …” I close my eyes and clench my fingers in his hair.

  *

  O’s are so much better than E’s. If that makes me sound like a vowel snob, then so be it. I received my hard earned O in the kitchen, and Oliver received his in the shower. The cookies and banana bread were probably unnecessary. Lately Oliver has been coming home ready and eager to devour me with barely so much as a hello. I’m not complaining, but I wish he’d put some of that energy and love for me into himself.

  He still hasn’t mentioned or made an effort to deal with the room upstairs. I haven’t brought it up either. As with everything, I’m trying to let him do it on his own time. Apparently my promise to move back in with him when he does deal with it, is not the incentive I’d hoped it would be. Disappointing? Very.

  “We should get some dinner before we go into a sugar coma.” Oliver suggests as we finish off the first loaf of banana bread.

  “Well, I’m exhausted from baking all day…” I wink and grin “…so maybe we should go out for dinner.”

  “Indian?”

  “You read my mind, Mr. Konrad.”

  “Grab your shoes. I’ll go throw on a shirt.” He kisses me then heads upstairs.

  “Bye, Rosenberg. Be a good boy for Mommy.” I kiss him and shove my feet into my pink Nikes.

  The doorbell rings just as I sling my purse over my shoulder.

  I open the door to a man and a woman, maybe in their mid-fifties, staring at me with inscrutable faces. She smooths her shoulder-length auburn hair like it’s a nervous habit. His forehead below his peppered buzz cut wrinkles with what can only be confusion.

  “Can I help you?”

  They look at each other and then back at me. “Does Oliver Konrad live here?” he asks.

  “Yes. He’s upstairs. Can I tell him who’s here to see him?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  My body tenses and an eerie tingle runs along my spine from the iciness of Oliver’s voice.

  “We just want to talk, Oliver,” the woman says with a soft shaky voice.

  “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “We do,” the man replies.

  It seems improbable that this could feel any more awkward.

  “You must be Vivian?”

  I look at the woman and nod as Oliver wraps a possessive arm around me. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m at a disadvantage here.”

  “Sorry, Jackie told me about you. She said you and Oliver are really happy together.”

  “Um, yes, we are.” If Oliver’s mom told this lady about us, I assume she’s a relative or family friend.

  “I’m Lily and this is my husband, Doug. We’re Caroline’s parents.”

  Oliver’s grip on me intensifies. I’m not sure if he’s trying to hold me or himself together.

  “Oh, wow, I thought you lived in Portland.”

  “We do. We flew out here to talk to Oliver.”

  I look up at Oliver. His jaw pulses as he keeps his death glare on them.

  “Well, come in.” I step aside, feeling a slight resistance from Oliver’s body against mine.

  “Thank you.” They make their way to the living room.

  “I’ll be over…” I motion with my head in the direction of Alex’s “…if you need me.”

  “I think it would be best for you to stay,” Doug calls from the couch. “This now involves you too.”

  Oliver shakes his head and nudges me toward the door.

  “Maybe I should stay, then?”

  “No.”

  “Oli—”

  “There’s nothing they have to say that you need to hear.”

  “We need you to come back to Portland.” Doug’s voice makes Oliver’s body shake with anger.

  “I think I’m staying,” I whisper and walk past Oliver to sit on the love seat adjacent to the couch where Doug and Lily sit.

  Oliver lumbers into the room and sits next to me. He’s seething with rage and I’m sure my decision to stay isn’t helping the situation. He takes my hand. I squeeze it tight hoping what little strength I have left after Doug’s comment will transfer to Oliver. I have this sick feeling he’s going to need it more than me.

  “Caroline has been asking about you.” Doug continues. “Lily and I tried to explain that you’ve filed for divorce, but she’s in denial. Then we told her that you moved back here and since then she’s tried to commit suicide again. She said if she loses you too, then she has nothing to live for.”

  I wish I could read Oliver’s mind. We’ve never discussed his feelings for Caroline. What does hearing this do to him? I remember the night he shattered his phone and now I wonder if it was a call about Caroline that set him off.

  “You do realize she’ll probably never see the outside of that facility again, right?”

  “Yes, we know it’s a long shot, Oliver, but we’re her parents and you’re her—”

  “Nothing. I’m her nothing. Husband, only by law, but that won’t be for long.”

  Doug nods and Lily wipes a few tears. “Before you left they had started to reduce her meds. The doctors were optimistic that she might make a recovery given enough time. Now she’s…” Doug’s eyes start to fill with tears “…she’s a shell, an empty vessel and … we just want our daughter back.”

  Oliver releases my hand then rests his elbows on his knees with his head bowed into his hands. “I don’t know what this has to do with me.”

  “She needs you!” Lily’s kept emotions burst with a desperate plea.

  Doug hugs her to him and strokes her back. “We think she’ll come back around, at least to the daughter we recognize, if you’re there. If she thinks you haven’t abandoned her, she might find the will to do the therapy again, and start interacting with others. She might find … the will to live.”

  “I can’t … I … won’t.”

  “Oli
ver, please! Once she’s doing better we’ll be able to explain to her that your marriage is over and she’ll be better equipped to handle it if you give her some sort of closure instead of just abandoning her. Can’t you do this for her? For us? For … Melanie?”

  I feel Oliver’s rage a split second before it erupts. “Get the fuck out of here! Don’t you dare ask me to help Caroline for my dead daughter’s sake! She suffocated her with a pillow! Do you get that? A two month-old baby, killed by her own mother! Why in God’s name would I try to help Caroline now if I didn’t want to help her then?”

  Oliver’s words are a brutal slap to Doug and Lily. Their faces contort into painful grimaces.

  Oliver stands and paces the floor with his hands on his hips. “That day … when I found her … my biggest regret was calling 9-1-1. You don’t know how bad I wanted to take the knife that was in her bloodied, limp hand and shove it into her ruthless heart.”

  Lily sobs as Doug helps her to her feet. He opens the front door and turns. “I don’t even recognize you, Oliver. You’re not the loving man our Caroline married.” Doug’s gaze shifts to me. “Good luck, Vivian. You’re going to need it.”

  *

  Oliver

  Vivian sits idle in the chair, holding Rosenberg. I don’t understand why she’s still here. I just admitted the one thing I never imagined admitting—I wanted Caroline to die. But it’s more than that. I didn’t want to stand by and watch her bleed out. I wanted to kill her.

  She stands. Here it comes, the goodbye that will send me spiraling into the personal hell from which I had just started to emerge. I press my palm to my chest to keep my heart from leaping out after her; it knows she’s the rhythm to which it beats.

  I close my eyes as she approaches the door where I stand. Of all the mental images I will forever have of Vivian, her walking out my door … out of my life, cannot be one of them.

  Her hand on my cheek, so gentle, tears me apart. “I’m taking Rosenberg out to go potty. Then we’ll go eat. Okay, babe?”

  I open my tear-filled eyes and suck in a shaky breath so desperate my lungs have a physical flashback to the day I was born.

  She wipes her thumb under my eye as her lips curl into a tight, painful smile.