“Do you think we should warn them of the possibility of flying shoes?” Phil teased.
“I think they’ll be safe as long as we don’t try to keep up with them.”
Kristin and Brian joined them next, and then another couple Olive didn’t know. By the time the next song started, almost everyone in the apartment was swing dancing or attempting to swing dance. Olive was having so much fun that she had glanced at her watch only once (it was eleven twenty). Benny Goodman’s “Sing Sing Sing” trumpeted from the speakers. Then suddenly, as Phil pulled her into a tuck turn, she caught a glimpse of a familiar blond head twirling past them. Kerrigan. They hadn’t seen each other or spoken since Olive’s birthday party. Kerrigan had never returned any of her calls. Olive completed her turn and their eyes met in an obstinate stare.
Her feelings about Kerrigan had fluctuated since she and Phil had gotten back together. Her anger had lessened in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if her relationship had been permanently over, but she was still disturbed by Kerrigan’s conduct. She didn’t understand how Kerrigan could’ve been so malicious and spiteful. What other possible motive for telling Phil could she have had?
“Let’s take a break,” she suggested to Phil, and they left the bustling dance floor.
He snagged a spot for them on the recently vacated couch. The couch and armchairs had been pushed together in a corner to make room for the dancing. The jumbled-up furniture felt surprisingly intimate.
“Don’t look now,” he said, “but Kerrigan’s over there with her doctor friend.” He had told Olive about Kerrigan’s e-mail in more detail. And while he faulted Kerrigan for misleading him into thinking that Olive was having an affair, he still felt gratitude for her attempt at honesty and believed her intentions had been honorable.
Olive casually scanned the dance floor for a glimpse of Dr. Morgan. She wouldn’t have recognized Kerrigan’s date if Phil hadn’t identified him first. He wore a faded black T-shirt, and his wire-rimmed glasses were conspicuously absent. Kerrigan had his wrist in a tight grip as she wiggled her hips and tugged him from side to side.
“Remind me again what Kerrigan said in the e-mail,” she said.
Phil sighed. “I don’t remember her exact words, but she wrote that she didn’t think it was fair for me to be in the dark anymore, that I needed to know the truth, just as much as you needed me to know the truth.”
“What was that last part? You didn’t say that last time.”
“Olive, I just told you I can’t remember her exact words.”
“Do you still have the e-mail?”
“It wasn’t exactly something I wanted to keep for posterity.”
She chewed on her thumbnail and fidgeted with her watch. It was eleven thirty-five. There were twenty-five minutes of 2011 left, and while the thought of missing out on precious minutes spent with Phil dismayed her, there was someone else she loved almost as much as Phil and had known even longer with whom she needed to reconcile. Ending the year estranged from her best friend felt all wrong.
“I need to talk to Kerrigan.”
It wasn’t difficult to persuade Kerrigan and Fritz to quit the dance floor; Fritz didn’t even seem to know the dance steps well enough to count them under his breath. Relieved, he joined Phil on the couch, and Kerrigan, with an impassive face, followed Olive to the tiny kitchen. It was the type of kitchen where the fridge door and a cabinet couldn’t be opened at the same time. Kerrigan leaned against the counter with her arms crossed; Olive stood in front of the refrigerator. They were only a few feet away from each other. Olive didn’t know what to say; this was as far as she had planned.
“So you and Dr. Morgan are still dating,” she said.
“We are,” Kerrigan said defiantly, and uncrossed her arms. “And I see you and Phil are back together.”
Olive gritted her teeth. So she had known that they had broken up. Of course, it wasn’t too surprising an outcome after what Kerrigan had told Phil. Her hands trembled as all her pent-up anger struggled to be released. She longed to shake Kerrigan by the shoulders and shout at her, How can you just stand there like that? You do realize that Phil and I spent two months apart? That we almost didn’t get back together? You’re my best friend. How could you betray me like that? Instead, she bit her lip and tried to believe in Phil’s conviction that Kerrigan had had a noble motive. She tried to remember all the good times she and Kerrigan had had together.
“You didn’t return my calls,” she said.
Kerrigan shrugged. “Sorry. I figured you were calling to yell at me.”
Olive had to admit to herself that this wasn’t too far from the truth, but Kerrigan’s flippancy and lack of remorse still stung. She was starting to regret this conversation; it seemed nothing productive could come of it. “Why would you think I’d want to yell at you?”
“Because you blame me for your breakup.”
This was also partially true. Though she knew it was her own lies and infidelity that had caused the cracks in the foundation of their relationship, it seemed that Kerrigan had been the dynamite that blew the whole thing wide open. She couldn’t help thinking that if Kerrigan hadn’t broken the news to Phil first, she would’ve somehow found a gentler way to tell him everything, and he would’ve understood, and weeks of hardship and agony could’ve been prevented. But if Kerrigan hadn’t told him, would Olive have ever really done it?
“Why did you tell him?” Olive asked. She tried to sound merely curious, but she knew her question was infused with vehemence.
Kerrigan exhaled heavily. “There are a lot of reasons, actually. Some of them I’m not proud of. At first, I was just really hurt and mad. Hurt that you were moving out on me after you said you wouldn’t. Mad that you had the nerve to be so judgmental about my relationship with Fritz. And maybe I was also a tiny bit jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what? My repeat year?”
“Yes, but also your relationship with Phil. I’ve been looking for something like that for almost four years now.” She absentmindedly twisted a clump of her hair. “But I was never vengeful, I promise you that.”
“What do you mean? That you didn’t want to hurt me?”
Kerrigan seemed to ignore the question. “At the party, I was pissed off at you, so I threatened to tell Phil. But I actually had no intention of telling him—not at first; I just wanted to scare you. And boy, were you scared. White as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. The more I thought about your reaction, the more I realized how destructive keeping that secret from Phil was. It was killing you. There you were, at a surprise party thrown by your adoring boyfriend in your beautiful new home together, and you couldn’t enjoy it one bit. And then I remembered when you first told me about Alex, how you looked at me with these scared eyes, like I was going to condemn you, but you know that’s not my style. You confided in me, Olive, because you didn’t know what else to do. I realized you could never be truly happy with Phil if you had this lie on your shoulders, but I also knew you were too chicken to ever tell him. So I had to be the friend you needed and do it for you.”
Olive was incredibly touched by her friend’s speech, but there were still some things that didn’t add up. “But why did you tell him the way you did? Sending him an e-mail proclaiming that I was cheating on him?”
“That wasn’t how I wanted to do it,” Kerrigan said. “But I couldn’t think of a better way. And I wanted to tell him about the repeat year, but I didn’t know how, and I didn’t want him to think I was a nut job. But it sounds like he really latched onto the whole affair thing.”
“Well, how did you expect him to react?” Olive snapped.
Kerrigan’s eyes widened. “I knew he would be upset. But I also knew that if you guys were strong enough as a couple, like I thought you were, that you would get back together and would be the better for it.” She paused for a beat. “And I was right. But I’m sorry I caused so
much collateral damage in the process.”
Olive felt a little unsteady on her feet. She leaned against the cool door of the fridge. Kerrigan’s explanation had comforted her, but it had also illuminated her own weakness and indecision this year. Kerrigan had known her better than she had known herself. She had been stronger and more principled than Olive. Oddly enough, without Kerrigan’s interference—and Sherry’s and Christopher’s—Olive didn’t think she and Phil could’ve pulled off a happy ending this year.
“I guess I should thank you,” she said, embarrassed by the warm rivulets running down her face. She wiped them away quickly with the back of her hand.
“Aw, shucks. No thanks needed.” A lopsided grin spread across Kerrigan’s face. “Just a big fat ‘I was wrong, and you were right, Kerrigan,’ would suffice. For someone who can see the future, you sure are fallible.”
“Tell me about it,” Olive muttered.
“Okay, I will. You were wrong about Fritz.”
“That was meant to be rhetorical, you know.” Olive toyed with a fancy corkscrew lying open on the counter.
“I know, but I’m intentionally ignoring that. Or trying to, if you’d stop interrupting. Fritz and his wife filed for an uncontested divorce at the beginning of the month, and it’ll become official in March. So she’s staying in New York doing her own thing, and he’s staying in Madison doing his own thing, and they’re both much happier people for it. We’re moving in together next week.”
“Next week? You mean you’re not already living together?” She suddenly lost interest in the corkscrew.
“No. I’ve been staying with Ciara. I told Fritz I wouldn’t be his mistress. That I deserved better.” Kerrigan’s eyes were shining. “You’re not always totally off base.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Olive exclaimed.
“What? That Fritz is a free man or that you’re not always off base?”
“Both, I guess.”
She burst out laughing, and Kerrigan joined her. A long, awkward pause followed in which Kerrigan fussed with her hair and Olive studied the labels of the empty bottles lined up on the counter. Abruptly, at the same time, they both spread their arms for a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re not mad at me anymore,” Kerrigan said into Olive’s shoulder. “You have no idea how much Christmas shopping sucks without you. You know how helpless I am in malls! And my sister’s hair isn’t long enough to braid, and she’s an even bigger neat freak than you. This past month I’ve been so happy with Fritz, but it didn’t feel like real happiness, because I couldn’t share it with my best friend.”
“But now you can,” Olive said, squeezing her arm. “I know the feeling. I finally made it through this year relatively in one piece. I have Phil back, and we’re stronger than ever. But I didn’t have you, and it’s taken me way too long to realize that that was one of my biggest mistakes last year—letting us drift apart.”
“Oh, Olive Elizabeth, you’re going to make me cry.” Kerrigan blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and then smiled mischievously. “It seemed rude to mention it earlier, but—oh, never mind.”
“No, what is it?” Olive leaned forward, concerned.
“You’re wearing my dress.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn this was mine.” Olive smoothed the intricate pleats and folds of her satiny skirt. “But didn’t I wear it to Claire and Nathan’s rehearsal dinner?”
“You did. It was still mine then. You can keep it, though. It looks way better on you with your coloring. It would also make me feel a lot better about keeping your red halter dress.” She stuck out her tongue, and Olive laughed.
“Five minutes to midnight,” Brian announced as he poked his head into the kitchen, which was much too small for three people all at once. Olive squashed herself up against one of the cupboards so he could open the fridge. He pulled out three bottles of champagne and tucked them under his arms. “There are going to be some lonely guys out there if you ladies don’t come out.”
Five minutes! Olive checked her watch to confirm that he was right. The night had flown by. Suddenly, in retrospect, it seemed like the entire year had flown by. She wished she had just one more day, one more hour even, to make sure that everything was in order. Perhaps she should’ve visited Sherry today.
“Looking forward to the new year?” Kerrigan asked with a wink as they rejoined the party.
“Desperately.”
She found Phil next to the balcony, looking as apprehensive as she felt. He was holding both their jackets. “Did everything go okay?” he asked.
“Yes. She actually explained a lot. I’ll tell you more later.”
“Good. Look, I’ve got the perfect spot staked out. We have the whole balcony to ourselves. No one else wants to go out here because it’s so cold and they want to watch the TV countdown.” He helped her into her jacket before opening the sliding door.
They stepped outside. Kristin and Brian lived on the top floor of a seven-story apartment building on North Hamilton. While they didn’t have a view of the lake, they had a pretty awesome view of downtown, and if Olive craned her neck to the right, she could see part of the Capitol dome. The night was clear and brisk and full of stars.
“This is perfect,” she said. “I can’t think of a better end to the year.”
“I think you mean a better start to the year.”
They stood at the railing, looking out over the city. The row of decrepit two-story houses across the street looked festive with their lit windows and gaudy Christmas lights. Snow clung to the slanted rooftops in thin patches. Looking down the street, they could see the blocky outlines of banks, restaurants, and bookstores. The moon looked like a slice of honeydew melon.
“How will we know when it’s midnight?” she asked.
“Oh, we’ll know.” He wrapped his arm around her waist.
A short while later, the countdown started inside. Their friends chanted in unison. Olive could make out Kerrigan’s boisterous voice among the others. Ten, nine, eight.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Phil’s arm as if it were a life preserver. Seven, six, five. She held her breath and hoped for the best. Four, three, two, one. Happy New Year!
Phil’s warm lips met hers, gently opening her mouth. He tasted sweet like champagne and felt solid against her. She never wanted their kiss to end. She never wanted to let him go.
At last, they opened their eyes at the same time and grinned at each other. “You’re still here,” he said.
“I know!” she said with a laugh. “But remember I said it might not happen at midnight? It might happen in a less dramatic way, like while we sleep.”
“Then we won’t sleep.”
A purple firecracker exploded in the sky. From where they stood, they could see only the top half of it. The smoke tendrils lingered in the black sky. A few more fireworks were shot off, and suddenly the balcony was where everybody wanted to be. Olive and Phil made their way back inside. After a couple more hours of talking and dancing, they said their good-byes to everyone and headed home to the condo.
Olive turned on the lights in every room. Phil made a pot of coffee. It was like the early days of their relationship when they had pulled all-nighters to cram for final exams.
“I know something that will help us stay awake,” he said, tracing the lines of her bra through her cocktail dress. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“You know you’ll fall asleep afterward.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll stay awake.”
But he did fall asleep after they made love, and Olive could do nothing but stand sentinel over an epoch of her life that she was deathly afraid would disappear. She lay watching Phil’s sleeping face, until he turned away from her, and then she hugged his body to hers. Please don’t make me go back, she prayed to she didn’t know who—God, the universe, her dad, and any other tricksters consp
iring in her fate. I’ve learned my lesson and I’m finally happy. Please don’t take it all away.
The sheet stuck to her feverish skin. She pulled it away and exposed her body to the air for a while, but then she was freezing. She consulted the clock on her nightstand. Four o’clock. Four ten. Four twelve. Four twenty-one. Four thirty-six. Her eyelids felt itchy and grainy. She knew she would fall asleep soon. She shook Phil’s shoulder.
“Wake up, Phil. I need you. I’m going to fall asleep.”
Disoriented and only half awake, he rolled over to face her. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay,” he whispered as though he were a father reassuring a child who had just woken up from a bad dream. He wrapped both his arms around her and held her close. She felt enveloped by him. “I won’t let them take you away.”
When she woke up, she was still in his arms. She glanced around the room wildly to determine where they were. The condo or Phil’s old apartment? She struggled to sit up, but he was holding her too tightly. She strained her eyes to look for the white vertical blinds. No vertical blinds; instead there were curtains. She threw one arm out to feel around on the nightstand for her watch and the earrings she’d taken off the night before. She knocked something onto the floor that clattered. The watch, maybe.
“Phil, Phil. Wake up.”
He moaned something unintelligible but loosened his grip on her, so she was able to pry herself loose and sit up. They were most definitely in the bedroom of the condo. Even in the dark, she could make out the blue-green pattern of the down comforter, the hulking pair of mismatched dressers, her full-length standing mirror, Phil’s gym bag on the floor by the closet. The time was eight o’clock.
“Phil.” She rolled him over so he was lying on his back and climbed on top of him. “Phil. Please open your eyes. Look at me.” She needed him to confirm what she was too afraid to believe in.
The Repeat Year Page 33
