‘Yo, yo, what’s up?’
‘You left New York thirteen years ago, Dad,’ I remind him while I pull on my shoes. As much as I like speaking to Dad, I don’t have time for this. I’m getting ready to go on a detective mission.
‘Whatevs.’
‘Dad. No. Pleeeassee! Now you sound like some cheerleader.’
He laughs then quickly becomes sombre. It sounds odd on him. ‘Look duckie, I’m just calling because I spoke to Rose.’
So. Rose has been telling tales. I put the phone on speaker and lay it on my bed while I zip up my hoodie. ‘That must have been thrilling for you.’
‘She said you met someone—a boy called Tom.’
There is a silence on the line between us. I’m not sure yet where this conversation is heading—I desperately hope he’s calling to say how happy he is for me, but instinct warns me it’s the opposite. I go on the offensive. Gushing like I’ve just been nominated for an Oscar.
‘Isn’t it incredible? It’s just the best thing that’s happened in my life. I’m sooo happy!’
I’m glad he can’t see my smirk. He’d have to be heartless to go rough on me now.
‘That’s great duckie,’ he says, sounding anything but happy.
I push on. ‘Did you hear what I look like?’
‘Yes, Rose told me. She says you look like,’ his voice slips, ‘your Ma.’
It gives me pause to swallow. ‘Nan too, I think.’
‘The Irish runs strong in your veins.’
‘Yeah.’ Because I’m an invisible weirdo like Ma, neither of us say.
There is long drawn-out silence before the inevitable comes. ‘This Tom … Rose says you haven’t told him.’
‘Rose is a dibber-dobber.’
‘She’s just concerned.’
‘Well I can handle it, okay?’
He makes a clucking sound with his tongue. ‘Olive, this isn’t just about you. The boy—’
I pick up the phone so I can shout at it. ‘I know! I could ruin his life, just like Ma ruined yours! Don’t you think I’m aware of that? Do you think this is easy?’ I take a breath, feeling the fury overwhelm me. I’m drowning in it.
‘I know it’s not easy,’ he replies. ‘And your mother did not ruin my life.’
‘Oh yeah? So what do you suggest I do? I don’t even know if we’re compatible yet. I hardly know him. Should I have pulled him aside on our first date and said, “look sorry about this, but apart from the little problem of me being invisible, the gypsy curse also means that if you fall in love with me, everyone else on the planet could become invisible to you”?’
Dad doesn’t respond.
‘Do you think he’d want a second date, Dad? Do you?’ I’m sobbing by this stage.
Dad waits until my sobs settle down. ‘It might not happen to him, duckie. You don’t know, nobody knows. It didn’t strike me for years.’
‘So why do I have to tell him?’ I wail.
‘Because he deserves to know the truth and make the choice himself.’
Again silence lingers between us. I wish this wasn’t my reality, I wish this wasn’t my life, but it is, and there is nothing I can do but face it and hope.
‘Was it really that bad?’ I ask him. ‘Would you have chosen differently if you knew?’
‘Honestly? I don’t know. I had six great years with your Ma before people started fading.’
‘It could be the same for Tom and me.’
‘It could. Or he might never develop the problem at all,’ he says. ‘But you need to tell him.’
I think about Dad then, the strangeness of what he’d experienced. First, finding out the woman he loved was invisible to everyone else, then having an invisible child with her, then worst of all, when he thought he’d learned to accept everything, people started disappearing from his view.
My dad’s a strong man, gregarious, confident, and he found it impossible. Could Tom handle it?
‘You really saw nobody else?’ I ask, desperately hoping for him to suddenly deny it, to tell me it was one of his famous hoaxes.
But he replies, ‘Not until the moment she died.’
My mother, who I remember smelling—coffee and cardamom; touching—soft skin and sweaters; and listening to—tall tales and deep laughter—but never, ever, seeing.
My dad saw her. Was it enough? Maybe it wasn’t.
I doubt it will be enough for Tom.
‘He’ll walk away.’
‘Maybe, duckie, but it’s the right thing to do.’
I’ve got no response to that. Of course it’s the right thing to do, but it will be the end and I don’t want it to end. Tom’s all upset because he hasn’t seen his father in a year. There’s no way he’ll hang around if there is a chance of never seeing anyone he loves again.
Again I curse the gypsy. Again I curse my stupid Nan. Again I curse my stupid parents for having me. It was after I was born that my dad started having trouble.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I say.
‘Think about it, Olive.’
I hang up and drop my phone into my pocket with resolve. This detective mission has become even more important. It’s obvious I’m going to have to tell Tom the truth and when I do I want him to have no doubts. I want him to love me so much he’d risk anything for me. Right now, he wouldn’t risk nuts.
I need to learn how to be the perfect girlfriend. I need Tamara.