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“The thing about Romeo is that he’s aggressive. He’s dominant. He knows what he wants and how to get it. That’s why I’m pretty sure Romeo is an Aries.” Olivia glanced up from the paper a student had actually written and turned in for an assignment as Anthony burst into laughter across her at the breakfast table.
“Romeo! An Aries!” Anthony’s grin widened. “I’ve never heard anything so funny in my life.”
“I can’t believe she thought this was what I meant when I said, ‘Write me your thoughts about the dynamic between Romeo and Juliet.’”
“Well, you did keep it pretty open-ended,” Anthony pointed it.
“True.”
“And does she go on to make good points about why she thinks Romeo is an Aries?”
“She even goes on to say she thinks Juliet is a Pisces and that a Pisces and an Aries seem good together at first but burn out fast. I guess in a sense, she has her bases covered,” Olivia returned.
“What do you think? I think you should give her an A. Maybe an A-plus.”
Olivia scrunched her nose, lifted her red pen and poised it over the paper. Anthony drummed his hands on the table in expectation.
“You have all this power over them. You’re kind of like their God.”
“I know. It’s terrifying,” Olivia admitted. “And yet—” Here, she drew a B across the top corner of the page and wrote, “Please include more literary themes next time — although I appreciate the creativity.”
“Aw. A B?” Anthony clucked his tongue. He then took the pen from Olivia and drew a plus sign next to the B, making it a B plus. “That’s better.”
“Fine, but she doesn’t deserve any favors,” Olivia returned.
“Hey, don’t mess around with her. She has the secrets of the stars behind her,” Anthony returned.
Olivia leaned back and cracked her neck. She had graded fifteen papers that morning and only had seven more to go. After that, she and Anthony had agreed to take a day off from The Hesson House and head to her parents’ for a family dinner. The idea of many hours without a single notion of, “Does suite four have enough towels?” or “Why are we already out of vodka for the week?” felt delicious.
Olivia’s phone buzzed with a message from Chelsea. They’d been in contact for the previous two days, ever since Chelsea had finally fessed up that Tyler would stay with her for a little while until he figured out what to do, whatever that meant for a grown man twenty years his daughter’s senior. In the text, Chelsea had attached a photograph of her and Tyler at brunch. Both had ordered eggs Benedict; Tyler drank a Bloody Mary. Figures.
“What’s up? Your face got all sour all of a sudden.”
Olivia flashed the photo around for Anthony to see. He scratched at his chest and said, “I don’t know. They look happy at least?”
“Yeah, they do.” Maybe this was why it bothered Olivia so much. She was jealous.
Still, she really did feel that Chelsea always gave her father far too many chances. Where was the line? It was always so blurred when it was someone you loved.
**
AT AROUND FOUR THAT afternoon, Olivia and Anthony discovered her parents, Kim and Dave, out on the back of their wrap-around porch, both a bit loose from their mid-day mimosas. Kim beamed at her daughter and rose up, gesturing out and saying, “Isn’t it so beautiful for September? We got lucky.”
Olivia rolled herself into her mother’s hug and exhaled deeply. After all the hectic energy of the previous weeks, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed her mother.
“Your brother and Maxine and the kids are almost here,” Kim said as she stepped back and straightened herself. After a giggle, she added, “And to be honest with you, I’ve hardly thought about the food I meant to prepare.”
“Let’s just order pizza?” Olivia tried.
“Oh, nonsense. I’m the grandmother of this group. I’m meant to cook,” Kim demanded, just before she drew up a big burst of energy and stormed into the house.
“I guess I’ll head in after her,” Olivia said to Anthony and her father, who’d already begun to swap baseball stories from games they’d previously attended over the years. Maybe another woman would have rolled her eyes, but she felt so tender toward the idea that her parents had welcomed Anthony into the fold without pause. They’d never been particularly taken with Tyler and the fact that he had left her hadn’t exactly added fire to the idea that Olivia was particularly “good” at all that love stuff. Anthony was different. Anthony planned to stick around.
Well, at least, she hoped.
“So, tell me.” Her mother went through the cabinets and pulled out pots and pans and cutting boards. “How is our Chelsea girl?”
Olivia’s throat tightened. “You know Chelsea. She’s about as headstrong as ever.”
“I do know that,” Kim replied with a laugh. “Even when she was a little girl, remember? She was so quick-witted and snarky. She never let anyone give her any guff. I’m sure the city won’t know what to do with her.”
Olivia was silent as she collected a number of onions and began to peel and chop. Her mother flicked on the stereo and played an old Ace of Base CD. It was a funny thing, seeing a CD in a CD player — as though they’d stepped back in time.
The door cracked open and Jared hollered out in greeting. Olivia rushed to the doorway and waved an onion-ed hand toward him as he held open the door for Maxine and his kids, Troy and Tessa. The four of them were utterly wholesome. As was her normal duty, Maxine held a tray of baked goods, which she had baked only that afternoon, to ensure they were fresh.
“Hi, there! There’s our hotelier,” Jared said as he stepped behind his family and headed with them toward the back porch. “Mom put you to work already?”
“You know a lady’s duties are never done,” Olivia returned.
“I’ll be in in a minute,” Maxine called.
Kim arched a brow toward Olivia and muttered, “I really like my time alone with my girl, but — I guess we’ll let Maxine join in.”
Olivia remembered this dynamic between herself and Tyler’s mother. She’d just never quite fit with her, like a glove a few sizes too big.
Maxine’s energy shifted the mood considerably, it was true, but at least the topic of Chelsea was taken off the table. Maxine had endless things to say about Troy, who was seventeen and now in his senior year.
“I’m surprised you don’t have him in class, Liv,” Maxine said as she popped open a bottle of wine.
“Maybe he requested to have the other teacher,” Olivia said with a sneaky smile. “So I can’t keep watch on my nephew.”
“Oh! Watch?” Maxine laughed raucously, as though her son had never done a thing wrong in his life.
Olivia, of course, heard rumors. Troy wasn’t a bad kid — far from it, but he occasionally ran around with the kids who liked to party, and he’d certainly broken a few girls’ hearts. If Maxine had heard tell of this, she wouldn’t have believed it. She was too pure of heart.
Maxine headed off briefly to speak with her daughter, which left Olivia and Kim again in the kitchen, a den of their own secrets and gossip. Kim dropped morsels of garlic into the sizzling oil and pushed it around with the spatula.
“You’re looking tired, Olivia.”
“Gee. Thanks, Mom.”
Kim’s eyes found Olivia’s as she furrowed her brow. “I don’t mean it like that. You look beautiful as ever, but I’m worried about you. Jennifer’s mother told me that you came into the Frosted Delights crying the other morning.”
Olivia rolled her eyes into the back of her head. Had Ariane been in the kitchen without her noticing? Or had Jennifer passed along this information? It didn’t matter. All that did was that Martha’s Vineyard was too darn small.
“I’m fine, Mom. I just got a bit overwhelmed that day. It was one thing after another. It’s just what the hotel industry is and with me juggling both, it can be a lot.”
“I understand that. But as far as I’ve known the past twenty years, you’ve been a teacher.”
“Yes. And now, I’m both.”
Kim chuckled. “And when do you take time for yourself, then?” She said it as though she already knew the answer.
Know it all, Olivia thought then.
And, of course, this sizzling inner-voice sarcasm seemed very Chelsea-like behavior. Like grandmother, like mother, like daughter.
“I think it’ll calm down after the first year or so,” Olivia affirmed. “And I can do anything for a year.”
Anthony came in through the kitchen then. His hand draped over Olivia’s lower back as he asked her where they had put the bottles of wine they’d bought specifically for the family dinner. Olivia gazed lovingly up at him as she answered. Anthony then turned to catch sight of Kim, stirring the sauce for the pasta.
“Smells amazing, Kim.”
Kim scoffed playfully. “You have to say that.”
“I do,” Anthony returned. “But it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
Kim beamed at him as he stepped back out to find the wine. She then caught Olivia’s eye yet again and said, “Well, I suppose if you burn out over the next year, at least you have that man to take you out of the fire.”
“Mom...”
“What? I always prayed for you to find a man like him.”
“Mom...” Her smile was infectious.
“And you look different,” Kim continued.
“I know. You told me already. I look tired.”
“No. You look like you’re in love. It’s a different kind of love than you used to have with that other rascal. That guy. Ugh.” She physically shuddered, then continued to stir. “Good thing we got Chelsea out of it. Otherwise, that Tyler character would be totally useless.”
Olivia felt as though she slept-walked through much of the rest of dinner. Laughter bubbled through her; her stomach filled and her heart lifted, but by the time nine o’clock hit, her head found Anthony’s shoulder and she was knocked out cold. He woke her a few minutes later and gently told her they would drive home now. Olivia hardly recognized where she was.
“Uh oh. We’ve got patient zero of the zombie apocalypse here,” her father said.
“Ugh. Jeez. Did I fall asleep at the table?”
“You did,” Jared said. “And we’ll never let you forget it.”
“Great,” Olivia breathed.
She kissed and hugged everyone goodbye, then laced her hands with Anthony’s and forced herself out toward the road, where Anthony had parked the car near the mailbox. Again, en route home, she crashed hard, and Anthony threatened to carry her into bed.
“I can make it. I can make it!” she cried as he tried to dig his arms beneath her thighs and lift her through the air.
But a few minutes later, once her head hit the pillow, she was mostly dead to the world. And when her alarm called her out of her sleep at six the following morning, she looked to the next week with dread.