Chapter Sixteen

OLIVIA TOOK A last turn around the living room before Ellie’s arrival, touching various objects—a photograph of Lake Michigan, Van Gogh coasters from the Art Institute, a garish rainbow mug. Their randomness camouflaged their true connection. The photo she took standing on the hood of Sophia’s car to get the perfect angle, leaving a dent Sophia razzed her about for years. The coasters were a white elephant gift from Sophia’s office holiday party. The mug Sophia bought at their first Pride parade. Every room in the house held items like these, innocuous on the surface but weighted with story. She’d tried to tuck some away, but when everything evoked her wife, it became too overwhelming to choose.

Ellie texted from her parking spot—part of their coordination to give Ben time to transition. She leaned on the banister and called up. “Hey, Ben, Ellie will be here in a minute. Can you come downstairs? Ben?” Shaking her head, Olivia climbed the steps and found him exactly where she suspected.

Flat on his belly among his Legos, he was building red walls four bricks high, blue walls five bricks high, and yellow walls six bricks high, a pattern he’d followed for years. A fierce protectiveness overtook her. He wasn’t the kind of child the world expected. He wasn’t even the child they had expected, back when she whispered knock-knock jokes through Sophia’s growing belly. But he was exactly who he was meant to be, and he was theirs.

“Is Ellie here?”

“Any second now.” She squatted low and plucked a plastic tree from a plastic lawn. “You’ll have time for more Legos later, but right now, I need you downstairs.”

He grabbed the tree and returned it to its spot, then rolled a tiny car back and forth.

“You were going to welcome her at the door, remember? We practiced this yesterd—”

The doorbell rang, and Ben sprang to his feet, darted past her, and drummed down the stairs. She scrambled to catch up. As she hit the top step, the front door swung open.

“Ellie! Welcometoourhome. Wouldyoulikeatour?”

Olivia reached the first floor to find Ellie smiling at Ben, who had issued his greeting but also parked himself in the doorway, blocking her entrance. She guided him back a step. “Buddy, put some pauses in there.”

He pushed her hand away. “I said it like we practiced!”

“The words were great, but it was a little fast. Watch us.” Ellie’s cheeks glowed with contained mirth. “Hi, Olivia.”

She smiled, playing along. “Hi, Ellie. Welcome to our home.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“We’re glad you could make it.”

Ben bounced on his toes, driving an overflow of energy into the worn hardwood. His shaggy mop of hair flapped with each movement.

“What a lovely home you have.”

“Thank you. Would you like a tour?”

“It takes sooooo long! Come see my room.” His eyes darted to Olivia. She raised an eyebrow. “Please,” he muttered.

A laugh finally burst from Ellie, and she stepped into the house and closed the door. “I would love to see your room.”

He spun and bolted up the stairs, rattling the old house with each thumping footstep.

“Sorry. He’s used to flyby greetings with Arti or Mom. I should make him practice more.”

“It’s fine. Jesus, I thought I was nervous, but the two of you…”

“What do you mean?”

“Ben bouncing like a rabbit. You clenching those fists in your pockets. It’s such a giveaway.” Ellie stripped off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack.

Unlocking her fists, Olivia slid them from her pockets. “I’m sorry. Ben struggles with new people in the house, and I don’t want him melting down, or—”

“It’s his house. He should be comfortable. Don’t worry about me.” Ellie gave her a quick peck. “Can I ask you a super-important question before I go up there?”

“What?”

“Has a men’s white V-neck officially replaced the Henley as your official weekend shirt?” Ellie tugged on the frayed edge of her T-shirt.

“I guess.” Olivia never paid attention to her clothes. Sophia always threw something at her when she needed it. “I run hot, so I hate too many layers. Why?”

Ellie clenched the thin shirt in a fist and dragged her close. Her hand coasted along Olivia’s forearm, trailing sparks as she went. “I love it when you’re scruffy. It’s hot as hell.”

She cupped Ellie’s cheeks. It was hard to stay nervous with her dimpled smile so close. “You’re trying to relax things by flirting with me.”

“Is it working?”

“You tell me.” She captured Ellie’s mouth and drank her in with a long, sweet kiss.

“ELLIE! UP HERE!” Ben’s voice ricocheted down the steps and propelled them apart.

“Like our intercom system? It’s very unobtrusive.”

Ellie laughed and sucked on her lower lip, then released it with a soft smack. “You don’t play fair. I’ll be back.”

 

ELLIE LOOKED FROM Olivia to Ben as he purred into his bowl of ice cream. It was the calmest he’d been this afternoon. His tour had been a dizzy whirl. First, his bedroom and its Lego sprawl. Then, down to the kitchen for a review of his snack cabinet before heading back upstairs. In his bathroom, he demonstrated his new soft-close toilet lid, followed by his battery-operated toothbrush. Olivia hadn’t jumped in, even though it was clear none of this fit her idea of a house tour. Ben’s version of guest appropriate was fun, but Ellie was disappointed he’d barely waved at the living room and its photo-laden mantel before going to the deck. His birdfeeder wasn’t quite the family context she craved.

“I love ice cream.” He had picked his way through a tuna sandwich and blueberries—he explained crunchy foods made his ears hurt—to get to the ice cream. The bowl fell somewhere between a treat and a bribe to keep him at the table. She shot another glance at Olivia, who nodded and touched his shoulder.

“Ben, now that we’re set with dessert, we want to talk to you.”

“No therapy. Ellie isn’t in her blue shirt.”

Ellie pressed a hand to her green sweater. “Nothing with therapy. But this is your first time seeing me without it, huh?”

He nodded with the spoon in his mouth.

Olivia kept her tone light, but tension stiffened her posture. “I told you how Ellie and I are friends, and we hang out, right? Well, sometimes adults decide they want to be more than friends.”

He scarfed another spoonful. A long white drip splattered unnoticed onto his shirt.

“Ellie cares for me, romantically, and I care for her the same way. We’ve talked about this before, different ways to feel about a person.”

“Yeah.” He crammed in more ice cream, gaze fixed on the bowl.

Olivia tapped a finger on the table, close to his hand. “Ellie and I want to spend more time together, so she might come for dinner or hang out on a weekend. Would that be okay?”

His skinny shoulders lifted in a shrug reminiscent of Olivia.

“Ben?” Ellie’s voice drew his eyes upward for a second before they skittered away. “I want to get to know you, too, when I’m here.”

“You already know me.”

“I do, but it would be nice to know you better.”

“Can I show you my Minecraft world?”

“Sure.”

“Are you okay with Ellie being here?” Olivia asked. “Do you have any questions?”

He shoveled in three huge bites, then dropped his spoon. It clattered to the table in a sticky spray. “I’m gonna start the computer.” He darted from his chair before they could speak.

Last night, Ellie had rehearsed answers to dozens of possible questions, preparing to meet Ben’s need for detail. His sudden departure threw her. “That was quick.”

“Since he knew you from TTC, I hoped he’d be more relaxed, but—” Olivia poked a spoon at her own melting ice cream. She’d barely touched it. “Sorry it took so long for him to settle at the table.”

“It’s fine. Like you said, we should base what we do on how he’s feeling. But did it go well, or not?”

“If he hates an idea, he has zero filter, so he’s okay. For now, at least. But he takes forever to process. We’ll have this conversation several times.”

Ellie set his abandoned spoon in his bowl. “Are you okay?”

“Why?”

“You’re distant.”

Olivia finally looked up, a muscle in her jaw clenching. “It’s just stranger than I thought, telling him. It felt so cut and dried when we planned it, but the reality is…”

Concern wormed its way into her brain. “Do you regret it?”

“No, but it’s a lot to absorb. I didn’t really let myself feel it because I was so worried about Ben—what to say, how to make him comfortable—and it all crashed down right before you came.” She pushed her bowl aside and took one of Ellie’s hands.

“ELLIE, I’M READY!”

They both twitched, but neither relaxed their grip. “Is that why you were so jittery when I got here?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about—”

“ELLIE! MY ROOM IS UP HERE, REMEMBER?”

Olivia dropped her forehead into her other palm. “I have to get him to stop doing that.”

They needed time to string together more than these choppy sentences, but Ben’s patience wouldn’t stretch much longer. Ellie pushed back from the table. “If you don’t see me in fifteen minutes, send the Minecraft rescue team.”

The stairs sighed and creaked beneath her feet as if protesting her ascent. The longer she stayed in the house, the more she sensed her own strangeness in it. Their time on the porch hadn’t prepared her for the interior’s intimacy, the way it cradled memories of a former life. She passed a closed door on the way to Ben. Olivia’s bedroom. Their bedroom. Curiosity whispered, persistent and seductive. Her hand grazed the brass knob, rubbed by age to a soft finish. Then she turned away.

“All right, Ben, show me your worlds.”

Without acknowledging her, he trailed description over his shoulder. Ellie knew enough to follow along, but as the minutes ticked by, the various worlds blurred. An ancient radiator, craggy with layers of paint, pinged in the far corner. Next to it, a huge painted tree scaled the wall and climbed onto the ceiling. Hand-painted leaves dotted half the branches, but the rest were unfinished. She tiptoed through the minefield of Lego projects to get a closer look. Whose idea had it been? Olivia’s? Sophia’s? She traced a thick ridge of paint on the trunk, but the tree didn’t give up its secrets.

A bookshelf squatted nearby, and on top sat a dusty framed picture of Sophia with a toddler-sized Ben. When she picked it up, the backing fell off, and a second photo sailed to the floor. Olivia stared up at her, but it was an Olivia she’d never met. Ellie crouched and picked it up by a corner. This Olivia was younger, much younger, and she’d been caught mid-laugh, mouth open and eyes sparkling. Sophia, in profile, gazed at her with obvious devotion.

For the first time, jealousy knifed between Ellie’s ribs. She’d never made Olivia laugh like this, had never seen her face so joyful. Tears stung her eyes. Was she not enough?

“You guys have been up here awhile. How’s it—” Olivia froze in the doorway.

Ellie jerked to her feet, wiping her face. “This fell out of the frame.”

Olivia took the picture from her with a shaky hand. “Ben, I’m borrowing Ellie for a minute.”

He didn’t even turn as she followed Olivia into the hallway, pitching her voice low. “I think it was stuck to the back? I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” Olivia’s gaze scoured the floor.

“It doesn’t seem fine.”

“Years ago, Sophia put this one in Ben’s room, and I changed it out for the picture you saw. It became a silly game. How long until the other noticed? I haven’t seen it since…”

Before the accident, Ellie thought, when Olivia didn’t say it. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t.” Olivia bit the words off as though she was convincing herself.

Jealousy still pricked at her, a stitch in her side. “How—”

“MOM!” Ben ran from his room and bounced into Olivia, who jerked in surprise.

“I’m right here. Why are you shouting?”

“My phone notification. It’s time for Jamal’s!”

“Ellie and I need a minute.”

“You promised! Lunch with Ellie and Jamal’s at three.” A pink flush splattered Ben’s neck, his agitation growing. “It’s three right now!”

“He’s right.” The photo, and the interruption, had Ellie nearly as flustered as Ben, but she swallowed her discomfort. “You should go to Jamal’s.”

“No, wait—” Olivia took her wrist with gentle fingers, and the small contact, the fact that Olivia needed it, eased the worst of her tension.

“It’s fine. We can talk later.” She hated leaving, but they’d planned it this way to avoid overstaying her welcome the first time and to give Ben a chance to blow off steam afterward.

“Are you sure?”

“My shoes are untied. Fix them so we can go.” Ben stomped a foot on the top step.

Olivia swung back to him. “Hey, how do you ask for help?”

He dropped his chin to his chest and changed his words to a question, tacking a half-hearted “please” on the end.

“I’m going to go. Ben, can I have a goodbye?”

His gaze skimmed hers. “Goodbye. We’re two minutes late now, Mom.”

Olivia slumped against the wall. Frustration carved sharp lines on either side of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Call me later?” She squeezed Olivia’s hand once, sending her own signal.

“Yeah.”

Ben’s timekeeping prattle followed Ellie down the stairs as she collected her things and let herself out the front door. The abrupt end to the visit had her off-balance, and she sank into a wicker chair. Brusque daylight stripped the porch of its romance, revealing it not as the sanctuary she’d imagined, but rather a gateway to a more complicated world.

 

ELLIE PEELED A long, damp curl from her 5 Rabbit label and slumped lower on her stool. Alberto had taken one look at her glum face, muttered “triste” under his breath, and banished her to the far end of the bar. It was where he sent all of his miserable customers. Twenty-five years at this place—from a chubby teen bussing tables to its balding manager—had made him an expert in people. Sad drunks brought the energy down. With a gloomy Eeyore at their elbow, customers might not order an extra round, share a second plate of fries. But he was too softhearted to send anyone away. So he culled the sad from the happy with his keen eye and gave them a home by the kitchen, where they could commiserate in peace. Tonight though, she was alone in her gloom, her only company a growing pile of shredded paper.

The bell over the front door jingled as ’Berto ejected a handsy customer, his squat bulk discouraging anything more than a snarled protest. Giving a thumbs-up to the server, he worked his way through the weekend crowd and settled next to her. “Fucking cagón. He’s got enough machismo to grab the waitress’s ass, but when I walk over, pfffffft.”

“I promise she appreciates the support. Do you know many times I got grabbed waiting tables or tending bar? None of my managers did shit about it.” The television overhead showed a soccer match from a fuzzier, pre-HD time. “Is that the ’93 Copa América match against Ecuador?”

“Glad to see you haven’t forgotten your roots.”

“You guys watched that recording until the tape melted in the VCR. Besides, the running forward flip? Has to be Sánchez.”

Alberto swept her label strips into a small pile, pinched them into a clump, and leaned over the bar to toss them in a trash can. “¿Isabella, qué pasó? ’Cause you’re not here to talk about El Tri. Explain your text again. No entiendo.”

“I messed up.” She grimaced and rolled the bottle between her palms.

“How? You saw a picture.”

“I overreacted, and now she must think…” Her stomach soured as she remembered Olivia in Ben’s doorway. “I don’t know what she’s thinking, actually. Which I hate.”

“Was she mad, yelling?”

“No. She seemed wounded, but right when I tried to ask her about it, Ben came flying in. It was like that all day. We’d get in a flow, and then he would act up or interrupt—”

“That’s what kids do.”

“I know, but—”

“No, no sabes.” He leaned forward, elbows planted on the brass rail, and pointed a finger at her. “You work with kids, but you’ve never lived with one. Carmen and I can have a whole argument waiting for Pablo to find his phone or Alejandra to pick out clothes for school. Because that’s how much time we get.”

“But you two have fifteen years together. You were solid before the kids. I don’t have that with Olivia, and it’s the first time I’ve left with something unresolved between us.”

“Explain again about the photo.”

“It was Olivia and Sophia, but younger. And Olivia—” Huffing through her nose, Ellie held back tears of frustration. “She looked happy. Completely, utterly happy.”

“She was happy, with her wife. You know this.”

“I do, but I’ve never seen her that happy, and it hurt. Then I got jealous, ridiculously, stupidly jealous, and I started to cry—” She slammed her palm on the glossy wood. “Mierda!”

“You cried over a picture?” ’Berto’s black eyes scrunched, his disappointed big brother face adding to her guilt. “Isabella…”

“I said I overreacted! You don’t have to tell me. Jesus, I’m never jealous. I don’t know what happened.”

“You’re not jealous, hermanita. You’re scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yes, that you will never make her as happy.”

Bile wafted in the back of her throat. She took a swig to drown the bitter flavor. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true. Olivia is a kind woman, but the sadness is still there. Maybe she can’t be happy in the same way. Maybe it’s unfair to ask it of her.”

His words landed in her gut like lead. She never pressed for details about Sophia, telling herself it was out of respect for Olivia’s feelings, but maybe she’d been protecting herself. From the full reality of what they’d meant to each other. And from the possibility she might never fill that role in Olivia’s life so perfectly.

The Olivia in the picture was a casualty of the accident, along with her wife. Ben had lost two parents that day. One was gone forever, but the other was finding her way back. That Olivia was the woman she had fallen for. That Olivia was the one who mattered. Her phone chirped with a text, and she wiped away tears before digging it out of her pocket.

“Probably Mamá telling you to hit the bodega tomorrow before coming over.” He always hid behind humor after dropping a piece of wisdom on her.

“I can’t believe Manuel taught her to text. It was easier when she avoided the damn phone for fear of it cooking her brain.” She choked on her beer when Olivia’s text popped up.

Feeling unsettled about earlier. Is it just me?

Only Olivia would use the word “unsettled” in a text message. It helped, though, knowing she wasn’t alone in her stewing. She held the screen out.

’Berto waved a meaty hand to show he’d been right all along. “If she’s texting, she can’t be too upset.”

She ignored him and tapped a response. Nope. Me too. R U OK?

Was going to ask you. Can we talk?

Want me to call?

Getting Ben ready for bed. Would you mind coming back over?

What time?

In an hour?

C U then

She went to put the phone away, but it chirped one last time.

The way you text makes me feel old.

She laughed and stuffed it in her pocket.

“¿Todo bien?” Alberto took a sip of his water, a purposely bland expression on his face.

She hooked a thumb toward the door. “I’m headed out after this beer, ’Berto. I need to apologize to my girlfriend.”

 

OLIVIA FLATTENED A bent corner of the photograph, falling through its window into another world—a world smoothed by the backward winding of time. Her curls hung looser with no coarse gray to twist them into crisper whorls. Tiny seams of crow’s-feet had yet to unravel and expose themselves. She looked shiny and young in a way she couldn’t remember being. Even her cheeks carried a softness that had been stripped from her.

Her house was crammed with pictures she didn’t notice anymore. Ben needed them as touchstones, arranging them to suit the current logic of his grief. Early on, she’d studied each mercurial adjustment for a clue to his thoughts. But if there was a message, she never found it. Eventually, exhausted by the fickle shuffle, she stopped looking. Only the shifting outline of frames told her when something changed. But this photo’s sudden reappearance gave it power. It forced her to see the woman she’d once been, reflecting the light of Sophia next to her.

The front door cracked open, and Ellie’s cautious face peeked through the gap. “I know you said it would be unlocked, but I knocked softly anyway.”

“Sorry. I was lost in thought. Thanks for coming over. I didn’t like cutting things off earlier.”

“Me either.” Ellie hovered in the doorway, an odd hesitancy muting her normal confidence.

“Will you come in and sit down?” Olivia hated the relief on Ellie’s face, as though she needed permission. Ellie turned the deadbolt, then crossed to the couch, and Olivia tossed the photograph onto the coffee table. “Arti took this the day we found out Sophia was pregnant. She goaded me into a laugh by making a lewd joke.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two. I haven’t seen it in years, so it knocked me back. It was Sophia’s favorite photo of me.” Her jaw ached from clenching, and she forced the muscles to relax. “Why did it make you cry?”

“I haven’t been jealous of what you had with Sophia, not once, but your smile here, seeing you this happy—” Ellie pulled the picture closer, then grimaced. “Jesus, this is hard to admit. It hurt, knowing you’ve never looked like that with me, and I got scared. Scared I would never see you like that. And I got way too emotional. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Ellie, it’s only a moment. One moment.” She tapped her smiling face. “This woman, she had no idea what it would mean to parent Ben, she hadn’t watched cancer hollow out her father. I’m not sure she existed before the accident, much less after. I know I’m pretty serious, and I can be too quiet, but that’s me. It’s who I was when this picture was taken.” A dark insecurity bubbled over. “If I’m not the person you…if I’ve disappointed you… Maybe who I am isn’t who you want.”

“That’s not what I meant. At all.” The words leapt from Ellie’s mouth, and her hands latched on to Olivia’s forearm. “I think you’re incredible. I just want to be enough for you. I want to make you happy.”

The intensity of Ellie’s reply soothed Olivia’s unease. She searched for a way to return that assurance. “You do make me happy, every time I see you, every time I think about you.” With her free hand, she dug her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her photos. She opened one and set it on the table by the photograph. “Here’s Ben and I, six months after the accident. We were taking selfies again—it was something he did with Sophia, and I knew she wouldn’t want me to let it go—and this was an early one. I’ve kept it as a reminder of how far he’s come.”

Ellie sucked in a breath, blinking back tears.

Olivia understood the reaction. Where age had scoured her features with its inexorable crawl, grief was a brushfire, a conflagration of change. Her guarded face wouldn’t support the smile she tried to hang on it, and sorrow had picked her gaunt body clean. The Ben at her side was more empty vessel than boy. “The woman on the phone is numb, lost. Where I am now is so far from that empty place, and so much of it has to do with you. Please believe me.”

Ellie turned the photograph facedown. She did the same with the phone. Then she cradled Olivia’s face, her walnut-dark eyes misty but steady. “The woman I am looking at right now is everything I want. I love that you’re serious, and quiet, and thoughtful, and I hate that my stupid overreaction gives you even the slightest idea I don’t think you’re absolutely wonderful.” Her thumb stroked Olivia’s cheekbone. “It’s like with your scars, our first night. The accident was an abstraction, and then it was horribly real, how much you must have suffered, that you almost died. Today, in this house…Sophia felt real to me. Real in a way she hasn’t before. And it made me scared I could never be enough.”

“Ellie, you are exactly who I need you to be. Working through Sophia’s loss is my deal, not yours. It shouldn’t impact you in the slightest. You deserve something easier.”

“Hard, easy, it doesn’t matter as long as I have you.” Ellie drew her into a strong hug, and she returned it with fierce intensity.

“You have me,” Olivia whispered. “You have me.”