She spins until the world feels like it's going to fly out from underneath her. Until she feels like she's going to throw up and even then, as she comes to a stop, she still laughs. Giggles. Loud and uninhibited. Only when the world turns right side up again does she pause. Her eyes focus and she finds Fitz, across the rink, holding onto the side. It's a Friday night and Kaloroma is buzzing with life. It's the first time in months that she's gotten out and gone to her old hangouts. Olivia pushes off her left skate and makes her way over to Fitz.
"You can fly a plane off a boat, but you can't skate?" Olivia asks him.
"Balancing on four wheels on a plywood floor is very different than flying a plane," Fitz shoots back. His knuckles are turning red from holding onto side.
Olivia can't help but notice how cute he is when he's helpless. It feels good for the tables to turn, too. For once in their few short months of knowing each other, she's not the one who needs help. "If you'd take my hand, I could teach you." She holds out her right hand and wiggles her fingers. "Take it."
"I'm about a foot taller than you."
"And?"
"And at least a hundred pounds heavier."
"So?"
"So, if I fall on you, it'll hurt!" He nearly shouts. A flurry of skaters passes by and they snicker.
Olivia narrows her eyes as they pass. She speaks before she thinks. "If I can teach Russell to skate, I can teach you." As soon as the sentence leaves her mouth, she wishes she could shove it back in. For a brief moment she had forgotten about Russell. About their beginning and ending. About how the place she now stood in is a physical marker of her past with Russell. Their photo was still tacked to the picture wall behind the skate rental booth. Their names were still etched into the hallway by the bathrooms. Maybe this wasn't the ideal choice for their date. "I mean you couldn't be any worse than the others I've taught."
Fitz gives her a stiff smile before he stands up straight. Olivia parts her lips to apologize but is cut off by the feel of Fitz's hand sliding into hers. Her expression softens and she fights the urge to curl into his side. They're magnets. Polar opposites in every way that counts, yet they can't stop moving closer together.
"If I fall on you, you'll be the one to explain to your aunt what happened. Not me. I don't need another reason for her not to like me."
Together they push off, away from the wall. Olivia pivots so that she's skating backwards, in front of him, both of her hands now in his. "She likes you," Olivia insists. "Why do you think she doesn't like you?"
"Are you just showing off now?" Fitz comments. He's still moving slow, static. He juts out his chin toward her toes. "And she always seems uncomfortable when I'm around."
Olivia sighs. She knows exactly what her aunt's uneasiness is about. "It's not you, Fitz. It's… my aunt is from a different generation," she offers up. "If she didn't like you, she would be more than stiff when you're around. That I can promise you."
Another flurry of people passes by, a few slowing down to gawk in their direction. Olivia ignores their gazes. She knows what they're starring at – what they're silently questioning and judging. Much like those two women from the restaurant the previous night.
"How'd you learn to skate so well?" Fitz asks. He lifts his head and Olivia laughs at the way his eyebrows draw together in focus. He's truly trying hard to stay on his feet.
She shrugs. "My mom bought me a pair of skates for my tenth birthday. I've just been doing it ever since. I used to skate in competitions back when I was at Howard."
"When did you graduate Howard?"
"Last year. I gave myself a year to get a song on the radio or something before I decided to go to law school." She lets go of his left hand and slides into place next to him, still holding his left hand tightly in her right.
"Law school?" he repeats.
Olivia nods next to him. "Law school."
"You're telling me that you have a brilliant legal mind and a killer voice, Miss Pope?"
She giggles. Blushes. "I'm the daughter of a lawyer and a choir teacher, sir. Would you expect anything less?"
He squeezes her hand and Olivia smiles. She feels her cheeks swell and she begins to pick up speed. Overhead the sounds of Jean Knight's Mr. Big Stuff fill the rink. "I love this song!" Olivia shouts.
Without thinking, she lets go of Fitz's hand and picks up pace. She weaves in and out of the crowd, dancing and skating to the beat. Her eyes find Fitz as he struggles to move through thickening crowd. She slows, moving out of the way as people break around a struggling Fitz and she makes her way back towards him. She's almost all the way back to where he's struggling through the fast-moving crowd towards the rink border, when a hand grabs her left wrist.
Olivia spins in place and comes face to face with her friend Fatima. "Hey to you, too, Tee…"
"What the hell is wrong with you, Olivia?" Fatima hisses. Much like Olivia, she's a petite woman. Unlike Olivia, though, Fatima's hair springs upwards. She's all natural with skin a couple of shades deeper than Olivia's. She wears all black.
Olivia snatches back her arm. "What are you talking about?"
"That guy you're with," Fatima says, jerking her head in Fitz's direction.
"And? That's just Fitz. He's my friend – boyfriend."
"I can't believe you right now. You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
Olivia skids to a halt. Her defenses are high, and she eyes her friend – former friend – with contempt. Her hands come to rest on her jean-clad hips, and she tilts her head. "I'm a piece of work? You haven't called or checked in on me in months. Now you're in my face. For what? Friends for life, remember?"
"You're rolling around here with that white boy on your arm like no one in here knows who he is." Fatima growls. She stops, too. "He murdered Russell."
Olivia goes cold. The truth sits on the tip of her tongue and all she wants to do is scream the truth, but she knows she can't. What's been said and done is behind them. Or so she's hoped. Every time she sees a cop car, she wonders if its Detective House. Even in her hysteria the portly detective had still creeped her out. "You don't know shit, Tee. None of you do."
"I know that he's a murderer. He murdered your fiancé. A good man. Have you even checked on Mrs. Robinson while you're hugged up with her son's killer? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Fatima's words cause Olivia's belly to boil. Her eyes fill with flames. "I suggest you stop talking, Fatima, before I forget we used to be friends."
"You ain't nothing but a sellout. You didn't deserve Russell. He treated you like gold when all you are is trash."
"You. Don't. Know. Shit. Stop. Talking." She forces each word through clenched teeth. She keeps her eyes trained on her former friend. A crowd starts to gather around them. Fatima's words ring in her ears. He treated you like gold. Olivia has to bite back the truth she knows no one will believe any ways. She knows about the whispers. Everyone has had something to say about Russell's death, though no one until now has said anything to her.
"You want me to stop talking? You're lying on a dead man who can't defend himself. Telling anyone who'll listen that what happened that night was self-defense. Russell caught you fucking that whiteboy. Admit it. You're nothing but a busted washed up whore."
Olivia balls her fists at her sides. Anger and hurt battle in her belly. Once upon a time ago she and Fatima were friends. Sleepover, clothes sharing, secret keeping friends. "I don't owe you or anyone here an explanation about shit and you have one more time to call me out of my name."
"You're a who—"
The word doesn't get out of Fatima's mouth before Olivia pounces. Her right fist connects with Fatima's mouth and everything subsequently goes black. The roller rink falls away and the anger she's kept inside for so long is unleashed. When she finally comes to, Fitz is holding her arms at her sides. She kicks the air and her ears ring. Her cheeks are sticky, and she can feel an angry sob trapped in her throat.
"Calm down, Livvie. You have to calm down…" Fitz whispers against her left ear. "It's over. She's down. You have to stop."
Slowly the world begins to bud around her once more. She looks down to find a few people between she and Fatima. Her eyes wind around bodies, in search of her former friend. When she finally spots Fatima, Olivia takes note of the blood pouring from the other woman's lip and she wishes would've dotted Fatima's eye, too.
"Get the hell out of here!" Someone shouts. Olivia knows they've overstayed their welcome.
/
When the taxi rounds the corner to Olivia's aunt's home, Fitz casts his eyes sideways. Olivia sits on the opposite side of the cab. Her arms are folded across her chest and her white blouse is dirt, rumpled. He still can't believe what he's seen. He'd turned away for seconds – minutes – to find his balance. When he'd turned back around, eyes rifling through the crowd, he'd found a group gathered around where Olivia had stood talking to another woman. When he'd finally made it through the crowd, he'd found Olivia on top of the woman, swinging and screaming.
"That'll be $4.73," the driver says.
Fitz digs into his pocket and pulls out a five-dollar bill. He slides it through the gated window and waves at the driver to keep the change. He gets out and runs around the cab to open Olivia's door.
"Do you need me to keep the cab running?" The driver asks.
Fitz waves him off. He'll call another cab once he gets Olivia situated and lets her aunt know what's happened.
He watches as Olivia makes her way out of the cab and up the porch. Fitz follows close behind still shocked by the night's events. He'd been wary – and rightfully so – when Olivia had introduced him to Kalorama, but for other reasons. Not because he'd been afraid, she'd physically fight someone, but rather because he knew his presence would draw some kind of attention.
The screen door bangs shut behind them and Olivia stalks into the kitchen. Fitz follows her and waits to hear the telltale sign of Althea Pope, but only hears Olivia as she turns on the faucet and sticks her fist under the spray.
"I'm sorry I ruined our date," Olivia says.
"What did she say to you?" Fitz asks.
"Stuff I don't want to repeat. Believe it or not, we used to be friends. Roommates, actually. We were at Howard together." She turns off the facet and holds up her rapidly bruising hand.
Fitz crosses the kitchen and takes her wounded hand in his right. He can't help but crack the ghost of a smile. This is how they'd met. "It was about us?"
Olivia nods at his question. "Yes and no. She said that Russell treated me like gold, and something just cracked inside at those words.
After last night and hearing about how afraid she is that he'd one day turn into Russell, Fitz understands why she'd launch at Fatima. Olivia is carrying a lot of hurt and he wants her to feel safe enough with him to let it out. "Why don't you go tell your aunt that you're home and then we can sit on the porch and talk?"
"She's not here," Olivia points to the kitchen table. Fitz's eyes follow and he walks over to the paper.
Out with Frank.
I'll be back by 11.
Enjoy the rink.
Love,
Aunt Thea
Fitz's eyes scan the perfect penmanship and then search for the wall clock. It's barely 9:15pm.
"We should talk about what happened, Livvie."
"I shouldn't have hit her. It was childish. I don't think there's much to talk about."
He can hear the hurt in her voice and knows that it's time for him to proceed with caution. He knows she isn't as okay as she wants to be. Especially when it comes to Russell or mentions of the man that was once her reprieve.
"You know you can talk about Russell with me, Liv. I won't judge. Remember last night? You told me you're falling in love with me. The feeling is mutual. I'm falling in love with you, too. Talk to me. Please. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that my aunt's gone for another two hours and I don't want to talk."
He stares at her for a moment, a somber smile on his face. Déjà vu. He's starting to see a pattern with Olivia when there's something bothering her. "I don't think sex will solve anything."
"I don't want to solve it; I just want to forget."