Olivia swung her legs to the side of the bed and sat there for a minute trying to decide if she was ready to get up or not. It would be so simple to curl up in her mother's soft bed and go back to sleep, avoiding the world a little longer.
Sleep had avoided her for quite a while after Fitz had left. He had been such a comfort to her when she needed it most and it had helped her get through a rough night. Unloading her emotions, combined with lack of sleep had left her feeling weary. She vaguely remembered hearing sounds outside the house not long after she'd gotten settled into bed. Or had she dreamed that?
On a loud yawn, she stretched her arms above her head and wondered what time it was. Like it or not, she was awake now. Might as well get on with her day. There was a lot to do.
Giving a resigned sigh, she got to her feet and trudged downstairs, heading straight for the coffee pot, and then went to relieve her bladder. After washing her hands, she stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She looked tired. A line ran across her left cheek from the wrinkles in the sheet she'd slept on. Her make up had never been washed off the night before, leaving behind smears and smudges from last night's tears.
Deciding to start the day feeling better about herself, she reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water until the spray felt invitingly hot. She stripped where she stood, grabbed a towel from under the sink door, plopped it on top of the toilet tank cover, and stepped into bliss.
Closing her eyes, she let the water fall down on every inch of her skin. Crying last night may have left her feeling clean on the inside, but the outside needed a good scrub. She took her time washing herself from head to foot as the water pellets rained down on her heated skin. When she was all clean and felt like a new woman, Olivia turned the water off and stepped into the now foggy bathroom.
She wrapped the towel around her body and tucked the damp but fuzzy edge between her breasts, effectively holding it in place. Another towel was plucked from the cabinet, and she wrapped her hair up inside it. The door was pulled open to allow the cooler air into the smaller room to get the fog off the mirror.
After pulling up a pair of panties and hooking her bra into place, she dropped the towel and rifled through the clothes that were still in her suitcase. She happily grabbed a pair of white shorts and a t-shirt and put them on just as the coffee maker beeped, signaling it was ready. She took her phone off the charger and slid it into her back pocket before going to the kitchen and making herself a cup of morning magic.
Taking a sip, she hummed appreciatively and headed to the front door.
"This humidity is the worst!" she grumbled under her breath as she stepped outside.
The air was fresh though, not like the smog spewing from all manners of automobiles and buildings in D.C. that she drove alongside to get to work. It was super quiet here too. Nothing like the constant loud shouts, honks, and jackhammering the city graciously provided every morning.
She leaned against the familiar yet weird metal gate and closed her eyes. The birds were singing their pretty songs as they moved around overhead or perched on branches in nearby trees. A dog barked from what sounded like several houses away, and a gentle breeze ruffled her still damp hair.
"I could get used to this." she uttered to herself.
The quiet was interrupted by a light tapping sound coming from behind her. With a crinkled brow, Liv turned her head quickly, half expecting to see someone standing there. The sight that greeted her was something completely unexpected.
There on the far side of the front door, hanging from the ceiling of the porch was a beautiful, stained, wooden swing.
The chains holding it suspended in the air were the color of gold and was the perfect accent against the rich warm brown of the wood. The back of the swing tilted back at an angle in a way that made it look very relaxing to sit on. Almost like a swinging wooden recliner. It looked so inviting.
The warm breeze blew again gently swaying the edge of the porch swing into the house. Not enough to do any damage to either, but just enough to make a sound. Before Olivia could even fathom a guess as to where the swing came from, her eye caught a blue ribbon tied in the middle of the golden chain.
Grasping the ribbon, she untied the neat little bow and freed the note attached to it. In male handwriting it read:
Let your hair blow in the breeze
From your favorite
A huge grin covered her face and she squealed with glee. When did Fitz have time to put this swing up? How did he even know she wanted one? Jenson must have told him. There was no other explanation.
She wasn't going to think about it any longer. Turning around she moved until the swing hit the back of her legs and she sat down. Her fingertips trailed along the smooth wooden grain of the seat. When her eyes fell onto the arm rest, she saw that it had a built in cup holder.
"Holy shit!" she squealed giddily. "He thought of everything!"
She sipped her cooling coffee, not caring in the slightest about its temperature. Leaning against the back of the swing, she once again closed her eyes and let her feet do the work to keep her moving. This was by far the best morning back.
There was no telling how long she had been out there but at some point, she had dozed off. She woke up startled, and her quick movement almost caused her to fall onto the pavement below. Her body was sprawled out on the swing, her legs in wide awkward positions, and her eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen her.
Olivia breathed a sigh of relief when she realized she was still alone. That was when she dropped her half filled coffee cup in her lap. Brown liquid colored her once white shorts and trailed down her leg to the concrete. Screeching loudly, she scrambled to her feet and watched the remnants of her drink drizzle down to her feet.
"Why can't I enjoy one damn cup of coffee outside this house without spilling it on myself?"
Grumbling to herself, Olivia went to get the water hose. After turning on the spicket, she unwound the green hose from the circle attached to the side of the house and pulled it behind her to the front porch. Once the concrete was sprayed clean, she had to go clean herself up.
Ten minutes and a quick change of clothes later, she was good to go. She went to the couch and pulled her computer onto her lap. After logging in, she began a Google search for urns.
There were so many different kinds! Wooden, ceramic, metal, stone. There were endless designs and colors to choose from as well. When she clicked on a link marked urns for mom there were even more variations to choose from. It was a bit overwhelming.
What if she made the wrong choice? Was that even possible?
The more Olivia scrolled, clicked, and inspected, the more confused she became. None of these seemed to be right for her mother. She brought the tip of her thumbnail between her teeth and began to nibble as she looked out the picture window, hoping for some inspiration for her dilemma.
Her eyes caught sight of the birds fluttering around the massive tree in the front yard. Silently she watched them for a long while. They were so carefree, flying around the yard without a worry in the world. They were beautiful too. Their different colors, inquisitive eyes, and their feathers looked like they felt like silk. Olivia observed them a little longer with a smile on her face, wondering why she had never watched birds before?
And then that inspiration came.
With much more enthusiasm, she turned in her seat on the couch and began typing a new search. She learned that the state bird of Tennessee is a mockingbird. Narrowing her search, she found a mint green urn with beautiful pastel flowers painted all around it. A mockingbird sat among the florals looking like he owned the place.
The more she looked at the image, the more it just felt right to Olivia. It had her mother's favorite color and the state bird of the place she wanted her ashes spread. After placing the order for the piece, she closed her laptop, and softly said, "I hope you like it momma."
Feeling some measure of accomplishment, she got up and decided to get out of the house for a while. She had no particular destination in mind. Just away from the house for a little bit. It was a beautiful day for a drive.
After driving a while, she found herself in the middle of town. Not a lot had changed here since she had left either, Olivia noticed. Most of the same stores were still in operation with a few new ones here and there. Overall, it looked exactly like it did when she left.
She passed numerous gas stations, dollar stores, and churches before she saw the all too familiar golden arches every kid knows by name. When her stomach rumbled, she decided why not, and pulled into the drive through.
At her turn, she placed her order, drove around the building to pay, and waited until her food was passed to her through a small window. She was sent off with a 'have a nice day' by a friendly employee and Olivia replied, "you too" before driving away.
Once her food was gone, she decided to go into the grocery store to grab a few things. Opting for a basket instead of a cart, she wandered the aisles and placed what she needed inside and went to pay.
The front of the store had a small mountain of empty boxes near the shopping carts. After paying the cashier, she asked, "are those boxes available to anyone?"
"Yes, ma'am. Anyone who wants 'em can have 'em." the cashier told her in a bored tone.
"Thanks." Remembering the words from the fast food worker, she added, "have a nice day."
"It'll be a nice one when I leave this place in two hours." Olivia was told.
There really wasn't anything to say in reply to that, so Olivia gave a smile and turned to leave. And bumped into a man pushing a cart full of Gatorade. The plastic bag she had just been given by the cashier slipped from her fingertips and fell to the floor. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she gushed quickly.
"Shit! I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. Lemme help you with that." He squatted down to help, but Olivia was quicker and had the plastic bag handles back in her hand. "Are you okay?"
"Yea, I'm fine. Tha..."
"Riley! Ryder! Get your tails over here. Now!" The man shouted, now standing up.
Olivia stood up beside the loud stranger as her head swiveled to look at whoever he was shouting at.
Two young boys, about six years old, appeared out of thin air laughing loudly. Olivia recognized them as some of the kids from the Grant house the night she borrowed coffee.
Great.
Looking up at the slightly taller man she boldly asked, "Hollis?"
The man ignored her for the moment and instead said to the boys, "what did I tell you about running around the store like that? Someone could grab you and take you away."
"Yea, like that would happen." One of the twins said.
"They'd probably bring us right back." The other one chimed in.
You're probably not wrong about that, Olivia added to herself. Clearing her throat, she waited until he looked at her. When he did, he just stared at her.
"So?"
"So, what?" he asked impatiently.
This guy was hard work. Resisting an eye roll she politely repeated, "Hollis Grant?"
"Yea. Do I know you?"
"You used to. I lived across the street from you a very long time..."
"Olivia? Is that you?" He was studying her face now as if trying to reconcile the shy book loving girl he once knew with the beautiful woman standing before him.
"It is." Looking for anything to talk about she asked, "are these your boys?"
He grinned proudly. Pointing at one and then the other he said, "Yea, these are my twins. Riley and Ryder."
Hollis' boys appeared to be identical twins. Both had short wavy brown hair and blue eyes. There was a hint of mischief in both sets of eyes, but no meanness. They were absolutely adorable, and she instantly loved their unique names.
"Looks like you have your hands full." The schoolteacher in her had Olivia kneeling down to their level and introducing herself. "Hey guys. My name is Olivia. I used to live across the street from your dad when I was your age."
The identical boys looked at each other with wide eyes. "You did?"
"I sure did. We went to the same school together and I waited for the bus every morning with your dad and your three uncles."
Ryder gave Olivia a confused look. "But you don't live there anymore cause grandma said Miss Naoimi died. Did you know her?"
She nodded. "She was my mother."
Out of nowhere, Riley slowly took a step into Olivia's arms and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry your mommy died. She was a real nice lady."
Taken aback, Olivia held onto him for a moment. This was not the action of a typical Grant boy. It was a heartfelt hug, and his simple act made her feel good. "Thank you for the hug. That made me feel better."
"Did you move away?" Riley asked, still wanting to know more about this person.
"Yep. I moved to a different state when I was a little older than you." She glanced up at Hollis who was smiling and patiently listening to the exchange between his sons and his former neighbor. "I'll be here for a few weeks and then I'll go back to where I live."
"Where do you work?" Riley asked.
Olivia grinned at the boys. "I'm a teacher at a school with kids about your age."
Riley groaned loudly, sharing his displeasure for teachers. "Teachers are so boring!"
"Nah uh! Uncle Fitz is a teacher and he's not boring!" Ryder shot back with a smile. "He's fun!"
"Do you know Uncle Fitz?" Riley asked.
"Okay, gentlemen." Hollis began. The very last place he wanted to go was down the Fitz and Olivia road. He'd had enough of that when they were kids. "We've bothered Olivia long enough. Besides, we've got to get to soccer practice."
Both boys cheered loudly.
"It was good to see you Liv. I'm really sorry to cut this reunion short, but we 've really got to go. I'm the coach, so it looks bad if I'm late." The boys were already pulling him towards the sliding doors of the store. He stopped walking for a second. "Stop by mom's house sometime before you head back to D.C. We'd all love to catch up with you sometime."
Who was this man standing in front of her? Hollis Grant was being...nice to her? Polite even! Deciding to be polite herself and maybe a bit daring she said, "That would be nice. But how would I know when you'd all be there?"
He shot her a toothy grin and said, "just listen for the noise. The four of us are all over there most nights for dinner. Stop by and eat with us. Mom would love to see you."
"Okay." She heard herself say. "Bye guys! Have fun at practice."
"Bye, Olivia!" They said in unison. "Come ON, dad!"
Grabbing her plastic bag of items, she went to the cardboard boxes and grabbed two. She carried them out to her car and put them in the trunk. Deciding to get a few more, she went back inside, grabbed four, and carried them to the car, throwing them in the backseat.
She wasn't really in the mood to pack up her mother's house, but time would slip by her quickly if she didn't stay on top of the things she knew she needed to accomplish. She'd start with the stuff that would be easy to get rid of. The guest bathroom, her bedroom, the crap in the garage, small appliances she knew she wouldn't use during her stay there. It sounded simple really.
Upon entering the house with the four boxes from the backseat, Olivia promptly dropped them to the floor and sighed. "Don't stop and think about it. Just get busy." she ordered herself.
Carrying one box upstairs, she entered her childhood bathroom, which was now the guest bath. All unnecessary items went into the first box. Ragged towels and facecloths, a soap dispenser, everything in the cabinet under the sink. A few things got thrown away and the rest got boxed up to be donated. The cabinet was empty when she was done with it.
The only thing left in the bathroom was one good towel and the shower curtain – besides the toiletries she had brought with her from D.C.
She was feeling good about herself when she carried the box downstairs and deposited it against the wall near the front door. Keeping her momentum going, Olivia grabbed another empty box and jogged upstairs into her own bedroom. She plopped the box on her bed and went straight to her closet. "There is no telling what's in here" she muttered to herself as she pulled the white door open.
Instead of a closet full of clothes, shoes, and whatever else a young impressionable teenaged girl might have in her closet, Olivia saw empty space. There were no clothes hung up, waiting to be worn again. No shoes lying on the bottom of the closet collecting dust or housing spiders. All of her personal things were gone. The entire closet was empty.
Her eyes scanned the floor of the small closet where once upon a time her shoes stood in a straight line side by side like twin soldiers ready for battle. Pretty soldiers, Olivia's mind corrected.
Snapping herself out of the reminiscent funk her brain wanted to linger on, she almost convinced herself that it was better this way. That there was less to go through. Less to pack up. Her mother had just saved her some time. Try as she might to feel that way, she just couldn't reconcile the common sense with the hurt by seemingly being erased from her mother's house.
Why would she do that? Had Naomi decided after some time passed that Olivia was never coming back and therefore wouldn't need the things that used to be in her closet? That made the most sense. Why would a grown woman need or even want clothing and shoes that she wore at fourteen? She wouldn't.
To be erased completely felt like another betrayal by her mother though. Naomi hadn't thrown out the family photos and hadn't painted the door frame of her daughter's growth progress. Why the closet? The room itself was the same, but the closet remained empty. Olivia could feel the same empty feeling creeping inside her too. It felt like whenever she gained some small kernel of understanding about her mother it was immediately taken from her, and she was left with more confusion and pain than before. That was exactly why she had wanted to make this trip short and sweet. No memory lane. No reconnections. It was too damned difficult.
Shutting the door with fresh determination, Olivia murmured, "it's for the best."
The books she had accumulated throughout her childhood had filled one box already and had her very close to having a second one filled. She had no idea that she'd owned so many books, but packed boxes don't lie. These she would keep and take back to D.C. The idea of getting rid of them never entered her mind. Some could be shared with her students, and some could stand side by side with the ones on her bookshelves at home.
From her spot on the floor, the last book she picked up from the shelf in her purple bedroom was her all time favorite as a kid. If she was honest with herself, it was still her favorite. Pride and Prejudice. Holding onto its spine, her thumb ran across it's well worn cover. This book had kept her company many nights well after bedtime, during summer breaks, and long car rides.
She loved everything about this book. The way the story flowed, the wordage used, the twists in the story itself. And the love story. Every feeling, every descriptive scene, every moment. Liv pictured herself there among the Bennet family, watching things unfold. Giggling with the sisters, watching their mother stress about any and everything, exploring the countryside. It made her feel less alone in her big house.
Opening the cover, she saw the words she had written just inside at age twelve.
I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel - Maya Angelou
Her fingers lightly ran over the words her twelve year old self had written, thinking she knew what she was talking about. And maybe she did, some. Olivia smiled as she re-read the quote of the world renowned writer. Her words meant just as much to Olivia today as they did back then, and she silently thanked her younger self for reminding her of the validity of the quote.
As she thought about how the book made her feel when she was younger, Olivia thumbed through the pages. Some were dog eared and a little tattered from the many times she had read it. When she got to the back cover, she frowned.
There was a white envelope folded in half there. As a kid, it wasn't unusual for her to leave notes or old homework assignments in place of a bookmark. But this wasn't faded yellow from time. In fact, it looked fairly new. This was something entirely different. Inspecting it closer, and not recalling what it could be, she dropped the book into her lap and carefully unfolded the envelope.
There were several pages of paper folded up inside the envelope. Her fingers worked quickly, opening them until the first page was open before her. A small gasp was the only noise inside the house as Olivia's eyes fell onto the words written neatly in familiar cursive that belonged to her mother.
My dearest Olivia,
I don't really know how to begin this letter. Funny that of all the people in the world, I am struggling to write a letter to my own daughter. I wish I could have said all of these things to you, but I don't know that you would have heard me. I don't know if I would have had the courage to say them to you face to face either. Maybe this is easier. Maybe this is the coward's way.
I'm sorry. I'm rambling.
Olivia dropped the pages to her lap on top of the envelope that had folded itself back in half. Her brown eyes darted around the room as a rush of emotions coursed through her body. What the hell was this?
When had she written the letter? And why?
There was no date on the front page of the letter itself to provide that information. In that instant, a childhood memory slammed into her mind at warp speed. Olivia recalled that whenever her mother would send out birthday, anniversary, or Christmas cards to friends and family, she would write the date that she mailed them on the inside of the envelope under the flap.
Picking up the envelope from underneath the pages filled with writing on both sides of the paper, she once again unfolded it. There, in pencil, was in fact, a date.
February 29, 2024
She dropped it instantly as if it had bitten her. What the hell was going on? Why had her mother written her a letter and left it in this particular book? What was it she felt the sudden urge to say to her daughter?
Was this her mother's way of easing her guilt for not contacting her for fifteen long years? Maybe she was going to say a bunch of shit about her father in an attempt to get in her daughter's good graces?
Leaving the envelope and pages on the floor, she scooted away from it all and got to her feet. That's when she started pacing around her room. Every so often she would glance down at the papers on the floor, shake her head back and forth in confusion, and nibble on her fingernail.
This was insane.
Why did she pack up her room today of all days? Why hadn't she left it for last? Now she had more to deal with than she had when she woke up; and she had accomplished a lot.
Her feet stopped moving, but the nail stayed between her teeth as she stared holes into the pages.
After a few minutes, she dropped her hand, closed her eyes, and thought about what she wanted to do. She could gather it all up and throw it into the trash, forgetting it ever existed. Or she could read the words her mother intended for her to see.
A long minute passed. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and stated, "this is gonna require wine. Lots of wine!"
Once she had emptied a half a stemmed glass in the kitchen and re-filled it, she grabbed the bottle and her glass and went back up the stairs and into her bedroom. Not wanting to give into the temptation of chickening out, she sat back down on the floor and picked everything back up, letting it sit in her lap.
She took another gulp of wine.
With her wine glass firmly clutched in her hand, she opened the folded pages once again. Finding the place where she had left off, she resumed reading.
I've wanted to talk to you for a while. I know a lot of time has passed now, and that you probably don't want to hear from me. I understand that. I'm not going to play the blame game and lay everything that happened fifteen years ago at the feet of your father. I'm sure he has given you his side of the events of the past ever since the night you both left here. I would like the chance to give you mine.
First of all, I love you. I've always loved you. I missed you every day that you were gone. Life wasn't the same after you and your father left. I missed you terribly. My heart ached to be near my baby.
I'm sure you're thinking that if I missed you so much, why didn't I reach out to you after you left. I did! I called your father's cell phone every day for months, trying to talk to you or get any information about you. How you were doing? Could you come visit me? My calls always went to voicemail and were never returned. I was so worried about you. Not because you were unsafe with your father, but because you weren't with me.
I sent you birthday cards, Christmas cards, cards and letters for no reason at all, just to check in. I hoped I might get a reply from at least one of them. And then one day I did.
Your father called me one day out of the blue after you'd been gone a little over a year. I was so excited, thinking I was finally going to be able to talk to you – even if only for a few minutes. His voice was full of warning. I was told to stop sending cards and stop trying to contact you. That I would never talk to you again.
I told him that wasn't going to happen. That I'd double the number of cards, letters and phone calls. I'd get on a plane and track you both down. I was told to not waste my time because he was holding onto all of the correspondence that I sent. And if he got so much as an inkling that I was in D.C. he would move, and I would never know where you were. Instead, he made an alternative offer. He would send me updates on what you were doing and how you were in exchange for me not trying to contact you again.
Initially, I told him to go to hell! Told him that he had no right to keep me from my own daughter, no matter what had gone wrong between the two of us. You were not at fault, and he shouldn't be taking his anger out on me this way. But he wouldn't hear of it.
So, I had a choice to make. Several of them as you continue to read. Get updates about your life on his terms or get no updates at all – which I was already getting. As much as I didn't want him controlling my contact with you, the truth was he already was. I don't know when or if he ever told you about the letters and cards, but they existed. I had no other alternative. I agreed to his demand.
The things that happened between me and your father had nothing to do with you. I know you're a grown woman by now, but in case your dad never told you that, I wanted you to hear it from one of us.
We had been having problems for a while before the two of you left for D.C.
I won't speak of the things your father did, but I will tell you all of my mistakes. The things I have done wrong that played a great part of our marriage falling apart. You don't have to believe me, but I will certainly feel better knowing that I gave you the truth.
A few months before you and your father left Georgia, I discovered something that rocked me to my core. I didn't know how to process it. This was something that could alter our lives forever and completely shatter the three of us. I was desperate to keep my family together, because I loved your father and you were, and still are, the most important thing in my life.
I had to make a decision, and I made a foolish one. I told your father that I was pregnant even though I wasn't. Even now that seems like the most ridiculous thing I could have ever done, but at the time, it seemed like the only thing I could do in light of our circumstances.
Your father learned the truth, and he exploded in anger. Not at what he had done to lead me to this point, but at my lie. That was the night you both left.
All I can say to you about it is I'm sorry that something I did played a part in you leaving. That is the heaviest guilt and I have carried around with me for fifteen long lonely years. I'm not looking for pity, and I wouldn't blame you for not having any for me. I just wanted you to know my side of things.
That's all I can say about that without putting some of the blame on your father, and in doing so I would have to tell you his part in this story. As easy as that would be for me to do, it's not my place. It's his.
Besides, I have made my peace with him. Things didn't turn out the way I wanted them to, but life rarely does.
I put this letter inside this particular book because you used to read it quite often. I know it was a favorite of yours, so I knew you'd find the letter eventually. I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you as you grew up, on holidays to make them special memories, on your high school and college graduation, even just the regular the day to day. I have missed you something terrible these past fifteen years and I have never stopped loving you or thinking about you.
Fitz showed me how to use the internet several years ago and I was able to get information about you that way. I'm so proud of you for becoming a teacher. I always knew you'd do something amazing with your sharp mind. Helping kids find their full potential is amazing work and I know you are phenomenal with those babies.
That brings me to a few other things I want to talk to you about.
I am dying of cancer, Liv. I've known I had it for almost a year, but the cancer has stopped reacting to the chemo and radiation. It's spread throughout my body and it's in my bones. It's not what I planned, but it is what it is. I'll probably be gone by the time you find this letter and I've made my peace about that the best that I can. As much as I would like to have gotten to see you one last time, I am content with knowing you grew up to a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart for others. That brings me more healing than any medicine could.
I am leaving everything I have to you; the one person I love wholeheartedly and without reservation. I don't expect you to stay here but know that my house is your house now. Do what you want with it. Nothing would make me happier than knowing you are happy.
My last request from you is to take my ashes to Tennessee. I know that sounds like a strange thing to ask someone you haven't seen or spoken to in years, but I'd like to go back where I came from. Once you cross the state line, you can do what you want. I won't know the difference anyway. If you would please do this last thing for me, I'll be eternally gratefully, Liv.
I'll be watching over you. Making sure you know you're not alone when you feel like you might be. I'll be in the wind, blowing you kisses like I did when you were little. I love you so much baby. Never forget that.
Love,
Momma
Olivia dropped the pages with tear splashes on every sheet. That was a lot of information to absorb all at once. For the first time in a long time, Olivia yearned for her mother to be in the same room with her. To elaborate on all of this much more. To just hold her close as she cried for a woman who wasn't elusive or uncaring – as she had been told as a kid.
And what had her father been thinking all those years ago, feeding her lies about her mother? Insisting that she cared nothing for her own daughter and no interest in her whatsoever! It made her want to hear his side of the story – the true side - and find out what exactly had happened between them that had caused this separation. She had to know the truth!
She was deep in thought, pages scattered on her lap, when a knock at the door sounded. Her first reaction was annoyance. Deciding to ignore it until whoever it was went away seemed like the best way to avoid it.
The knocking persisted and grew more impatient. For two minutes it continued and showed no signs of letting up. She sat there with her eyes closed and sipped her dwindling wine.
Whoever it was wasn't letting up and knocked once more.
Full of rage as well as a million other emotions, Olivia flew down the stairs, jerked the door open, and screamed, "WHAT?"
Fitz stood on the other side of the doorframe and calmly looked at her. "I get greeted at this door by you in the most interesting ways."
Olivia sighed wearily. "What do you want Fitz?"
"I asked you if I could come by this afternoon and you told me I could. Are you...alright?"
"Not really. It's been a hell of a day, and I don't really feel like company. Sorry." She replied wearily.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Go home. Look, I'm not trying to be mean or rude, but I'm not in a good head space for company tonight."
"You weren't in a good head space for it last night either but..."
"Fitz? I'm trying really hard to be polite, but it's wearing thin. Please leave me alone, okay?"
"You sure?"
"Get the hell out of here!" She shouted.
"Okay. Nite, Liv."
She angrily muttered, "Jesus" before slamming the door in his face and retreating into the house.
A/N - I know there are a lot more questions than answers here now, but the next chapter will give Robert's side of the story. This was the best way I could think of for Liv's mom to explain her part of the family troubles and show how Liv had been lied to by her father once they left. Hopefully you'll stick with me & I'll be able to provide an entire clear picture of what happened by giving Robert's side of the story. If this isn't any good & you're not feeling it, no hard feelings. I'm not a professional writer but enjoy putting my favorite characters into sometimes strange settings. Thanks for leaving reading & leaving reviews. I truly appreciate them!