Love's Awakening (18 page)

“
S
he can—she deserves to date people. To have her own life. As long as, uh…I don’t know.”

Brown marble eyes. Time for Oliver to shut up.

Oliver wheeled his father back to the room. No Shirley yet. Oliver bent down and kissed David on the forehead. “I love you, Dad. Very much. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before the wreck.”

David’s eyes drooped shut. Falling asleep.

Shirley returned a few minutes later. “Anything happen?”

“Dad saw a robin.”

Shirley beamed. “That’s wonderful! He’s improving.”

*****

Celia was worried about her mother-in-law, so the next time Celia was at Pinewood, she suggested a trip to Shirley. “You, me and Caleb. We’ll go somewhere for a weekend to relax and recharge our batteries.”

“I can’t leave David. What if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen. Come on. You know you need a break. I’ll take care of the arrangements.”

“I can’t leave David,” Shirley repeated. “Something might happen.”

“Forget a weekend. How about a one-night trip?” Celia had to admit the trip would be just as much for her as for Shirley. Celia needed a change of scenery. Fresh air. Something to help get her mind off Oliver. Oliver and his hard penis, Oliver with his sighs and little moans, Oliver who looked at her in that
intense
way as she mounted him and rode him.

“I need to be here for David,” Shirley argued.

Celia looked into Shirley’s eyes. Steadfast. Resolute. She would not go anywhere. “Okay,” Celia said. “Let me know if you change your mind. Anytime.”

*****

Oliver was surprised to get a package from Celia two weeks after their night together. They had not talked since. Oliver had been too scared to contact her, afraid he might tell Celia too much. Come across too strongly:
I
think
I
love
you,
Celia,
I
love
you,
take
your
damn
clothes
off
already
and
let
me
show
you
how
much
I
love
you…

The package revealed a black three-ring binder and a note.

Oliver:

You might remember in one of my letters, I said I would write down what I remember your father telling me about your mother. I haven’t slacked on that. I’ve been writing stories since that time, and now I think I am finished. Some good stories in the binder. Some funny stuff. Some is what you might call questionnaire information, but I didn’t want to leave anything out. My questionnaire information might not be your questionnaire information. I’ll email you the file, too. If I remember more stories, I’ll email you these too. But I think I have them all.

- Celia

P.S. I’m worried about your grandmother. I suggested a weekend trip, thinking it would help her to get away from your dad. She would not even consider a one-night trip. Maybe your grandmother will be more receptive to you. Take off a weekend, or even a night, to be with her if you can.

Oliver thumbed through the sheets. Fifty pages, looked like double spaced Times New Roman, 12-point font.

You
shouldn’t
have,
Celia.

The first story started:

David and I went to Nanjing, a Chinese restaurant, for our first date. (Side note: The health department closed Nanjing the next day. I’ve always wondered if the chicken that tasted “off” was really rat.) Okay, maybe technically it wasn’t a date. David had asked me out so I could give him tips on how he could better land clients—what his nervous tics were, etc. In any case, it wasn’t the best outing. Our conversation didn’t flow.

Near the end of dinner, though, we got to talking about personal stuff. He mentioned he’d been married. His wife died of leukemia when their son was very young.

The change in David was immediate. He went from a somewhat aloof lawyer to warm and glowing. “My son is more like his mother than like me,” David said. “Thank goodness.”

“What was your wife like?” I asked.

David scrutinized me in this piercing way. “Do you believe in soul mates?”

“Not really.”

“Me either. But Therese made me believe. I miss her every day, and…I don’t remember her voice.” David teared up.

When David asked me if we could have dinner again, I almost said no. He was older. Too old for me, or so I thought. His son was my age. But my gut told me to give it another try. This was a complex man, a man who knew how to love. So I said yes.

*****

Celia got a letter from Oliver a few days later.

Celia:

Thank you for the binder. You shouldn’t have, but I really appreciate it. I got this weekend off from work. I had to beg and turn on my Oliver charm full throttle, but I got it done. I’ll guilt-trip Grandma into going somewhere. You’re right that she needs a break from Dad.

Anyway, I went to a wedding yesterday: Shannon Stallings’s wedding. In case you do not remember, Shannon is Paul and Erin’s biological mother. I should’ve asked you to come with me. Don’t know why I didn’t. I’ve missed you.

Well, anyway, it’s funny how relationships develop, isn’t it? At the reception, Shannon’s brother said that when Shannon was born, she was so ugly her mama asked the doctor to put her back in. Nervous laughter followed. Nervous because Shannon used to be this—okay, I’ll be honest—the joke had some basis in truth. Now she’s this curvy sexy svelte woman.

So I was eleven and in sixth grade. I was new to the middle school, and a bunch of bigger guys were crowding around this girl, calling her names and stuff. Calling her fat, calling her the “n” word. I intervened and got a couple of black eyes for it. That’s how Shannon and I met, and we were inseparable until she got pregnant.

I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten all cocky and knight-in-shining-armor-y. Would Shannon and I have become friends? Would the kids be here?

Because of a group of bullies, because of one minute where a stupid eleven-year-old boy decided to swoop to the rescue, Shannon Stallings and I have a strange, lifelong relationship, and I went to her wedding.

I hope to get married someday. Wonder if Shannon will be at my wedding. I hope Paul, Erin, Malcolm and Sherelle are too. Here’s what I really wonder, though: Will Shannon and I be invited to Paul’s and Erin’s weddings? I hope so. I really do.

Thank you again for the binder. I’ve read everything. I’ll call soon, and we can do something. Or not. Just, you know, whatever.

-Oliver

Chapter
Sixteen

“No,” Shirley said.

“No?” Oliver furrowed his brows. “Grandma, I cleared my weekend for you. Do you know how hard that was? I got—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“You want this the hard way, fine. I’ll ninja you to the ground and drag you to my car. You
are
going out of town with me this weekend, and we’ll have fun. Capisce?”

Shirley permitted a teeny smile. “Ostinati bambino.”

“What?”

“Italian for ‘stubborn child.’ “

“You know Italian?”

“I know ‘stubborn child’ in many languages. I used to say it all the time to your father. Got him to be quiet for a few minutes.”

“Smart.”

Shirley sighed and glanced at David. “All right, Oliver. All right. You win. I surrender. Peacefully. No ninja action necessary.”

“Awesome.”

“I want to spend time with Caleb, anyway. I miss giving him his bottle.”

“What? Celia is coming?”

Shirley cocked an eyebrow. “This was her idea, wasn’t it?”

“Well, it…uh, yeah, it was her idea but...sure. No problem. I’ll give her a call.”
A
weekend
with
Celia?
And
Caleb
and
Grandma?
Talk
about
torture.

Oliver would call Celia, and they would agree it was best if she did not go on the trip. Celia could feign being sick at the last minute, and that would be that.

Or was the idea childish? Oliver and Celia were adults. What was the big deal if Celia went on the trip? They could act fine and stiff and distant around each other.
Right.
Right.

*****

“So,” Oliver said, “What do you think?”

Sherelle Thompson nodded her approval. “It’s fine. Nice little place. Where will my daughter sleep?”

“She can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in the living room. Or vice versa. I won’t make Erin sleep in the kitchen sink.”

Sherelle did not laugh, and Oliver cleared his throat. “I appreciate this,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

“I know.”

Sherelle held out her hand. “I’ll let you know when’s a good time for Erin to sleep over. Goodbye, Oliver.”

Oliver took Erin’s mother’s hand. “Bye, Sherelle.” He hated the distance between himself and Sherelle. The frost was Oliver’s fault, of course. Oliver was the one who stopped coming to see the children. The one who stopped answering phone calls. The one who was off presumably enjoying a fresh new life in college. The one who jumped into Europe for three years, brought back nary a souvenir and then waited some time before reappearing in the kids’ lives.

Oliver walked Sherelle to her car. “I’ll be out of town this weekend with family,” he said. “Cell service is spotty where I’ll be. In case you call and can’t get in touch.”

Sherelle smiled coolly. As if to say:
Like
I’d
call.

*****

Oliver was behind the wheel for the nearly four-hour drive to the Peaks of Otter Lodge in Bedford County, Virginia. The ride down was awkward in some ways. Invisible ice separated him and Celia, and Oliver wanted to reach out and touch Celia. Kiss her. Hold her.

In other ways, the ride was not bad. Shirley taught Oliver and Celia how to say “stubborn child” in twelve languages.

They arrived and checked in. Oliver had a room to himself, while Shirley, Celia and Caleb shared a second room.

At the lodge restaurant, they took a table with a perfect view of the man-made lake and Flat Top, one of the mountains for hiking.

“You two should hike tomorrow,” Shirley said. “I’ll watch Caleb.”

“Sure.” Oliver gazed out the window. The prospect of being alone with Celia caused his cock to harden and his heartbeat to quicken. A stolen, sweaty encounter in the woods, pushing Celia up against a tree and having his way with her…

Dusk gradually turned over to night. The lake’s waters were placid and still. Oliver figured that most people would perceive peacefulness and serenity. Not him. He saw his father’s blank, lifeless eyes. He shuddered, wanting to banish the thought. “Excuse me. I’m going to the bathroom.” He made his way across the dining room and headed downstairs.

He splashed cold water on his face and studied his reflection in the mirror. What was this? A lake, his father’s eyes?
Go
back
to
the
beautiful
woman
waiting
for
you.
The
beautiful
woman
you’re
scared
of.

*****

After dinner, the foursome went for a walk around the lake. Shirley, Celia and Oliver took turns pushing Caleb. The moon afforded some visibility, balancing out the lack of night lights.

“I should call Pinewood before we go back to our rooms,” Shirley said after one lap around the lake.

“Pinewood has the number. They’ll call if something happens,” Oliver pointed out.

“What if they lost the number?”

Oliver scratched his cheek. “All right, Grandma. You’re right. Call and check on Dad.”

“This trip was a bad idea,” Shirley said, her voice trembling.

Celia took Shirley’s hand. “It will be—”

“What if David has a stroke and I’m not there, or—”

“He’s fine,” Celia said reassuringly.

“He has another urinary tract infection.”

“And it’ll go away like the others did,” Oliver put in.

“You think I like this?” Shirley snapped. Her eyes, glowing and accusing, studied Celia and Oliver. “Well, do you? You think I like being like this? I’m pathetic. I know it. I drove away my husband. But David is my
child.
He’s part of me.”

Oliver did not know what to say. Neither did Celia, apparently, because she kept quiet.

“Look, deer,” Oliver said. Four deer stood about fifteen feet away. Looked like two does and two fawns. “Hey,” Oliver whispered. “Used to people, are you? Come here.” He took a tiny step toward the deer, and they leaped off.
Oh
well.

Oliver glanced up at the sky. “It’s a nice night. We don’t get this back home.”

“I’m going to call Pinewood,” Shirley said. “See you back at the rooms.”

Oliver’s stomach knotted as Shirley retreated.

“She’s right,” Celia whispered. “This trip was a bad idea. I should’ve known this would happen.”

“Wasn’t a bad idea, okay? Look, I thought maybe once we were out of town, Grandma would…I don’t know. Get drunk on the fresh air or something.”

Celia laughed. “The fresh air here is low in alcoholic content.”

“I missed hearing your laugh,” Oliver said.

Celia’s smile increased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“La!” Caleb.

Oliver reached down and hauled the baby up as a natural barrier between him and Celia. Damn, the kid was heavy. “Has he gained a hundred pounds?”

Another laugh from Celia, deeper.

“I’m ready for Dad to die,” Oliver said, the abruptness surprising him. “I’m tired of this waiting. This limbo. Is that horrible?”

“Of course not,” Celia whispered.

“It’s what Grandma needs, too. To move on with her life.” Oliver let out a sigh. “Anyway, we gonna hike tomorrow?”