Dangerous Authority (16 page)

In this town…

In this world…

Leonora and George snuck looks at Olive and then looked down at their dinner plates. Not knowing what to do, they did the safe thing.

Nothing.

So, Olive started getting plastered whenever possible. She did it for the sole reason that there was absolutely no one who gave a shit.

***

By the time Olive became a senior, she skipped first period nearly every day, when she even bothered to show up at all. When she did report to class, she usually wore a smart ass grin, feeling like she got one over on the world because she'd been smoking reefer on country roads. Then she slouched in her seat drawing in her notebooks instead of paying attention.

Truth was, everybody knew, they just didn't care.

***

Late in the winter of Olive's senior year, the weather became unseasonably warm one weekend. Olive found herself able to stroll around her neighborhood in just a t-shirt, jeans, and sandals.

After spending a leisurely afternoon of doing not much of anything, she returned home to a pissed off Leonora because Olive had failed to complete a required chore. A minor scuffle ensued which ended in the same way they all did, with Olive isolating herself in her room and failing to communicate in any effective manner with her mother. Leonora was left in her usual state of confusion as to why her daughter demonstrated such bitter hostility over the slightest, most normal things. If Olive would ever just do what she was asked, Leonora could be easily satisfied but Olive resented being told what to do. If Leonora would ever just understand her daughter, Olive could feel loved and appreciated. But Olive's behavior stemmed from a secret, dark, and buried place from a lifetime ago, and because of Olive's silence, Leonora couldn't possibly understand. Failure to meet in the middle created an inevitable impasse.

So, on that late winter day, with the mellow hint of spring in the air, Olive sprawled across her bed and decided to write her mother a letter. She felt she could maybe get her feelings out on paper and make her mother understand her anger. She wrote furiously and passionately.

But failed to say what really needed to be shared.

She kept her secrets and remained a prisoner. All she gave to Leonora in that letter was more anger that Leonora could not understand. Then, she dropped it on the kitchen counter for her mother to find, and strolled back to her bedroom.

It wasn't long before she heard her mother crying.

Olive crept out her bedroom door far enough to see Leonora curled in a ball on the couch, hysterically sobbing into the couch cushions. George knelt beside her, attempting to get Leonora to come into his arms. But, Leonora would not be comforted, her body racked by loud, sickening sobs.

The little girl inside Olive reeled back; horrified at having done this to the mommy she loved. The angry young woman Olive had become retreated into her room, cheeks flushed and heart racing. She had written the letter with a nun's good intentions and a serial killer's tact. Misunderstood yet again.

Soon after dark, George's voice rang out through the quiet house. "Olive, come out here."

Olive emerged cautiously from her room to find her mom and step dad seated together on the couch in the living room, lit only by a dim lamp. Leonora's eyes were red and swollen from crying, but she sat calmly with her hands folded in her lap and George's arm protectively encircling her shoulder. Olive looked from Leonora to George and back again, and for a long time nobody said a word.

Finally, Leonora broke the silence. "You should move in with your dad."

Olive's mouth dropped open. "What? Mom? Jesus, I didn't mean that letter to piss you off!"

Leonora bolted off the couch, fury flashing on her face, obviously displeased with Olive's choice of language. "It’s not because you made me angry, it’s because I think you'd be happier with him." With that, Leonora moved to walk out of the room. Before Leonora disappeared down the dark hallway, she turned and glared at Olive. "But you should really watch writing things down in a letter because you can never, ever take it back." And then she vanished into the dark.

Still open-mouthed, Olive turned to face George. "More like you guys would be happier if I left," she spat bitingly.

As always, George's peaceful face remained impassive, revealing nothing of what might be going through his mind. "Olive, nobody wants you to leave. But you've made it abundantly clear how much you don't want to be here," he related in his serious but soothing way.

"You guys are something else," Olive boiled, having none of it from her stepfather.

"Look," George continued, standing up, "frankly, I am sick of you making your mother feel this way. It’s my job to protect your mother and make sure she doesn't get hurt." He snatched the cordless phone out of the cradle and thrust it toward her. "So, there you have it. Go call your dad."

Olive jerked the phone out of his hand and stalked furiously back to her room.

With shaking hands, Olive dialed her dad's phone number. A vicious roller coaster of emotions ravaged her stomach and tears burned in her eyes. Though a miserable failure, Olive's letter had been an attempt to bare her soul to her mother. Apparently, glimpses of Olive's soul or honest emotions provoked only anger. Olive felt desperately lonely and panic stricken at the threat of abandonment. Nobody could love Olive if she didn't make it easy for them…

"Hello?" Bill Childress mumbled his voice groggy as though she had awakened him.

"Hi, Dad," Olive replied.

"Olive?" Her dad instantly awakened and sounded concerned. "Olive, what's wrong baby, its late?"

Olive swallowed the lump in her throat. "Dad, I need to move in with you," she blurted.

"What," her dad exclaimed, now fully confused. "Well, honey, I-uh… Well, why? What's wrong?” he stammered.

Olive perched farther on the edge. She could sense this would not be the warm reception she had anticipated. She didn't know why it came as a shock to her that her dad wouldn’t want her either. "I don't know, Dad, they want me to move out," she responded coldly.

"Well, Olive, that's just not… It’s just that… Look, honey, can I talk to your mom?"

Without another word, Olive took the phone away from her ear and stalked out of her room. She barged into Leonora and George's room where Leonora lay in bed watching television. Olive tossed the phone onto the bed next to Leonora and then went back to her own room without saying anything.

After a long time, Leonora walked into Olive's room, holding Olive's car keys. "Your dad and I are going to work on getting you transferred to the school there. As soon as we get that done, you're moving out," Leonora informed Olive in a conversational manner as though discussing the weather. Olive glared at her mother. Leonora continued. "Until then, you can stay at your grandma's." With that, she handed Olive the car keys.

Olive's mouth dropped open again. "You're throwing me out tonight?"

Leonora sighed. "No, I am telling you to go straight from here to your grandma's and go to bed." Then, she spun on her heel and left the room. Olive scooped up her car keys and stormed out of the house in a blind fury.

Chapter 3

For a while, Olive drove around Shadow Dale aimlessly, swiping hot tears off her face. The world seemed huge and monstrous, lying in wait to swallow Olive whole.

When she noticed the lights glowing warmly in the windows of an apartment belonging to her school friend called Pip, and people laughing in the living room, she felt washed with relief. She had frequented the apartment for parties and knew she would be welcomed. She pulled over and parked her car.

Olive rushed from her car to the set of stairs leading up to the apartment nestled in the upstairs of a giant old house. She blustered in out of the night.

"Olive! Heeeey, what's up?” exclaimed Pip, a young man who had graduated the year prior greeting her warmly.

"Oh, not a whole lot," she replied. "Just having a rough night, saw you guys partying… I thought you might not mind the company?"

Pip smiled sympathetically and draped an arm casually over her shoulders. "Aw, hell yeah, Olive, glad you're here!" He reached into his refrigerator and produced a
Michelob
for her. "Beersky?" he asked.

"Shit yeah, thanks," she said, accepting the beer and taking a long swallow.

"Shotsky?" he asked, steering her toward the messy kitchen counter.

"Shit yeah!” she exclaimed again, with more enthusiasm. Pip was a great guy.

Olive proceeded to slam a few beers and several shots of
Jack Daniels
in quick succession. The party was rather low key, consisting of mostly boys and a few girls, a few of whom she knew with from school, but mostly strangers. Everybody chatted and laughed, listening to heavy metal music. Olive fully enjoyed the thundering rhythms and felt her troubles slipping away to the shadows of her mind.

As the night grew older, people came and went and largely went their separate ways into their own worlds. Nobody much cared if she stayed, or if she left for that matter. Eventually, a potent joint circulated amongst the remaining partygoers. Olive relaxed down into an overstuffed love seat and, at that point, ceased being a social entity with the others. She turned herself into an island, afloat inside the ocean of her own mind. She felt peaceful. She thought of everything beautiful and of nothing at all.

"Olive," came a quiet voice from far away. "Olive," stated the voice again, bringing Olive crashing back into reality. She turned to face the owner of the voice and stared into violently blue eyes in a porcelain complected face surrounded by silky, dark hair.

"Yeah," Olive responded.

"Don't you recognize me? It’s me, Mary!"

Olive shot bolt upright in her seat under the burden of a new storm of emotion raining down on her cloudy head. "Ho… Ly… Crap…" Olive breathed.

Mary erupted into sultry laughter and launched her arms around Olive, embracing her tightly. Olive encircled Mary, returning her hug. Tears cascaded openly down Olive's face.

Mary held Olive back at arm's length and gently wiped tears off her cheek. "Olive," Mary coddled, "why are you crying?"

"Oh, Mary," Olive sobbed, "I've just had such an awful night. You don't know how amazing it is to see you! I missed you! You never told me good-bye! I never thought I'd see you again!" Olive's words tumbled out, frenzied.

Mary wrapped Olive in another tight hug. "I'm sorry, Olive," she crooned, "please don't cry, I'm here now."

It occurred to Olive how strange it was to see Mary again out of the clear, blue sky in the middle of Shadow Dale on a Saturday night. "But, Mary… Why? Wh-what are you doing here?"

Mary waved her hand nonchalantly. "Oh, you know, I don't really live too far from here actually… I have a cousin here in Shadow Dale. I come to visit sometimes."

"Oh, ok, sure." In Olive's altered state, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation. "Can't believe I never ran into you before," Olive remarked, cheerfully.

The girls huddled together chatting as though not a day had gone by since they last spoke. Mary asked Olive a million questions about her life, without revealing much about her own. After a while, Olive momentarily excused herself to the lady's room. She felt more relaxed as she allowed herself to enjoy the comfort that Mary somehow brought her. Moments later, Olive returned to the living room to find it virtually empty. Specifically, Mary was absent. Olive hurried into the kitchen to find it empty. She looked out the window to the street below.

Mary was gone again.

Pip wandered into the kitchen behind Olive, his arm encircling the waist of a pretty girl from Olive's geometry class. "Hey, Olive, its late, think we're gonna hit the sack. You wanna crash on the couch?” he asked in a sleepy, friendly manner.

Olive still looked out the window. She forced her attention back to the present and turned to regard the party couple. "Uh…" she replied slowly, "uh, no thanks, I'll jet and get out of your hair. Thanks a lot though." As an afterthought, she added, "but hey, do you Guys know where Mary went?"

The couple looked at Olive strangely. "Um, no I don't know a Mary, honestly. But, I didn't know everybody who was here, so…" postulated Pip.

"Oh," Olive responded, perplexed. She asked Pip's girlfriend. "Do you know her, by chance?"

Pip's girlfriend smiled sympathetically. "No, sorry, Olive. Are you sure you don't wanna just stay here?"

"Nah, but thanks again. You guys are the best,” Olive testified as she stepped out into the night, which had grown considerably colder.

She drove the few blocks to her grandma's house, way too impaired to be behind the wheel. But, by the grace of God, she arrived without incident and snuck into the dark, silent house like a ghost.

***

Somehow, Olive's grandma Ruthie seemed not to have noticed Olive's extremely late arrival, nor did she comment about Olive sleeping the day away. She didn't really say much at all, they just co-existed for the day. Olive noticed her Grandmother Ruthie’s soft blue eyes secretively gazing over the top of her magazine at her a few times. Olive sensed grandma had plenty to say but simply stayed out of it instead. So, they watched television and quietly thumbed through magazines.

Sunday came and went, and Olive never heard a word from Leonora.

***

Monday morning arrived and Olive reported to school bright and early, wisely deciding not to push her luck with any tardiness or cutting of class. She felt a little embarrassed to be wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing since Saturday. She still wore sandals from the warmer day before, though the weather had returned to a much more typical February chill. The wind was bitterly cold on her bare arms and toes and the clouds where heavy with the threat of snow.

Olive sunk low in her seat throughout her classes. A troubled night's sleep full of nightmares the night before left her sleepy. She'd dreamt of Ryu Black for the first time in as long as she could remember.

Wondering what went on with her mom and when she might hear from Leonora again made Olive anxious and neurotic. Olive found it impossible to focus on schoolwork and lectures. Her mind reeled and she stayed quiet and tried to be invisible.

As she walked down the hallway outside the cafeteria directly following her lunch period, heading to her next class, she heard a girl comment on her choice of footwear for February.

The girl laughed obnoxiously. "Who wears sandals when it’s snowing?" she commented snidely to her companions.

The stress of the past days crushed Olive. In a motion so quick that Olive shocked herself, she advanced on the girl and smashed her forearm into the girl's throat, slamming her roughly against the wall. Olive's nose almost touched the girl's nose as she boiled, "You just shut the hell up."

Then, she released the girl and proceeded on her way down the hall. The girl shrieked in her wake, but Olive no longer cared. The anger went as fast as it came. It was the first violent thing Olive had ever done.

For some reason, it made her feel like Mary.

***

After school, Olive reported directly back to her grandma's house. She quietly sat drawing in a sketchbook at the kitchen table. Olive tried not to dwell on what was to come of her uncertain future. Fleetingly, her mind took her back to other times in the cheerful, white kitchen. A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered her handsome, silver haired Grandfather Ernest. Every afternoon, he'd sat at that same table, reading his paper, and smoking Marlboros with his small, white dog resting at his feet. How she'd loved her grandpa. It shamed Olive how disgusted he would be with her now if he were still alive. Olive wished for him now so much that her chest ached. Maybe he wouldn't be disgusted… Maybe he'd hold her and kiss her forehead and protect her. Olive still sometimes dreamt of him, and when she woke, she'd catch a slight hint of his unforgettable scent.

She also thought of other times in the kitchen. Rolling out homemade noodles on sheets of newspaper, all the card games, the laughter, and the tall tales. Would that all change? Would she be allowed to come back here? Would she ever see this place again?

Olive's Aunt Lydia entered the kitchen and took a seat across from Olive. "Hi, Olive," she said.

Olive looked at Lydia and then past her. "Hi, Lydia, is mom here with you?” she asked hopefully.

Lydia gave her a strange look Olive couldn't quite identify. Suspicion maybe? "Well, no, Olive. And since you brought it up, just what the hell do you think you're doing anyway?"

All the air rushed out of Olive like her lungs were balloons that were deflating. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?" Olive felt on the verge of hysterical tears, emotionally unprepared to be battered again.

"I'm talking about your mother, missy. She's been crying for two days. She didn't even go to work today."

Olive slid back in her chair and stood up, her defenses mounting. "I still don't know what you're talking about!"

Lydia stood up too and raised her voice. "Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about, young lady! Moving in with your dad? Really? After everything your mom and George have done for you? Your life is
here
and your FAMILY is here! How could you leave her?"

Olive blinked rapidly, mouth hanging open for about the thousandth time in the past few days. "Lydia, I don't
want
to move in with him, jeeze, he obviously doesn’t even want me there. Mom's
making
him take me, just like she's
making
me go!"

Lydia frowned deeply with narrowed eyes. Olive could hardly believe the treatment she received from one of her favorite people. A piece of Olive's heart splintered. "I find that a little hard to believe, Olive," Lydia countered, a little more calmly.

"Oh really, you do?" Olive implored frantically throwing her hands up in the air. "Why? Because I lie to you so much? Or because I've
ever once
told
anybody
that I want to move in with dad? I really don't care what you think," Olive concluded, moving to exit the room.

"Wait, Olive," Lydia relented with a much kinder tone of voice. "Listen, I don't think your mom knows you don't want to go."

Olive replied with a frustrated groan, continuing to be lost about how she could possibly be so grossly misunderstood by all the people she loved.

Lydia continued. "Why don't I take you home and you can just tell her you don't want to go?"

Olive shook her head. "No! I don't want to fight anymore! If she wants me to leave, I'm just going to go."

Lydia wrapped her arms around her niece, despite Olive's resistance. "Yes, come on. Let's go home. Don't give up on your mom."

Lydia and Olive ventured out into the blustery, gray day and made the short journey across town to Olive's house.

***

When they arrived, Leonora sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee. She looked tense, but Olive thought she detected a trace of happiness reflected in her eyes upon seeing her daughter arrive.

"Ok, Olive, tell her," Lydia urged, cutting to the chase with gentle prodding.

Olive took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm sorry. I don't want to live with dad. Please don't make me leave."

Leonora lurched up from the table and in one swift movement, encircled Olive in a fierce embrace. She cried. "I'm sorry too, honey. You don’t have to go if you don't want to."

And with that, disaster had been averted. Life slipped instantly back to where it had been Saturday afternoon and the fight ended. Both Olive and Leonora remained clueless to the true feelings of the other, and silently agreed that ignorance was more comfortable.