Olivia (4 page)

I stared a moment. Daddy looked like he was about to cry now. His lips were pressed together so hard, his cheeks bulged.
"Don't condemn me for loving all of you, loving my family name and reputation so much, Olivia. Learn from it," he pleaded.
I took a deep breath. Daddy and I had had many conversations in the past, but I rarely if ever saw his eyes fill with tears. I felt bad for him, felt sorry I had made him feel any guilt.
"I understand, Daddy," I said. "I really do."
"That's good, Olivia, because you're my hope. You will have many decisions to make for our family after I'm gone, and I hope you will always remember this week and remember what I told you to use as your guiding principle."
"I will, Daddy," I promised.
He smiled and rose. Then he walked around the desk and put his arm around me.
"I'm proud of you, Olivia." He kissed me on the forehead. "Very proud," he said.
I watched him return to his desk. He looked tired, like a man carrying too many burdens. I remained a moment until he lowered his eyes to his papers, and then I left him.
His words clung to me even after I had put out the lights that night and lowered my head to the pillow. They lingered with the memory of his tearfilled eyes.
There is a terrible price to pay for being a leader, I thought, a terrible burden.
Maybe Belinda was better off than any of us, especially me.
Look at what she had done and yet tonight, like most nights, she embraced her stuffed animals, closed her eyes, and dreamed of parties, of tinkling bells, of ribbons and music and boyfriends dangling on her smiles.
Whereas my dreams were about a patch of dirt behind the house and my father, lowering the carton into the ground while through his tears he chanted, "For the family. It's all for the family."

2
It's My Party
.
For the first few days, Belinda was truly an

invalid. She didn't eat well and what she ate, she often didn't keep down. Her usual rosy complexion evaporated and didn't return until toward the end of the week, which was just in time for what she had planned. On Saturday, three boys from her highschool class arrived at the house after lunch to visit her. They brought flowers and candy. Carmelita appeared in the doorway of the sitting room where Mother, Daddy and I were.

Belinda," she announced with little emotion. "Three?" Daddy asked, his eyebrows lifting. "Yes, sir."
"Boys?"
"Yes, Mr. Gordon."
Daddy shifted his gaze to me and I frowned. "That's very nice," Mother declared. She smiled

my way even though I continued to scowl.
"Show them in," Daddy declared and stiffened
up the way he usually did for a business meeting he
anticipated would be difficult. He had a way of bringing up his shoulders and lowering his neck until he resembled a bird of prey. Daddy was barrelchested, stout and very intimidating when he swelled
up and put a glint of steel in his eyes.
I knew each of the boys Carmelita showed in.
They had all been here to take Belinda on a date at
one time or another this year. There was Arnold
Miller, who had been my prime suspect only because
Belinda had spent so much time with him recently. He
was very tall, easily six feet four, good-looking with
light brown hair and green eyes speckled with brown.
From what Belinda had told me, she fancied him
because he was something of a school sports hero,
their star basketball player and star baseball pitcher.
Most of the girls wanted him for a boyfriend. Belinda
enjoyed being envied more than she enjoyed being
loved.
Arnold's parents owned a lumber mill and
garden equipment store, one of the biggest retail
outlets in Provincetown. Arnold was the oldest of
three children, all boys. I thought he was a little shy,
but I couldn't be sure if that was an act he put on in
front of me. Belinda only giggled when I had first
asked her about him months ago.
Next to Arnold stood Quin Lothar, who kept his amber hair long, nearly to his shoulders, which was something Daddy detested in young men. Quin was also very popular because he had his own band at school, but in my opinion he wasn't anywhere as good-looking as Arnold. Quin's features were too large and he had a narrow forehead with eyebrows that hung too far over his brown eyes. The right corner of his mouth always seemed tucked into his cheek, giving him an habitual smart-aleck smirk. Now that I gazed at him, I thought he had to be the father. He looked capable of making Belinda pregnant and
not caring.
He was dressed sloppily, in worn trousers and a
faded pullover, and obviously didn't care about his
appearance or making a good impression on my
parents.
The third young man was Peter Wilkes, a short,
chubby boy with a round, soft face. His father was
President of the Cape Coast Savings. Belinda said he
always had money to spend and the others kept him
around and called him Pocketbook, even to his face.
Belinda bragged that she just had to look at something
and wish it was hers and he would go buy it for her. He wore a button-down white dress shirt, slacks
and laced dress shoes, but somehow, maybe because of the way his clothes hung on his obese body, he
didn't look any better than the other two.
Quin was their spokesman.
"Good afternoon," he said. "We came to see
how Belinda is doing. We thought we could cheer her
up," he added.
Peter folded his cheeks into a smile and lifted
the box of candy in his hands.
"If it's okay, I'd like to give her this," he said.
"Imported chocolates."
Arnold carried the flowers. He just nodded,
holding them up like the Statue of Liberty holding the
torch.
Daddy said nothing. He had a way of holding
his words back just a moment longer than anyone
anticipated. It was something he did to put people off
rhythm, a way of testing them. The silence, as short as
it was, made the three boys uncomfortable. They
gazed quickly at each other, squirmed in their clothes
and looked from me to my mother to the floor and
then back to Daddy.
"I brought her some notes from classes she's
missed, too," Peter added reaching into his pants
pocket to produce some papers.
"That's very thoughtful," Mother finally said. "Aren't you boys afraid of getting sick
yourselves so close to the end of the school year?"
Daddy questioned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "No sir," Arnold replied quickly.
"We won't get that close to her," Quin added,
digging the corner of his mouth deeper into his cheek.
Peter widened his smile.
"I hope not," Daddy muttered. "Olivia," he said
turning to me. I knew what that meant. He wanted me
to show them to Belinda's room and remain as a chaperone.
I rose with obvious reluctance.
"Maybe she's asleep," I said.
"She knows we're coming," Quin quickly
inserted. "We called earlier and told her we'd be here
about now."
"She should have told us, too," I muttered,
gazing at Daddy. He nodded his agreement but said
nothing more. Instead, he went to his newspaper and
then plucked one of his cigars out of the case on the
table beside him.
"Are those Havana cigars, Mr. Gordon?" Peter
asked as Daddy began to light it.
Daddy raised his eyebrows.
"What do you know about cigars?"
"Not much, but my father smokes Havanas. I
can get some for you," he added, his attempt to win
favor blatantly obvious.
"I'm quite capable of getting my own," Daddy
replied sternly.
"Are you here to visit Belinda or jabber with
my father?" I asked them.
Quin poked Peter with his elbow and the three
followed me out of the study and to the stairway. "Normally, my parents don't approve of my
sister having male visitors in her room," I said as I led
them up. One of them snickered, but I didn't give him
the satisfaction of showing I had heard.
I paused outside Belinda's bedroom door and
turned as the three gathered anxiously around me.
What power did Belinda possess to cause young men
to exhibit such enthusiasm and desire? I wondered.
Was it simply her promiscuity or did she indeed have
something extra, something I could never have,
something given at birth, a quality of excitement, a
promise that stirred their male hormones like witches
stirred their brew.
"Just a moment," I said. They were breathing
down my neck in anticipation. If they were horses,
they'd be choking on their bridles and snorting, I
thought. I knocked.
"Yes?" Belinda called.
"You have visitors. Are you decent?" "Yes, Olivia. They can come in," she said and I
opened the door.
Anyone looking at Belinda now would surely
challenge my report of her birthing. Even I had to
admit I was impressed with how radiant she looked. I
knew Carmelita hadn't been up here after breakfast, so
it was clear Belinda had straightened up her room and
opened the curtains wide to permit the soft, bright
sunshine to come pouring through, making everything
look clean and fresh.
Belinda was wearing one of her sheerest
nighties, the neckline of which dipped into her
cleavage, revealing breasts well matured. With the
blanket lowered, the contour of her breasts was all but
fully revealed. She wore her well-brushed hair down
to her shoulders. The strands turned up softly at the
ends. Belinda always had richer looking hair than I,
but she fussed with it far more than I bothered with
my own. If she had her way, she would turn the walls
of her room into mirrors. She never seemed to tire of
looking at her own image.
"Pull up your blanket or put on your robe," I ordered. She blushed and pulled the blanket against
her chest quickly.
"Now, who's come to see me?" she declared
like some Southern belle.
The three boys moved timidly into her room. "They claim they called you, so I don't know
how you could wonder who it was, Belinda," I
remarked. She ignored me and concentrated on them. "I brought you these," Arnold said quickly and
thrust the bouquet of red roses toward her.
"Oh, they're just beautiful, aren't they, Olivia?
Can we find a vase for them?"
"We?" I asked.
She tilted her head with that childish grin. "Well, I don't think it would be proper for me to
get out of bed myself," she said, her eyelids fluttering
so emphatically, I thought she might fan herself up
and off the bed.
I grunted, stepped forward and took the
flowers. There was a vase on the dresser. I went into
the bathroom to fill it with water.
"I hope you can have candy," I heard Peter
Wilkes tell her.
"Of course I can," Belinda said. "Olivia loves
candy, too," she added loudly as I returned from the
bathroom.
"I certainly do not," I said. I put the vase down
on her nightstand and stuffed the long-stem roses into
it.
Belinda giggled and began to open the box. She
plucked a chocolate and held it between her lips,
closing her eyes and moaning so lustfully, the three
boys widened their own eyes and shifted about as
though they were in torment.
"Belinda, that's disgusting," I said. "If you're
going to eat it, eat it. Don't salivate all over it first." She laughed and sucked in the round treat,
offering the boys one. Each took a candy. I shook my
head vigorously when she turned the box to me. "Can you please put it on my table, Olivia," she
said.
I sighed deeply, not hiding my annoyance. How
had I suddenly become her maid? I wondered, but did
as she had asked.
"Tell me everything, everything I've missed and
leave out nothing, no matter how small it seems to
you," Belinda said clapping her hands and falling
back on her large, fluffy pink pillow. Her hair fell
around her face like a frame, bringing out the
brightness in her eyes.
"Arnold pitched a shutout yesterday to finish
the baseball season;" Peter declared. "He went the full
nine innings and gave up only three hits!"
"Oh, don't start talking to me about sports. All I
ever hear from you boys are scores and errors and
double plays. It's boring."
"Boring?" Peter said.
Quin laughed.
"Sure it is," he said. "Jock stuff is always
boring." He leaned over the bed toward Belinda. "I
wrote a new song for the band. We're calling it 'Take
me to the Beach.' "
"You must have them play it for me," Belinda
said.
"Sure. You'll come down to the garage as soon
as you're well enough."
"I'll be well enough Monday, won't I, Belinda?"
"You look well enough right now," I said dryly. "Quin
got caught smoking in the boys' room yesterday. He
won't be in school on Monday," Arnold revealed with
a gleeful smile.
"Really! Tell me about it," Belinda said, sitting
forward excitedly as though Quin had accomplished
something significant in her absence.
"Frog-eyes came in just after I lit up. He must have been watching me from his doorway, just looking for the opportunity. He's been after me ever since I wore those funny glasses and imitated him,
remember?"
"Of course I remember. That was so funny."
When Belinda laughed, they all laughed.
"And people wonder why I don't want to go
into teaching," I muttered. They turned to me. "You said you didn't like Mr. Garner either
when you were in high school, Olivia," Belinda said. "I said he wasn't very enthusiastic about his
work, but I didn't say he was a frog."
They all laughed again as if I had meant it to be
funny.
"Jerry gave Barbara a pretty expensive ring. It's
the closest thing to an engagement ring," Peter
continued. "He told me they intend to get married
soon after graduation."
"I already know about that. Marcia Gleason
told me last night on the phone," Belinda said. "Suicide Jerry, that's what we call him," Quin
said laughing.
"Don't make fun of him," Belinda moaned as if
she were seconds from bursting into tears. "He and
Barbara are really in love. It's wonderful when you can find someone with whom to spend your whole life, someone who will care more about you than he
does about himself, someone like my father." The three boys stopped smiling and accepted
her rebuke. How she dangled them on strings, I
thought, studying them each more closely. Who was
the father of her dead fetus? Certainly not Peter
Wilkes, unless Belinda got him to get her something
expensive in a trade. She could do that, I thought. "Anyone else come down with the flu this
week?" I inquired. One of them surely knew the truth
about Belinda.
Quin and Arnold looked at each other and then
shook their heads.
"I don't think so," Arnold said. "Bobby Lester
was out, but he twisted his ankle at the game." "We only have a couple of weeks until finals.
It's hard to miss class now," Peter said, "which
reminds me, Belinda. Here are my notes from English
literature class."
"Oh, thank you, Peter. That's so sweet." "Sweeter than the candy?" I asked. Belinda
laughed.
"My sister is so funny sometimes," she
explained. She took the notes and put them beside her.
"I'll do some studying later."
"That will be unusual," I remarked under my
breath, but loud enough to be heard.
"Olivia!"
"You know you have to pass the final in
English to graduate, Belinda."
"You said you'd help me study," she whined.
The boys looked from her to me to her as we spoke. "I will if you're serious about trying." "I am."
"I'll come up and study with you this week,"
Peter offered quickly.
"That's very nice of you, Peter. See, someone
cares about me," she cried with delight. Her eyes slid
from one boy to the other, melting each one into a
doting admirer as she passed her gaze like a
benediction, turning them into worshipers in seconds.
The sight disgusted me.
Where were the real men of today? I couldn't
imagine Daddy acting like this when he was their age. "I wish you had been at the game, Belinda.
When I threw that last pitch . ."
"There you go again, talking sports. If you don't
stop, I'll close my eyes and fall asleep," she
threatened.
If the conversation didn't center around her, she
wasn't interested.
"I just wanted to say I was thinking of you. This
one's for Belinda, I thought," Arnold told her. "Oh." She perked up, her dimple flashing.
"Well that's different. You won because of me. I want
everyone to know that," she declared. Arnold nodded
like a soldier taking orders to go forth and bellow the
news in the streets of Provincetown.
"They asked my band to play at the graduation
party on the beach," Quin blurted, attempting to win
back her attention.
"That's wonderful," Belinda cried.
"Can I pick you up and take you to the party?"
Arnold asked quickly.
"I can get my father's Cadillac," Peter
suggested. "I'll just come by with my motorcycle. You
can watch us set up," Quin added.
Belinda considered the offers and looked at me.
"What would you do, Olivia?"
"Walk," I said dryly.
She broke into a long, loud laugh and clapped
her hands.