On Hope

I browsed the medicine aisle of the pharmacy, they had rearranged things since I had been here last and with no pharmacy tech working I was left searching for what I needed alone. There were too many types that did exactly the same thing, I wondered if it was necessary. Then again, I was brand particular and wouldn’t just buy any medicine, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. I remembered having to teach Oliver everything that I knew my mother needed. I had been overbearing at the time, yet I was sure he learned quicker because of it, or maybe he was just a quick learner, I humbled myself.

 

Things returned to their semi-normal state, me at school and a nurse at home with my mom. For the most part I ignored Oliver, when he arrived I left for school, when I arrived home he left. Saying hello was about the extent of our interaction and we were both content with that, or at least I assumed he was since he didn’t try to take it any further. The lack of communication was probably my fault; I wasn’t exactly approachable " not unfriendly, just…caught up in my own world I guess. I wasn’t used to letting people in, I knew that one thing would lead to another and I might become too readable " it happened with Yolanda. History repeating itself was not on my agenda.

 

In the beginning I believed that talking to Oliver would be my downfall, and then I realized that it didn’t matter if we did or not because apparently the whole situation was transparent. It didn't take long for him to catch on that my father never seemed to be home. He would ask, but I would always answer that he went to work early and came home late. The skeptical look in his eyes worried me at first, but I quickly brushed if off, after all I had been doing this for a long time and only one person had figured out what I had kept from the rest of the world. What I hadn’t considered was that the one person who had found out my secret was the only person that was constantly around me " unlike everyone else that I had figured into the equation, my teachers, the doctor, neighbors. I should have known that he would be my second confidante " not by choice.

 

My flimsy lies held up for a month or so before Oliver began to pry. He started his shifts a little earlier and stayed a little later, making small talk and studying me as I made enough dinner for only my mom and me. I caught on that he was trying to run into my father, he had a better chance of running into a ghost. Oliver wasn’t going to take the direct approach like Yolanda had. Just as he tried to be sly in his nosiness, I was just as sly in my attempts to make it look like my father was around when Oliver wasn’t. Questions about my father's work and his schedule were sandwiched in between ones about me and what I liked - all along sniffing out the truth like a nosy blood hound. I told him what he wanted to hear - a half truth about me and all falsities about my father.

 

I had been too young to really understand what my father did for a living before he left. He had worked in an office - that much I knew from the suits I remembered seeing him in and briefcase he carried to and from work. That lack of knowledge left me with free reign of what I could tell Oliver. I decided on something that was slightly complicated, so that I didn’t seem to know too much, just like a normal teenager. An investment banker sounded like it could afford all that we had and I knew that it had something to do with money. That wasn’t enough though, I needed to forge my father’s presence in small, yet convincing doses so that Oliver would notice but wouldn’t remember if the signs had always been there or not.

 

Early on Sunday mornings, just before the sun woke and long before my neighbors did the same, I snuck out of my house and pounced across the lawn. Next door, lights off and no signs of life, I would creep to the front door where a thick Sunday paper had been placed. I’d quickly swipe it up, tuck it into my robe and dash safely back into my house. Finally, I removed the money section of the paper and folded it until it looked sufficiently read. It, along with almost finished cups of coffee were placed in different locations every now and then. I even went so far as to light one of my fathers abandoned cigars and let it burn to get the smell in the house. It was enough I told myself and at the time I was sure it was.

 

When my tactics didn’t have the affect I was hoping for I became impatient because I wanted him to leave as soon as I came home so that I wouldn't have to keep up the act. Surprisingly after a couple of months Oliver’s presence didn't bother me so much, the irritation had disappeared. The only friends I had known were the childhood kind that are good for playing dress up and tea time with, but those faded once I had the responsibilities of an adult and I never replaced them. I had never had a person to talk to that was my near own age and genuinely interested in who I was or what was going on in my life, Oliver began to slowly become that and it was too late to stop it once I realized what was happening. Even Yolanda's friendship was more like that of a grandmother or relative, only barely scratching the surface of me in three years. She had been the person to give me advice, which I readily accepted, unlike her children she joked. Oliver on the other hand was only twenty, he was more relatable.

 

We talked of the medication my mother had been taking and the day her coworker found her unconscious in her car after work. The whirlwind of being taken to the hospital and the long days that followed when the doctors ran tests and decided on a prognosis. It wasn't good; their downward glances were enough that we didn’t get a chance to hope for something better. There were more than enough times when I got carried away in our conversations and almost slipped up, those days I often ended our talks abruptly and asked Oliver to leave. My anger was at myself, but it was easier to be mad at someone else.

 

The nurse's company, while for the most part was good, seemed to bring many other feelings that I wasn’t used to. I often felt guilty for hiding the truth from him, deep down I knew that his kindness was the same as Yolanda's, yet I couldn’t bring myself to tell him my secret. He would have understood that I was better off here, in the midst of this struggle with the one family member that I still had, than if we were separated. Yet, the thought of confessing to him terrified me because I would never forgive myself if my instincts happened to be wrong.

 

“Can I help you?” A voice cut into my thoughts and made me jump. I realized that I had been standing in the aisle staring at a box of medicine in my hand. The middle aged man with straw hair stood waiting for my answer in his red work vest " he must have grown suspicious.

 

“Um, no. I found what I was looking for,” I said giving him a weak smile that I hoped would show him that I was anything but malevolent. He seemed satisfied and went back to the front of the store, I followed.

 

As he rung up my item I thought about how I would go home and check the label for the work stroke. I would have done it before buying the seven dollar bottle, but I didn’t want to alarm the clerk any more than I had already. Verifying the warning was a ritual I did every time I restocked my supply, just in case the manufacturer added a warning of a stroke. I was paranoid, but rightfully so I justified.

 

A few more months passed without a word about my father from Oliver and while still careful, I was able to find a true friend in him, not someone to just talk to about my problems. We spoke of the movies and music that we liked, he gave me advice and I tried to do the same for him, but I was anything but wise - nonetheless he always listened and thought about what I had to say. Too often I wondered why Oliver was genuinely interested in me. Our six year age difference wasn’t huge, yet I was sure he would rather be out with friends or partying like most people his age " instead he was working later when he didn’t have to be. At fourteen I felt like I was living the life of a thirty year old, looking after my mother and speaking about life over tea with a friend. It was surreal, and then came the day when Oliver tore it all down.

 

A knock at the door, the beep of my mother's life, another knock. The clock said 6:34 am. My mind and heart were racing and for a second I thought that it must be my father - I didn’t know whether to be relieved or enraged. My feet jogged the cool hardwood floor and my mother's bed and equipment were a blur in my peripherals as I passed the living room. Each step made my pulse speed up with nervousness. My tired mind caught up with my body and it told me that this wasn’t anything good - not that early. The peep hole, in its fish eye perspective, showed me Oliver’s face and I was even more confused.

 

I couldn't have known, I couldn't have guessed that me opening the door for him would change everything and if I could go back I don't know if I still would have done it. But I did and no one can change the past, the second destiny is determined it will follow its course into the future on its own accord " good or bad, it didn’t matter, it just was. Without the knowledge of the future at my disposal I let my sly friend in, the nurse, one of the few people I trusted in this world.

 

"He was never here!" Oliver roared, breezing past me into my house. "You're father hasn't been here this whole time!"

 

"SHHHH," I commanded sternly as I could without being just as loud. Ushering him into the kitchen, I flipped on the light above the stove. Bathed in the pumpkin-like glow, the shock took hold. At first, his words were only that, sounds coming from his throat. It wasn’t until I played back what he said that it began registering. Immediately I started to form another lie, another excuse to keep me from being exposed.

 

His face said it all, he wasn't going to repeat himself and he could see that I was planning on deceiving him once again. I hid my face from him and stared at the floor, half ashamed and half angry at myself for not planning this better. I could have, it's not like I didn't have plenty of time - it was just laziness and a little cockiness on my part.

 

"I want to know everything, you owe me that." The coldness in his voice shoved me back to the day my father left when he took the same tone with me. My chest tightened and I wanted to hate Oliver for forcing me into honesty. My secret was the only thing I had to hold on to, the only thing I had control of in my out of control life and he was taking that away from me. Yet, I knew that I was the one who had lied and I couldn’t be rightfully angry with him. If he had been a stranger I wouldn't have owed him anything, but Oliver was not a stranger and he had never given me a reason not to trust him.

 

Bringing my gaze to his, I let the truth flow from me. "He hasn't been here in almost four years. A month after my mom was brought home from the hospital he decided he couldn't deal with her condition, so he packed his bags and left his 11 year old daughter to be responsible for his disabled wife. Is this what you wanted to hear - my pitiful story? Well there you go. I really hope it was worth it." The sting at the end wasn't necessary and I regretted it as soon as I said it, but years of holding onto rage was bound to have an effect on me - bitterness was apparently my consequence.

 

Neither of us said anything for a while, I stared at the floor and I imagined he was hoping that somehow he had been mistaken in his assumptions about the life I was living. I'm sure anyone in his shoes would have wanted to be wrong because if you're right, well what then? What do you do when someone's situation is far beyond your understanding and you know there is nothing you can do to turn it around? Well in my case, those people keep my secret and try to be there for me in the only way they know how - by being a friend.

 

That morning changed everything between us, awkwardly so at first, but eventually I felt comfortable enough to open up in detail about my past, no more half-truths, no more falsities. Now that he knew everything about me there was more of an ease in the air when we spoke. While this was a repeat of what I went through with Yolanda, the relationship was different between Oliver and me. He didn't try to parent me, he didn't make me dinner every night, and he didn't go shopping for the things I needed. This, I was grateful for, to be babied by him would have been humiliating. I let him help me with small things, but mostly he took care of my mom like before.

 

In most ways it was easier now that Oliver knew my whole story like not having to leave traces of my father around the house, yet there were times when I was distant and I couldn't keep that to myself anymore. My feelings were now on display for him to question and he would offer me support, while this was everything I could ask for - it was everything I didn't want in those moments. I needed to feel the pain once in a while to remind myself that I wasn't numb and that this fight wasn't for nothing. The pain made me stronger and unfortunately Oliver’s support would only make me weak and vulnerable " two things that could be my downfall

 

The next two years changed my life and I can give all of the credit to Oliver. He brought a light into my life, one that I thought I'd never find again. I laughed, really, genuinely laughed daily and it felt good. School was a little easier and instead of feeling like my time there kept me sane, I began to want to escape school to get home, like a normal teenager. Weekends weren't something I dreaded either. Oliver didn't have anything better to do, although I never fully believed this, so he would come over and help me. That usually meant sitting around watching movies, playing video games, reading our favorite books to each other, and cooking up experimental concoctions in the kitchen. We both took care of my mom and Oliver even helped me with math and science homework - not my best subjects.

 

Yes, in two years much had changed. I learned a lot about myself and the goodwill of man. I learned that the people you least expect, the ones you may not even know very well, might be there for you more than the people that had been there your whole life. I found out that even in the darkest hour I could come out shining. I learned how to have fun, something I thought I’d never experience again. Smiling to myself as I walked home, medicine in hand, I thought about how much Oliver had changed my life and how after all of this time he was still doing it.

 

There were times when he would offer to stay with my mom if I wanted to go out with friends or on a date, I always declined. This confused him just as much as I was confused by him spending time with me. Even with my new found lease on life I hadn't made friends at school, not that I hadn't tried. Talking to people my age seemed tedious and a waste of time - I was truly thirty internally, much too mature for my peers antics or silly drama. I never explained this to Oliver, I just declined his offers and countered with something fun we could do together. My not getting out must have bugged him because on my sixteenth birthday I came home to find someone new at my mother's bedside - a nurse by the looks of her scrubs, but a stranger nonetheless.

 

"This is Cathy," Oliver called from the kitchen. I turned to see him dressed casually, as opposed to the blue uniform that he normally wore. "She's going to take care of your mom tonight."

 

"Why would I need someone to take care of her tonight?"

 

"Well, it is your birthday and you can't sit home and do nothing," he said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Only, I had sat home every night for the last five years on my birthday - it was really like any other day.

 

"It's really not necessary. I didn't make plans anyway," I said nonchalantly. He had been through the awkward last birthday with me. It was a day that was too much of a reminder of my eleventh birthday - I wasn’t exactly in the mood to celebrate that. Yet the look on his face told me that he wasn’t accepting that answer, either I was going to have to find something to do or he had something planned. I couldn’t read him.

"Let’s go."

 

"But what about...does she know..." Oliver's hand grabbed mine and dragged me towards the door. "What if something..."

 

"Allison, stop,” Oliver instructed in a serious tone that was unusual for him. His face softened and he followed with, “Your mom is going to be fine and you really need a night out."

 

My heart pounded, I didn't know how to feel. Selfishly I wanted to be excited, but I worried about leaving her with someone I didn't know. I trusted Oliver's judgment, but considering my lucky streak in life, anything could go wrong tonight and if my mother suffered because of it I would hate myself.

 

"Stop worrying," Oliver said looking over at me as I chewed on my stubby nails. His reassuring smile comforted me enough to stop the bad habit as we drove into the city. I tried to relax, but not all of the tension melted away like I wished it would.

 

He stopped at a pizza place, but told me to wait in the car because we didn't have much time. Then we were back on the road, speeding on the highway with the windows down, this I remembered from when I was a little girl. I closed my eyes, let the salty air tangle in my hair and tasted it on my lips, memorizing every second of it so I could recall it in the future. Oliver twisted and turned along the back roads until we reached a sandy dead end that eventually faded into the Atlantic Ocean.

 

Sunlight was dying and he urged me to hurry. I didn't understand why we were rushing until we sat down at the edge of the choppy water and the culmination of everything struck me all at once. Ribbons of neon pink stretched through the vanishing blue sky and reflected off of the black glassy water so that the heavens were mirrored above and below. The speeding cars from the causeway we sat beneath swirled into wind tunnel of noise that created the most beautiful combination of chaos and serenity.

 

We quietly ate our food, not that we could have talked if we wanted to with the sound from above. The sun disappeared behind the skyline, dragging the pinks, light blues, and oranges down with it. When I didn't think it could get any better, it did. The navy night, starless and cloudless, allowed the city lights to shine in the darkness. They had always been there, but until now they were camouflaged by day’s harshness. The night's light consuming nature let the Miami skyline have its turn to shine, and shine it did, in shades of yellow, green, purple, and red. The ocean too thought its splendor better replicated on its mirror surface.

 

I had never known beauty like this existed so close, within reach all along. I looked over at Oliver as he stared out at the sea and I couldn't help smiling, I didn't try to hide it either when he turned my way. I had also never known friendship like this existed, yet I had been lucky enough to stumble upon it. Now here I was on my birthday looking at surely the most amazing thing in Miami and sitting next to someone I couldn't imagine living without. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

 

When it was time to go I was reluctant and had to pull myself away from the perfection. I wished I had a camera so that I could remember this moment always " the memory would have to do. Oliver stopped me on the way back to the car. "There's one more thing," he said reaching into the pocket of his hoodie and pulling out a rectangular box. He held it out to me and I was nervous to take it. I could be opening Pandora’s box,

 

I thought to myself. I hoped that it was something silly because my already pounding heart couldn’t handle anything else.

 

I carefully opened the lid, trying to control my trembling fingers. Lying on a bed of soft white material was a silver chain. Attached to it was something that made my breath catch in my throat. A tiny pearl swam in the sea of white, its color standing out against it, resembling a peacock’s feathers with greens, golds, and maroons beginning and ending seamlessly.

 

"Oliver," I said with the little breath I could squeeze out, still staring at the gift. Finally, able to think clearly I said politely, "This is too much." Selfishly I wanted to wear it always, but I couldn't accept such a prized treasure. I pushed the box back to him.

 

"It's not too much. It's your birthday and you deserve something nice. You've done so much for me, it's the least I can do for you." I knew he was just trying to persuade me, the only thing I had ever given him was a job, and not a good paying one at that. Nimbly he plucked the silver chord from the box. "Turn around. Let me put it on you."

 

I did as he commanded, although inside a war of guilt and entitlement raged on. His hands brushed my long, wavy hair to one side, his touch making me shiver involuntarily. The clasp clicked closed and he spun me back around, admiring the adornment against my fair skin.

 

It was sudden thing that I noticed his hands still on my sleeveless shoulders, my eyes instinctively falling to the ground. Oliver wasn't having it tonight, his hand perched beneath my chin and he guided it upwards once more. Neither of us moved or breathed for a long while, finally, pulling me close, he hugged me.

 

"Happy birthday Allison," Oliver whispered in my ear.

 

I rolled the gem between my fingers now, thinking back to that night, as I did every day for the past two weeks, when neither of us could bring ourselves to destroy all that we had created as friends. Grinning to myself, I let flashes of the unforgettable skyline, his sweet smile, and all of that turbulent noise parade through my mind. It was better this way, as friends, I told myself not knowing if it was true or not - I guess I would never find out. Pushing the nostalgia from my mind, I focused on getting home quickly.

 

Traffic was a low buzz in the distance now that I was past the security gate and back in my neighborhood, only the sound of my footsteps and the crinkling plastic bag in my hand made any substantial noise. The temperature had dropped a little since I left and was going from comfortable to too cold. I should have worn something a little heavier than the tank and shorts I had on. Only a little farther and I could give my mom her medicine and snuggle up in my warm bed, I thought happily. My pace quickened as I cut through the yards that I knew weren't fenced until I reached mine, which was.

 

Digging into my pocket I pulled out my key ring that held the obvious, then I fished out a pocket knife that I only carried when I needed to unlatch the lock that kept my fence closed from the inside. I pulled the wood apart enough to expose a slight opening big enough for the knife’s thin blade to enter into. I slid it up until it hit the bottom of the metal latch that was locking me out and I forced it upwards until it flipped over to the opposite side. Shouldering the stubborn wood that didn't want to move from its groove in the ground I pushed hard and eventually I won, however I didn't get far because I lost my balance and stumbled forward. I expected a grassy landing, instead I went headlong down a set of steps that had never been there before and ended on an unreasonably hard surface. The fall kicked up a cloud of dust that stung my eyes and stifled my lungs. Coughing and squinting through the haze, it began to settle. When it did I was surprised to see that I was no longer in my backyard - and I sure wasn't in Kansas anymore.