Page 19 of Waking Olivia

"But we could have placed if she just didn't go running this morning! That's the whole point! And then she tells me the most preposterous lie to get out of it."

"Are you sure it's a lie?"

"Of course it's a lie, Mom. You don't know this girl. She's made of lies. People do notrunin their sleep."

"And you’re sure of that."

"Yes,” I reply, even as I admit to myself that I’m not actually sure at all. But no, this is just Olivia’s influence again, and God knows I’m lucky to be separating myself from it. “She's been trouble since the start, so she can go be trouble for someone else."

“But, Will, why would she lie?"

"Who knows why she does anything?"

Exasperated, I push away from the table. Olivia is like this small, insistent wound in my side. Always there, making itself known every time I bend one direction or the other. Even now, when she's no longer my problem, I'm still seeing that lost look on her face and feeling as if I just kicked something small and defenseless. That look stays with me. I see it as I turn on the tractor. I see it when I should be inspecting fields. I see it when I’m fixing the water. I see it as I drive away, and find myself heading not toward Jessica’s at all but back to my office.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I grumble as I go online. Sleep running does not exist. I’m angry at myself for even checking. I’m angry at her for having the pull over me that she does.

And when I find that it exists, I feel something much worse. It’s the moment I realize how badly I wanted to find nothing. That I want her out of my line of sight. I want to continue believing she is willfully destroying her running career rather than having it destroyed by something she can’t control.

I don’t want to feel sorry for her.

I don’t want to feelanythingfor her.

Maybe the problem is that I already do. I already care about her outcome, and it feels dangerous for no reason I can pinpoint.

There is website after website devoted to sleep running and forums for people who do it. It explains so much. Her exhaustion, the fact that her college career has been a long series of disappointments. I pull up her file from UT. They must have known, but how could they have just let it go on the way they did? I find nothing. The notes discuss only her performance and that she seems to implode under stress. The underlying implication is that drugs or alcohol are the culprit, but it’s unclear to me how they really could have believed that. She often shows up exhausted, but I’ve never once seen her show up hung-over.

I go through her academic file and it is similarly unrevealing. She gets good grades and she keeps to herself. But then I find three notes written shortly after she’d arrived at UT.

The first: 3:42 am.Student was running through lobby, attempting to leave dormitory. Student was informed that she could not leave premises, but was hysterical and broke free of officer in charge. Student was later identified by security officer and informed that disciplinary action would be taken in event of further incidents. Student claimed to have no knowledge of incident.

The second came only two weeks later: 2:19 am.Student ran through lobby and did not respond to commands to stop. Campus security was alerted and found student running barefoot toward southern end of campus. Several officers were required to restrain student, who resisted and did not appear oriented to time or place. Medical personnel called to scene. Student taken to UMC by paramedics. Patient's next-of-kin could not be reached.

The only other note comes a week later:Due to psychological distress caused by close living environment, student has requested and been granted a stipend in lieu of remaining in the residence halls.

With a sinking stomach, I realize that there is far more than meets the eye with Olivia. She’s been keeping a lot of secrets for a long time, and today, when she finally opened up to someone—tome,I laughed in her face.

She livesin the worst possible section of town. Her apartment complex looks like it was built in the 70s, and probably last maintained then too. Once we sort out what’s going on with her running, I need to get her back into the dorms. Even I don’t feel safe on this end of town.

I knock and she opens the door without unchaining the lock. "Yes?" she asks, her face blank.

"Can I come in?"

She bites her lip. "I'll come out," she finally says.

She unchains the door and opens it as little as possible in order to get out. I get the distinct impression she doesn't want me to see what or who is in her apartment.

"Am I interrupting something?" I ask, nodding at her door.

“Yeah. Me, packing my shit."

She isn't going to make this easy. No surprises there, I guess. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have implied you were lying."

She blinks in surprise. "Why the sudden change of heart?" she asks sourly. "You realized I'm your only chance of winning in two weeks?"

"You really think as piss-poor as your performance has been so far that I'm putting my hopes on you?" I demand. It's harsh but true, and I know she's the kind of person who responds more to candor than flattery. I could tell her that I think it's possible she could win it for us, that I see in her the kind of untapped potential that makes almostanythingpossible, but I don't. She wouldn't believe me anyway.

"Then why are you here?"

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