Page 70 of Baby, It's You
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Olive, you mean the world to me.”
I know this isn’t the right time to tell her I love her.
She nods and pulls back. “I've got to go to work now.” She begins to open the passenger door and adds, “Thank you for being here for me.” Her eyes are red-rimmed and empty at this point. I’m so worried about her. She’s been hurt by so many people before; I know her control tactic is to shut down emotionally.
“Of course. I’m here, always,” I say.
Olive gets out of the car and starts to walk to her own vehicle.
“Will you please text or call me later?” I call after her.
She turns back towards me quickly. “Yes,” she says, and then gets in her car and drives away.
I text Olive later that afternoon to check on her and get worried when I still haven’t heard anything after an hour. By nightfall, I grow even more concerned, so I drive past the bar to see if she’s still at work. The lights are off…not good.
I anxiously park at The Mart across the street and walk in to see Mr. Ray behind the counter. He gives me a sad small smile in greeting. I look at him and ask the question, my voice like gravel, because I already know the answer. “Jane?”
Mr. Ray looks down at this lap and shakes his head sadly. “Gone.”
I rush out of the store, knowing I need to get to Olive.
Chapter 48
Olive
Two weeks later
Ifeel like I have been living in a blur recently, going through the motions every day but feeling nothing. I am completely numb to everything around me. The bar was closed for a few days after Jane’s passing. I couldn’t bring myself to work and Tripp surprisingly didn’t bother me or Rob about going in.
We had a small funeral for Jane last Tuesday morning. She was laid to rest next to Seymour, just like she wanted. Tripp was there, but left as soon as the memorial was over. He didn’t acknowledge anyone. Hunter stood next to me the whole time. As I watched her coffin lower into the earth, his hand kept me from collapsing. But still, I felt nothing.
Hunter has visited me every single day since the moment he found out that she passed away, just like he said he would. I kept my promise to him, letting him be here for me, knowing he is trying to help me. That doesn’t change how broken I am inside, though. I can’t describe this type of loss. I don’t want to eat and I spend every moment that I’m not working asleep. Hunter doesn’t say anything; he just brings me a meal each day andhangs out on the couch while I sleep. I can tell that he is worried about me.
Two days ago, Hunter told me that we reached the million-dollar goal so I can now buy the bar. I felt nothing when he told me. I know I should be thanking him, but I just can’t seem to voice it. I need to talk to Tripp, but I’ve been trying to get my head on straight before I approach him. I feel so much anger towards him; it’s the only emotion I can muster right now. I also know that isn’t going to help convince him to sell Whiskey’s to me. So, I need to be rational and handle the conversation in a professional manner. Today I will do it. I can’t wait any longer, knowing he is going under contract any day now with B&B Investments.
I force myself to get out of my bed and shower. Basic care has become a chore for me at this point. I struggle to want to even brush my teeth. Jane would never want this for me, I know, but I just can’t snap out of it. The nights are the worst, sitting alone with my thoughts. At least at work I’m kept busy, and my mind is constantly occupied. Except every time I see a customer give me that sadyou poor thinglook, I feel myself shut down a little bit more.
When I finish my shower, I throw on my hideous work uniform and brush my wet hair into a ponytail. I grab my keys and open the front door. A note falls from the crack of my doorframe and floats to the ground. I pick it up and read it.
Good morning, beautiful,
I am going to bring you some lunch later.
I left you a CD under your mat. Cheesy? I know.
But I wanted to make you a playlist that made me think of you.
I bend down and lift my rattan mat and sure enough there is a CD in a case underneath it. I haven’t listened to a CD since I was in high school. Ivy and I used to burn them for each other forour car rides to school. Curiosity gets the best of me as I lock my front door and head down the stairs.
I glance at Ivy’s old place as I pass and miss her presence. She delayed her move for a few extra days after Jane passed away but couldn’t stay any longer than that. Her new job at the bridal salon was waiting for her. She told me she would sayscrew itto the job and stay for me, but I told her to go. She can't put her life on hold for my sake. I want her to be happy and to get away from here. She deserves to find what she’s looking for.
I walk to my car and sink down in the driver's seat. I’m grateful my old car still has a CD player as I slide the disk into the stereo. A slow beat starts, and I turn over the plastic case where I see Hunter has written each song name in Sharpie on the outside. The first song is “With Me” by Sum 41, and I listen to the lyrics as I back my car out of the parking spot. I’ve heard this song many times, but never with the context of someone dedicating it to me.
I feel like a bitch suddenly; Hunter has done everything that he can to help me since he’s met me, and I have nothing to give him. This makes me feel angry and I hate it. Why can’t he just let me suffer? Why does he keep showing up? He won’t let me be miserable, which is how Ishouldfeel after losing someone that I love more than anything.
I grow angrier as I click to the next song and then the next. Each song pours his heart out to me, and I feel the shell I have built around myself, the hardened exterior I’ve created these past few weeks, cracking. I slam my hand into the power button on my stereo, clicking the music off. I can’t handle this right now. I need to stay numb while I talk to Tripp, so whatever answer he gives will just bounce off me.
When I get to Whiskey’s, the first few hours of my shift are easy. Just a few regulars and Rob are here. No Tripp in sight. I glance at the clock and see it’s close to 1:30 P.M. and I knowHunter will be dropping food to me soon. He waits till the lunch crowd is done because he wants to make sure I actually eat what he brings me. That I don’t use being busy as an excuse to not feed myself. I can tell I’ve lost weight recently—my uniform hangs on me in a way it didn’t before—but food tastes like dirt when I force myself to eat. The death diet.
