Ollie nods and politely says goodbye to my sister and the pups.
We walk outside, and I’m instantly self-conscious about the insane amount of ice on the old wooden deck and the state of my silver 2003 Toyota Corolla. I haven’t lived at home full-time in over ten years, so it just sat until Bec was able to drive. Ollie opens the car door and slides into the passenger seat before I make it around to the driver’s side.
I can tell she’s nervous when I slide into the driver’s seat of my old beat-up car because of the constant bounce of her leg, which shakes the entire car, and the impulsive need to endlessly twirl her hair around her finger.
There is relief in knowing she still has the same nervous tendencies as when we were in high school. I don’t know why I suspected that this would be an easy reunion, that we would see each other for the first time in ten years and have it be with the same ease and comfort. I can feel my heart race, trying to beat out of my chest.
I’ve never had any problems starting a conversation with friends or strangers, and yet today I am sitting here in my car, speechless.
“Can you believe all this snow?” she says after a moment.
We have hit weather talk, basically the bottom of the bottom of small talk. And it makes me want to hit the steering wheel because I don’t know how to fix this. How do you jump into the real world? The real conversations? The ones that actually matter and people care about or remember?
I remember back to something my therapist mentioned one day;talk about something important, divulging something about yourself while leaving the conversation open ended and ready for a response. Dr. Doyle has been life-saving in integrating back into civilian life these last few months. Talking to people after tragedy, loss, and while suffering from PTSD is nearly impossible, and I cannot imagine being here without his recommendations.
“After ten years in the desert, any amount of snow seems astronomical to me. Does it snow a lot in the city? I imagine that the river gives you snow similar to the lake here?” I respond, hopeful to pull out of this god-awful small talk we are making.
“Yeah, the river doesn’t affect us nearly as much as the lake here,” she responds before falling back into a silent stare out the window.
One of my favorite things about Ollie growing up was her deep love for the holidays. Between decorating, seeing lights, baking, and spending time with family she always lit up extra bright during this time of year, and it’s obvious that this year is different.
I had driven to the farm a week ago for a meeting with Cole, and found that they hadn’t put any of their holiday lights out yet.
“I am sorry to hear about Miss Sharon,” I blurt out.
She turns and looks at me, seeming confused. Oh my god, why would I say that? I mean, it’s true. I am sorry to hear about Sharon. She was one of the funniest ladies I had the pleasure to know. Small, smart, independent and opinionated, and the absolute best.
But the whole point of today is to rekindle our friendship, not bring up sadness and ruin the night before it even started.
“I am so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Not that it’s not true. But…just…I’m sorry.”
Her expression softens. “Thank you. And it’s okay, talking about her is a good thing.”
I nod, not knowing what to say but thankful the ride to Fishy’s is short and the surprise for her is about to be revealed.
Bec mentioned that the loss of Sharon Bennett weighed heavily on the Bennett siblings, especially Olivia, who hadn’t been back to Fisher Creek since the funeral. I know how much she loved Miss Sharon and the holidays and I want to bring some of that life back into her eyes and smile.
As we drive down the long tree-lined road leading to the snow-covered dirt lot, I know it’s going to be perfect. The trees are each decorated with their own set of white Christmas lights that twinkle perfectly off the snow-covered branches and ground.
“Holy heck,” Ollie exclaims as her big green eyes widen bigger at thelights.
I just smile, knowing there is more to come. Unlike Ollie, I have been back to the barn a few times over the past few years, catching up with friends, and hiding from some others, so the updates aren’t new to me. Ollie never liked Fishy’s at night, always complaining that was when all the annoying drunks came out to play, so I doubt she’s seen all the updates Mark and Melinda have done to the place, including taking over the old bed and breakfast on the property.
As we pull into the parking lot, you can see the fire pit flame burning bright alongside the reindeer, pulling the sleigh display along the thick frozen lake. It’s already dark but you can still see the twinkles of lights off the ice where the snow is cleared to play pond hockey.
“This is beautiful. They know how to put someone in the holiday spirit!” Ollie says quietly as she steps out of the car and turns to take in her surroundings.
I have never really noticed how her eyes get big and almost sparkle as bright as her smile. God, I would give anything to keep that smile on her face forever. But the wind blows, wiping that smile right off her face as a visible shiver slides down her spine. She’s probably freezing, opting to wear a light jacket instead of a heavy Wisconsin windproof winter coat.
“Let’s head in and get a drink,” I say quickly, ushering her toward the door to get her out of the frigid Wisconsin air.
The parking lot is full, indicating it’s probably busy inside, meaning we’ll have to sit at the bar. I feel the frown forming on my face and quickly push it aside so Ollie doesn’t see it. The music is loud; way louder than it was earlier this week. And that sound…
“Next up for karaoke: Kimberly M”
We hear as we open the door and step inside.
No. Not karaoke night.
