“He’s fine. He’s preparing for his trip to London.”
Our graduation was a few weeks away.
My face must have revealed my confusion because Mr. Madden added, “He doesn’t need homework; he was already accepted to the London School of Economics. He’s going away to prepare for it. You can go now.”
My legs begged me to run upstairs. My heart was already up there with Oliver. My concern, love, and agony were, too. But my fear of Mr. Madden grounded me in place.
“Can I see him and say goodbye?”
Mr. Madden measured me from head to toe. From the look on his face, it seemed I was graded an F. Yet, he slightly turned toward the stairs. “Ollie,” he yelled. He then turned to me and said, “Don’t be alarmed; he has a little bruise on his face. He tried something stupid yesterday with the banister.”
God help me, it was good I didn’t have anything sharp within my reach at that moment.
Oliver descended the stairs. He had a black eye, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. It was a flicker. A second later, the light dimmed, and he seemed deeply uncomfortable.
“Julie’s daughter wants to say goodbye because you’re going away to school. She brought your homework, but I told her you don’t need it.”
“Hi,” both Oliver and I said at the same time.
Our gazes locked together as he took the last step down and came to stand next to me and his father.
“This looks painful,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded. I wanted to hug him.
Oliver reached out his hand, clasped mine in his, and shook it. “Bye, January. Thanks for … homework.”
I shook his hand, drawing encouragement from its warmth and strength, hoping some of mine seeped into him from my palm. Under the inspecting glare of Mr. Madden, there wasn’t much else we could do or say.
“Bye, Oliver. Take good care. Good luck.”
“You, too,” Oliver said. We were still holding on to each other’s hand.
Mr. Madden made an impatient movement that prompted us to unclasp and drop our hands. “You have to go finish packing,” he addressed Oliver before he turned to me. “And you can tell your mother that she or you, or your sister, or whoever can come in next week.”
I knew before I had given myself to Oliver that it wouldn’t last, that he’d go away, that I would, too, because I trusted I’d get the scholarship, but I didn’t realize how painful it would be to say goodbye so abruptly, under the probing eyes of a hateful man, knowing that Oliver wasn’t well. I knew he’d be better off far away from here, and that gave me hope.
I never again entered the Madden house. My sister went until my mother was well enough again to work.
The next time I’d see Oliver would be four years later. He’d be back from London, and I’d be a married mother of two, and we would both force ourselves to relinquish each other once again.
Chapter 10
Oliver
Loser.
I remembered my father’s words. I certainly felt like one now. I had lost the fight against myself, ended up here, risking things I had no business risking. Risking people.
Knowing she was so close was a double-edged sword. I hated knowing she was here. I loved knowing she was here. I hated myself for entering her vicinity but longed to overcome the sixty feet of walls, garden, pool, and air that separated me from being closer to her.
Seeing her. Another double-edged sword. Both sides prickled. Seeing her and feeling that strange warmth in my chest, knowing that I couldn’t possibly allow myself to feel it or let it spread further.
The crust of cold rock that I had become still hid a well of hot rage in its depths, and I couldn’t let anything soften it for fear the lava would burst and burn something—someone.
Her.
