“Now I really am going to say sorry. How mad was he?”
“Who? Beau? He wasn’t mad, but I think your dad might not be on his list of favorite people.” This makes her laugh. It’s throaty and full until I hear her let out a deep sigh. “Olivia, what’s wrong?”
“You called me Olivia.” Her words are soft, almost a whisper.
“I did. You are not okay. I can tell, and this is serious. I need you to tell me what’s going on. Howie mentioned you have a lot on your plate. Let me help you,” I say, pleading with her to let me in.
“What did Howie say?” Her voice goes up an octave, and my heart thumps in my chest. What does he know that I don’t, and why didn’t my new friend tell me?
“He didn’t say anything. Just that you have a lot going on and that you aren’t ghosting me. What does he know that I don’t? Because I’m trying here, babe. But I can’t force you to open up to me.”
“He doesn’t know anything, not really anyway. It’s just that, well, it’s embarrassing.” She pauses, and I hear her moving around like she’s sinking under her blankets. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“You never have to be embarrassed to tell me anything. I’m on your side here. Please just let me in,” I say, trying to convince her, again.
She sucks in a breath before saying, “Okay, fine. My parents aren’t like yours. They aren’t warm and inviting. They think my being here is throwing away everything they’ve ever done for me.”
“Why would they think that?”
“Because I’m supposed to get married.”What the hell did she just say?
“Um, excuse me, what? You’re engaged?”
She bursts out laughing. A full-blown wheezing-for-air laugh that would be hilariously delightful if I didn’t feel like I made out with someone else’s fiancé a few days ago. “No. No, no, no. I’m not engaged, nor have I ever been engaged. But they think I should be, to Theodore Wilson the Third, heir to the Wilson Oil Empire and esteemed member of the Mobile Country Club.” Her voice gets very high-pitched as the words tumble from her lips. “But it’s never going to happen. I refuse to be put into a little box where I have no purpose, and that’s exactly what I’d be settling for.”
“A couple things. First, I’m glad you aren’t settling because you deserve the world and it would be a fucking shame for anyone to give you less than that. Second, I’m glad you’re not engaged, I mean, that would totally suck for me. But I have to ask, was there anything between you and Ted?” She laughs again, a bright melodic sound.
“No,Tedhas always been a no-fly zone. There’s only one person I’m even remotely interested in, but I’m fairly certain he’s going to get sick of me soon.” Olive is nervous, I can tell by the way her words trail off.
“Olivia, I need you to listen to me. If you’re talking about me, and I hope you are, there is zero chance of me getting sick of you. You’ve captivated my every thought since the second I saw you.” I do my best to reassure her. I know it’s too early to be making promises, but I can sense that she needs the stability right now. I also know in my heart that even if she decided she didn’t want me, I’d still ask how high if she told me to jump. Women like her don’t fall for men like me. I’m lucky to be in her presence at all.
“Sam . . . you’re too good to me.” She sighs heavily, or maybe it was a yawn. “Tell me more about Howie. I didn’t know you guys hung out.”
“I mean, there’s not much to tell. I ran into him, and we drank our sorrows away. Me worrying about you—do not apologize—and him over some girl he’s in love with. He wouldn’t tell me who.” She squeals, and a delighted, robust sound vibrates through the phone. “I take it that means you know who it is.”
“I have a hunch, but I’m not sure. I hope it’s Ari.”
“Actually, I could see that. There’s a weird vibe between those two. Do I need to let you get back to your parents?” I don’t want to cut this off, but if they are waiting, I don’t want to be the reason she’s being rude.
“No. When can I see you again?” She changes the subject flawlessly, and I’m left with more questions. I can’t imagine her leaving them to sit in the living room alone, but they couldn’t have just come for one day, not a thousand miles, right? Something is up.
“Well, I’m free tomorrow night, if you’re not entertaining your guests.” I try bringing it up in a different way.
“I’m free. How about if I plan a date this time. Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Alright. I’ll see you at seven.” She clearly yawns this time. “Go to sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow, sweet girl.”
“Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Olive.”
We hang up, and I abandon my plan to shower, instead drifting off to thoughts of Olive. She’s hiding something. It’s not a fiancé, but there’s more to the story. I don’t know how I know, but I feel there’s something just out of reach every time we talk.
seventeen
Olive
Ghosts in the Graveyard
