The Absence of Olivia(79)

Gone were the trains and stuffed animals I’d left him with; they were replaced with nerf guns, a handheld gaming system, and spy toys. Jaxy had gone and grown up while we were apart.

It was thirty minutes of me just watching them, memorizing their new faces and their new facial expressions. I hardly said a word, but enjoyed listening to them tell me all about who they’d become in the last two years.

Suddenly, like a tidal wave, I became aware that their mother was still missing the wonderful children they’d become. I tried to keep it together, not wanting to cry in front of them, and instead, I asked where their bathroom was.

I disappeared down the hallway, found the bathroom, and locked myself in.

Even though I’d spent two years trying to get over Devon, I had never gotten over Olivia. She was, and would always be, the very best friend I ever had. It was easier to push back all the sadness losing her caused when the life she was missing wasn’t staring me straight in the face. I’d been so preoccupied with being able to deal emotionally with Devon, that I hadn’t spent any time preparing myself for the inevitable onslaught of emotion that seeing her family thriving without her would cause.

The bathroom was barren, only filled with the necessities. No rug was beneath the toilet to keep toes warm, no decorative towels hanging on the towel bar, just mismatched towels that looked like they’d been used to dry children that same day. No candles, no matching cup and toothbrush holder. It looked like a man’s bathroom.

That thought brought a smile to my face. He’d bought a new house and he was doing his best. It didn’t look like a woman lived here because one didn’t. He was a single dad and had given his family what they needed. A themed bathroom with matching accoutrements was not a necessity. Although, I laughed knowing Liv would die if she knew Devon had been letting company dry their hands on used towels.

I unrolled some toilet paper, because there was no Kleenex, and dabbed my face with it. Luckily, I’d worn waterproof mascara that day, so the damage was minimal. I cupped my hand under the faucet and brought some cool water to my lips, then took a few calming breaths.

I didn’t want the kids or Devon to see me upset. That wasn’t why I came to visit them today. And I knew later, while we were alone in our hotel room, Nate would hold me and let me cry all I needed. I needed to keep it together for a few more hours.

Once I felt like I was in control of my emotions, I flushed the damp toilet paper because Devon didn’t have a garbage can in his bathroom. I nearly laughed. Then I thought I would have to tell him in an email soon that with a nearly pre-teen daughter, he’d better get a garbage can ASAP.

When I left the bathroom, I could hear the kids and their father’s voice floating down the hallway from the kitchen. I started toward them, but I was caught by the photos hanging on the wall.

Most of them were the same photos that had been hanging in the house Olivia had lived in, but there were a few new ones. Jaxy’s first day of first grade, Ruby and Devon at a father-daughter dance, both of the kids with an older couple I vaguely remembered as Devon’s parents. It was a beautiful mixture of before Olivia and after.

At the end of the hallway was the living room, which I’d already walked through but hadn’t gotten a good look at. Stopping, I looked around the room and took it in, gasping, bringing my hand to my mouth.

Above their fireplace, at the focal point of their living room, was a large, beautiful print of a photo of Olivia. A photo I’d taken the day of her wedding before the ceremony while she was getting ready. She was smiling and mid-laughter. Her hair was curling around her face in soft ringlets, and pearls at her neck made the photo timeless. The silken robe she wore looked entirely as soft and luxurious as her smile. She was happy. And beautiful. And alive. Alive with so much more than just breath and a heartbeat. She was alive with love and happiness.

Anyone would see that picture and think the woman in it was happy.

I looked at that picture and knew Olivia was filled to the absolute brim with happiness the day that photo was taken. I remembered her happy. She was radiating with it. As the photo so powerfully demonstrated.

I’d tried not to look at photos of Olivia in the past few years. It was a sure trigger for tears. I thought about her often, but since LA was so removed from my life with her, I never got the chance to talk about her much. Even Nate was post Olivia on the timeline of my life. He asked about her every once in a while, but I think he knew it upset me, so she wasn’t a regular topic of conversation.

My eyes drifted from the happy photo and I noticed a few smaller photos throughout the living room. One was on the side table – a picture of Olivia hugging her children, both their faces smashed up against the sides of hers, all three smiling widely, Jaxy’s eyes closed because he was smiling so big. Another photo of Liv and Devon, both dressed up and looking fancy, probably at some work function for Devon. But they were connected at the sides, his arm around her back, her arm wrapped around his waist. Her other hand was resting against his chest and they were looking into each other’s eyes with obvious and abundant love.

That photo made me smile. Liv had loved him so.

On the back of their couch rested a blanket Liv had crocheted while on bedrest with Jaxy. I recognized it because I’d gone to the craft store and purchased all the supplies for it, then sat in her room, next to her bed, in a recliner Devon had moved in there just for me, as she crocheted nearly the whole thing.