Olivia (5 page)

"Walk. I love it. Yes, who will walk with me?" "If that's what you want to do," Arnold said
quickly. "I will."
Maybe he was the father after all, I thought.
She had denied it too quickly.
"I'm not sure yet. I'll think about it," Belinda
said coyly. She dangled her promise of acceptance
like bait and the three stood there nibbling like poor
dumb fish.
I retreated to the corner of the room where I sat
and watched and listened to them all go on and on
about their plans for graduation night. There was an
air of excitement about them that I longed to share. I
hadn't attended any graduation parties when I had
graduated. Daddy, Mother, Belinda and I simply went
to have dinner in the Steak and Brew House.
Afterward, I sat in my room and gazed out the
window into the night, thinking about the bonfires on
the beach, the music and the laughter I was not
sharing. No one had asked me to go and I hated
attending parties with my wallflower girlfriends. The
worst thing was to stand around and hope some boy
would show me some attention, as if I were a beggar
looking for a handout of affection. I would never give
any boy the satisfaction. If loneliness was the price to
pay until someone right came along, than that was the
price, I decided, and tried not to think about it. But it wasn't easy going to sleep and wondering
what sort of man would come knocking on my door,
bringing me boxes of candy and flowers and standing
around anxiously, waiting for a compliment, a look of
pleasure, a promise from my lips as did these three
hovering over Belinda.
"It's getting late," I finally announced. They all
turned to me as if just realizing I was still there. "Yeah, I've got to get to a rehearsal," Quin said.
"I hope you feel better," Arnold said.
"Me too," Peter followed.
Belinda sat forward, permitting the blanket to
fall too low again. The three sets of eyes widened and
held on the depth of her cleavage. I cleared my throat
loudly and nodded at her and she pulled the blanket
back up.
"I'll call you tomorrow," Arnold promised. They all made the same promise and then
started out. I followed them to the doorway and
watched them descend the stairs before turning back
to Belinda.
"Wasn't that nice?" she asked.
"Which one was it, Belinda?"
"Pardon?"
"You know what I mean. Who was the father?"
She shook her head.
"I told you. I don't know, Olivia. Besides,
Daddy said we shouldn't talk about it anymore," she
cried, turning her face to the pillow.
"Was it one of them? It was, wasn't it?" "Please, Olivia."
"Does he know, whoever it is? Does he know
what happened in this room?"
"Stop it, Olivia." She put her hands over her
ears. "I won't listen to you."
I closed in on her.
"Did you call him and tell him what went on,
what your father had to do? Did you?"
"No. I don't know who I would call, I told you." "Disgusting, Belinda. It's disgusting enough to
do what you did, but to not know . . ."
She started to cry.
"I'm going to get sick again and I won't be able
to return to school," she threatened.
"Won't that be a great loss for the school," I
muttered.
I left her sniffling and went downstairs to find
Daddy. He was in his office filing some papers. It was
where he kept all our personal tax documents and
family papers. He turned from the cabinet when I
entered.
"Don't you think that was nervy, coming here
like that, Daddy? Surely, one of them . . ."
"Don't, Olivia," he said, holding up his hand.
"We've put it out of mind."
"I know, Daddy. I'm just . . . so angry at her for
what she's done," I said.
"Yes, I know, but you've got to look after her,
Olivia. We've learned that lesson."
Why Daddy tolerated weakness in Belinda and
no one else, including my mother, was a question that
stuck like a bone in my throat.
"I'm depending on you to watch over her," he
said. "She'll listen to you."
"She hasn't up until now, Daddy. That's been
proven in a terrible way."
"I know, but I believe she will change," he
insisted.
I stared at him a moment and he had to shift his
eyes from mine, something he rarely did. We had an
unspoken but realized connection, an understanding,
Daddy and I. We knew we couldn't lie to each other. He was lying to me right now and he knew I
knew it. He didn't really believe Belinda could
change.
Why was he lying?
My anger at Belinda expanded like a balloon
filling with hate because she was making Daddy lie. Someday, I vowed, she would understand and
appreciate what she has done and she will beg
forgiveness. In my heart, however, I believed it would
be too late for me to grant it.
Remarkably, Belinda passed her finals in
English, just barely and with a great deal of tutoring. I
had the distinct impression, however, that she also got
a little help from her teachers, maybe because of
Daddy's position in the community. During the week
before the graduation ceremony, Mother asked Daddy
to take us to Boston to find a nice dress for Belinda.
She wanted her to look special. It was as if Mother
had discovered a way to compensate for the terrible
thing that had occurred: to dwell on Belinda's
festivities so intensely there was no time to think
about or remember anything else. In one spending
spree, she would wipe away the dark clouds that clung
to the corners of our home. There would be no
shadows, no reminders, nothing but bright and happy
things. Daddy seemed more than eager to please her
and follow her lead to the world of "see no evil, hear
no evil."
At the last moment Mother decided to outdo
even herself and have a designer come to our home
and create an original dress for Belinda to wear. The
cost would easily be three times as expensive as an
off-the-rack dress, but once again, Daddy surrendered
before any battle and to my surprise, put away his
famous measurement of "What's the bottom line?"
This time, there was no bottom line.
I had to admit Belinda looked beautiful
graduation day. It was a perfect afternoon for an
outdoor graduation ceremony, too. A gentle, warm
breeze came in from the ocean, and the sky was
turquoise with puffs of clouds moving imperceptibly
across the horizon.
It had been decided that Belinda would attend
the same finishing school I had attended, only she
would go immediately and start with their summer
session. Daddy thought it was wise to get her away as
quickly as he could, and get her into formal training to
make her more of a lady. His intentions were clear: he
wanted her to be a prize for the right young man. My graduation couldn't be held outside. It had
occurred on a rainy day. The auditorium was stuffy
and very uncomfortable with dozens of small children
crying, flashbulbs going off everywhere, proud parents and grandparents waving and gaping like visitors at a zoo. I had felt like a caged animal, squeezed in with my classmates, waiting for the
speeches to end.
Belinda's graduation was more like a grand
picnic.
Streamers and balloons decorated the grounds.
Sunshine made everyone look bright and alive, full of
happiness. Young children could go off and play, out
of the way of the adults. The "Pomp and
Circumstance" march flowed melodiously through the
warm air. Everyone rose and the graduates, all
looking cheerful and excited, came down the aisle to
take their seats on the platform.
Maybe because it wasn't my graduation, it also
seemed to go a lot more smoothly. The speeches
weren't as long and before we knew it, they were
handing out the diplomas. Daddy surprised me with
his excitement, behaving just like all the other proud
fathers, rushing down the aisle to take a picture of
Belinda accepting her diploma. When I graduated, he
relied on the professional group photographer and
never moved from his seat. Belinda took her diploma
with her usual flair, practically spinning completely to
beam a smile in his direction.
"Thank heavens," Mother muttered beside me.
"I had my fears."
Afterward, we celebrated at the Clam and
Claw, a seafood restaurant near the Point. Daddy
invited some of his business associates to join us and
pretty quickly into the celebration, I saw that Belinda
was getting bored. She exploded with happiness as
soon as Peter Wilkes appeared at the restaurant. "Oh, good," she said as he approached. "I
thought I would die of boredom."
"What's this?" Daddy said interrupting his
conversation to look up at Peter.
"I guess I'm a little early," Peter said. "That's all right. Isn't it, Daddy?" Belinda
followed with exuberance.
Daddy smiled with embarrassment at his
guests. "Well . . . you haven't finished your meal yet,
Belinda."
"Oh, I can't eat anymore, Daddy."
"Where are you going?" I asked when she
stood.
"To the beach party, silly. Remember? Daddy
said it was all right," she added.
I looked at Daddy. His eyes met mine and then
slipped away quickly.
"Well, now you get home early, Belinda.
Graduation or no graduation . ."
"Oh, Winston, don't be an ogre," Mr. Collins
said. He was one of Daddy's business partners. "A
young girl graduates high school only once." "Thank heavens for that," Mother said and
everyone at the table but me laughed.
Belinda rushed around the table to give
everyone a hug and a kiss. She even stopped to throw
her arms around me.
"Thank you, big sister," she said. "I love the
suitcase."
I had given her a quality piece of luggage for
her trip to finishing school. It was a practical gift, one
of the few she had received.
Peter gave me a weak smile and hurried along
as Belinda tugged on his hand.
"Bye," he called.
I gazed at Daddy. He watched, them go, looked
at me, and then turned to talk to Mr. Collins. We left the restaurant a little over an hour later.
The night proved to be as beautiful as the day. It was
actually balmy. I looked out toward the ocean as we
drove home and thought how wonderful it must be to
be at a beach party right now. A nearly cloudless sky revealed so many more stars. The Big Dipper never
looked as clear or sharp.
When we arrived at home, I went directly to my
room. All I wanted to do was fall asleep, fall asleep
and forget, fall asleep and dream I was someone else,
someplace else. It took me a long time because I
tossed and turned, lying there at times with my eyes
wide open. Sleep was behind a locked door and not
ready to embrace me.
You have to suffer first, I thought. You have to
suffer with your loneliness.
I finally fell asleep only to be woken by a
gentle and then loud knock on my door. At first I
thought it was part of a dream. Then I sat up and
heard it again.
"Yes?"
Daddy poked his head between the door and
jamb. "I hate to bother you, Olivia, but . . . well, your
mother's worried, too."
"Worried? Why?"
"It's nearly three in the morning and Belinda
has not come home."
"That never worried you before," I said sharply.
He hesitated.
"Yes, well, considering what happened . ." "We aren't supposed to talk about it, Daddy," I
snapped. I wasn't feeling very charitable.
"Please, Olivia."
"What do you want me to do, Daddy?" "Could you go look for her?"
"At the beach?"
"Yes," he said. "We don't want her to get into
any more trouble."
"I can't believe she would do anything like that,
Daddy," I said. He remained in the doorway. "I'm more worried about your mother," he said.
"All right," I said. "I'll go find her."
"Thank you, Olivia."
I rose and put on a pair of slacks and a sweater.
I grabbed my light jacket on the way out and hurried
down the corridor and stairs, driven mostly by anger.
How could she be so insensitive and selfish? She
knew what Daddy and Mother had suffered. No
matter how generous and forgiving they were, Belinda
always took advantage.
I got into my car and headed for the beach road
I knew they had taken. There was one area on the east
end that the school kids always favored, even before
my day. Sure enough, as I started down the road, I
saw cars were still parked there. This was going to be
an all-nighter.
I found a space and parked and then plodded
over the sandy beach toward one of the bonfires. I
heard laughter to my right and radio music caught in
the wind. It whipped at my hair and spit some sand
into my face. The ocean roared in on a line of
whitecaps.
I saw couples wrapped in blankets around the
fire, but none of the girls was Belinda. They gazed up
at me curiously. Some even had bottles of whiskey
and wine.
I continued toward the next bonfire, my anger
boiling over like a pan of hot milk. Once again, I did
not see Belinda, but I did recognize Marcia Gleason
and Arnold Miller. Arnold nearly jumped out of his
blanket when he saw me bearing down on them. "Where's my sister?" I demanded.
"Belinda?" he said stupidly, sitting up slowly. I
could see Marcia was topless under the blanket. "No, my other ten sisters. Of course, Belinda.
Where is she?"
"I'm not sure . ."
"Someone is going to get into a lot of trouble if
I don't find her within the next minute," I threatened.
"Do your parents know where you are and what you're
doing right now, Marcia?" I asked pointedly. "I thought she went home," Marcia whined.
"The last time I saw her she was going for a walk with
Quin over the hill," she added, nodding toward the
bank behind them. I glared down at her a moment. "I hope I don't have to come back," I said and
started toward the small rise in the beach. I heard
Arnold chastising Marcia for telling me anything. For a long moment after I reached the peak of
the small hill, I saw nothing. Then, I caught a
movement to my right and spotted two heads popping
out of a sleeping bag. I drew closer. The movement
within the bag was not hard to translate. It brought the
blood to my face.
"Belinda!" I screamed, but my voice was
carried off by the wind. I screamed it again as I
approached and finally, they both stopped and
hesitated. I called her again.
"Olivia?" I heard her say.
"Damn you," I cried and they scurried like rats,
Quin groping for his clothing on the sand. He was
pulling up his pants by the time I stepped up beside