But that’s not even the most emotional firework-ish part. That would be what he said to me afterward.
“If I tell you ‘I love you’ it’s because I mean it, not because it’s an expected response.”
Did he tell me he loves me? Or did he tell me that if he loved me, he’d mean it? Or was he just giving me some background on his I love you M.O.?
What the hell?
The more I think about it, the more I go over each word, the more confusing it becomes.
On autopilot, I dress quickly and run a brush through my hair before I hit the door and head down stairs. The house is quiet, so I’m careful not to make much noise. Mom is an early riser. A very early riser. She likes her morning time to be peaceful and my being here at all is one strike against me. I don’t need to do anything more to poke the bear.
“Who dressed you? A six year old? Your shirt’s on inside out.”
I look down and, sure enough, my t-shirt is on inside out.
Autopilot, you suck!
I wave her off. “I didn’t turn on the light. I’ll fix it before anyone else gets up.”
As if he’s happy to make a liar out of me, Gavin chooses that exact moment to enter the kitchen.
“Morning, ladies,” he says in his charming accent, his smile wide and pleasant. No one says anything for a few seconds, which doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. “Olivia, I can see where you get your looks. You didn’t tell me your mother’s such a beautiful woman.”
The urge to roll my eyes is strong. But then I start to feel sorry for Gavin. He is sooooo barking up the wrong tree!
“Another charmer, I see,” my mother says caustically, eyeing Gavin with disdain. “Your wiles might work on my daughter, but you needn’t bother with me. I’m all too familiar with your kind.”
“My kind?” Gavin clearly has no clue what she’s talking about. I probably should’ve forewarned him about Mom.
“Gavin, why don’t you get your shower first? It won’t take me long to get ready.”
“Are we in a hurry?”
“Well, not really. My first class doesn’t start for a while, but—”
“First class?”
“Yeah.” At his blank expression, I continue. “Class. Classroom. College. You know, school where I go to learn.”
Gavin frowns. “But you’re not going to class today.”
“Um, yes I am.”
“Um, no you’re not.”
“Um, yes I am. Why wouldn’t I?”
He looks pointedly at me and then tips his head slightly toward my mother. He doesn’t want to state his reasoning in front of her, but she totally misinterprets his action.
“Oh, don’t mind me. She doesn’t care what I think. Abuse her all you want.”
“Abuse her?”
“You don’t think keeping her from bettering herself is abuse? You don’t think ruining her life with your mere presence is abuse?”
“How am I—”
“Mom, that’s not what he’s doing. Look, it’s a long story. We can talk about it later. Right now,” I say, looking pointedly right back at Gavin, “he’s going for a shower while we have coffee.”
I don’t think Gavin particularly prefers the way I handled things, but he’s smart enough not to argue in front of my mother. I think he’s catching on to the bug up her ass pretty quickly.
He nods slowly and starts to back out of the kitchen. “Yeah, I do need a shower. I have some phone calls to make, too.”
After Gavin makes his uncomfortable exit, Mom and I are left with an equally uncomfortable silence. It’s not empty, though. No, it’s filled with all kinds of judgment and condemnation. She doesn’t have to say a word. It’s all right there on her face, plain as day, for all the world to see.
I sigh. “Mom, I know what—”
“Take my car,” she interrupts me to say.
“What?”
“Take my car. Go on to school. Don’t let that…person stand in your way. Be stronger than that, Olivia.”
I won’t even address the fact that she thinks I’m weak. She’s never really tried to hide her opinion from me. Or anyone else who might be interested in listening.
“Mom, you don’t know anything about Gavin. He’s a really good guy.”
“So you’ve said about all the other losers you’ve wasted your life chasing.”
“I haven’t chased them, Mom. And I haven’t wasted my life. I’ll be graduating soon.”
“And then going back to help your father, wasting away on that farm.”
“I don’t consider that wasting away.”
“Well, that’s obviously a matter of opinion. But these boys you keep latching on to. Olivia…” She shakes her head in exasperated disappointment.
“Mom, I may have made some poor choices in the past, but that doesn’t mean that every guy who might share some of the same…characteristics I like in a man is the exact same kind of guy. It’s possible to be a fun-loving person, but still be good and decent and kind.”
“I’m sure it is. But you never seem to find that kind.”
“I admit that I’ve not had great success in the past, but this guy is different, Mom. I can feel it.”
“Are you saying you’ve never ‘felt it’ before? Because I specifically remember us having a similar conversation about at least two of your previous causes.”
“They weren’t ‘causes,’ Mom.”
Arguing with her is exhausting.
“You called one of them a ‘fixer upper.’ What is that if not a cause? You want to fix these bad boys, Olivia. You want to change them, make them into something you can live with. But that’s never going to happen. Boys like that don’t ever change. And certainly not for a girl.”
“Some of them can.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. When one of them proves his love to you, I’ll never argue the point again. But until then…”
Until them, I’m just the dumbass that keeps falling in the same trap, over and over and over again.
“Do me one favor,” she says, reaching across the island to lay her hand on mine, a very rare show of affection and support.