Twenty-Five—Bo
A
s a general rule, I live for isolation. I’m good with my own company, and I get easily lost in my work. But I have to admit that the house seemed a little too quiet without Ivy and, of course, Mia who typically wandered in and out all day. I missed them, and it bothered me a little. Few knew that my most earnest fear was that my particular weirdness would someday completely overtake me and leave me unable to function on my own. But this wasn’t that. This was something else.
Ivy and her family had gone down to Carmel for a couple of days of exploring and reconnecting. It had been a surprise for Ivy, but for some reason that didn’t make sense to me, they’d taken Mia. I hadn’t been invited. Not that I would have gone, but it bothered me that I wasn’t invited. It also bothered me that I was being ridiculous about it. I was a mess.
No. No I wasn’t. This was good. It was good to have this time to myself; I needed to deep clean the dining room anyway. Especially since I’d seen a thin layer of dust on the wainscoting as I’d shown Ivy’s grandmother around the house. I was mortified, of course, but Geneva Talbot was a class act and pretended not to notice. She’d simply said flowery things like: The spirit of Lully’s sanctuary is so vibrant. And: Everything exudes loveliness... As if dust could exude anything but dust. It had made me blush, and she’d scolded me. “Now Benjamin,” she’d said, “none of that,” like she had read my mind. And that upset me for obvious reasons—I didn’t like people reading my mind. I was already haunted by her prognostication that if I could just learn to trust, I too could be a happy human .
Now, I tried to dismiss her antics, nice as they were, as just the ramblings of an equally nice old woman. But they rang a little too authentic for that. And with Geneva’s bull-horned declarations now added to the near-constant rumination of Ivy’s terrible parents, my brain was tired. I was worried about Ivy. And then there was that hug last week—half-hug—in the pool house that was so unexpected, so genuine, so non-anxiety-producing that my obsession over it had been nearly incessant. All I had done was inform Ivy that Mia and I were planning the little get-together with her family. But her reaction had been…raw and real gratitude. And she’d hugged me. Sort of. And only after asking my permission, which I don’t recall giving, but it happened anyway. And it was… nice .
I blew out a breath, and looked down at the chain I was beading where the price of my preoccupation became damningly clear. I groaned. I’d added in an errant amethyst to the long line of onyx beads. It looked absurd and I had no choice but to start over, which would put me a full—I checked the clock—thirty-six minutes behind schedule for the day. And to make matters worse, I thought I’d heard the chimes, which I couldn’t ignore since that sound was immediately followed by loud and insistent pounding on the front door. A delivery? That didn’t sound like a delivery knock.
Again, the chimes, followed by the knock. Something was wrong—something was terribly wrong. And though I almost took the time to obsess over the possibilities, instead I flew up the stairs.
On the porch stood Camille, with Scout close at her side sucking her thumb. My sister was holding a sleeping Olivia, whose arm was in a cast. I almost couldn’t take it in, the scene was so foreign. “Good Lord, Camille. What’s…”
She hurried past me and into the living room, where she laid Olivia down on the sofa. “The doctor gave her a sedative…” My sister looked up at me. “We need to stay here for a little while until I figure out what to do. And I need to pull my car into the garage just in case Peter knows more than I think he does.”
“What? What? ”
“Bo!”
“Okay,” I nodded.
“Scouty, I’ll be right back. Stay with Uncle Bo.”
I started to tingle. What was happening? I looked at my niece. “C’mere, Scouters,” I beckoned. Scout hesitated only an instant, and then she was in my arms. “Wh—what happened to Livvy?” I said.
Scout pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “She falled down the stairs.”
“What? Where was mommy?”
“Her was fighting with Daddy.” She started to whimper.
“Did daddy hit anyone?”
“He pushed Mama and Mama banged right into Livia. And Livia falled.”
I swallowed, pulled myself together. “I bet that was so scary, little one.”
My niece burrowed into me and started to cry.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Peanut,” I crooned, rubbing her back, feeling shell-shocked. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you here,” I heard myself say. “And not to Mommy, either. And not to Livvy. Everything will be okay. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I heard the garage door lower, and then Camille came back into the room. She looked like she’d slept in her clothes and her hair hadn’t been combed. “What happened?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Did you lock that door?” She said, moving past me. She checked the front door, then turned the deadbolt.
“Camille, did you call the police?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it wouldn’t matter. They’d arrest him, maybe, but he’d get out. I’m so terrified of him; I’d probably bail him out myself so he wouldn’t be mad. That worked out great the last time. Right? ”
“What about a restraining order?”
“Bo, he wouldn’t care!” Camille started to cry, then. “How the hell did I get here? This isn’t my life. What has happened to my life?”
I stared at my sister, thinking. You married a dog…You’re still married to a dog…
Scout shimmied out of my arms and over to her mom, where Camille picked her up. “It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t cry,” she said, patting Camille’s chin.
I swallowed, my heart a giant ache in my chest at the sight. “Of course it is!” I said with more confidence than I felt. “You’re here and we have ice cream, and everything is going to be fine.”
Scout’s eyes lit up a degree when I reached for her again. “Go take a shower, Camille,” I said to my sister. “You’ll feel better. Raid Mia’s closet.” With my spare hand, I slid the chenille throw over the still sleeping Olivia, then turned back to Camille. “Do it,” I glared. Then to my niece, I said, “C’mon, Scouters, I think we might even have sprinkles.”