Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
OLIVIA
Olivia sat in her mother’s house the next day, savoring the warmth of her favorite mug against her hands.
It was a hearty, ugly, purple mug she’d painted in freshman art class, sitting next to Lily. She’d used it every time she’d come back home, from junior year onward.
So many years away.
Olivia had really only lived in Fairwick Falls for about ten years. She’d spent almost double that time away, yet it still was home.
How is that possible? That some places and people just stick with you? That some things just feel right, even though they make no sense?
A handsome face she’d kissed until her lips bruised last night came to mind, and she smiled over the memory.
“I said, will you go back to Pittsburgh to dance again?” her mom said, trying to catch her eye across the kitchen table.
Olivia blinked out of her thoughts. “Sorry, distracted. I don’t know.”
“Something bothering you?” her mom asked with a knowing smile.
Olivia rested her hands on top of the warm coffee and set her chin on them.
“I just feel… unsettled. I mean, my life.” Olivia shrugged.
“What even is it? I feel like the random stuff at the bottom of a purse. Sort of a dancer, sort of a teacher, sort of a nanny. I’m not sure if any of it fits anymore. I want to stay here—”
“For an obvious, handsome, beefy reason,” her mother chuckled into her coffee.
Olivia rolled her eyes but nodded in assent. “Obviously. But also seeing you and Pop, seeing Lily when she’s in town, and Wells. But I’m not cut out to teach dance classes to small children for the rest of my life.”
Her mother straightened her omnipresent rhinestone glasses and got down to business. “Tell me what you like about your job now? Dancing, I mean.”
Olivia twirled her mug, thinking. “I like discipline and working hard. Making things that bring people joy. I always liked the technical aspects of ballet, getting them just right. Meeting the challenge of finessing and perfecting something. It’s a lot easier for me than wrangling classes of young kids. More fulfilling.”
Her mom shrugged. “Then you make it work long distance with Luca.”
Olivia shook her head, feeling so torn. “This is bigger than him. Dancing in front of the audience felt great in the moment, but that’s ten minutes of the week.
Being back in the studio felt so… lonely.
After the performance, I thought I’d finally feel like I belonged.
Turns out… not so much.” She fought to keep her lip from quivering.
Her mother squeezed her hand and nodded kindly. “Sometimes the worst thing that can happen is you get exactly what you always wanted. And it turns out you wanted horse shit this whole time.”
Olivia laughed and blinked away the tears in her eyes. God, she’d missed her mom so much. The number of days she’d seen her since coming home two months ago was more than she had in the last ten years combined.
That realization made her stomach plummet. How much had she missed out on already?
Her mom shook her head. “The real question is: Is dance all there is to your life? Being a success?”
She’d never thought about it like that.
“I just wanted to be good enough for you and Dad. I needed to be amazing at dance to feel like I belonged in our family.”
Every six weeks, as a kid, she’d feel sick to her stomach knowing what was coming when report cards came out. Her father would call and yell, her mother would scold her for not trying harder. They’d tell her, “You’re a smart girl, just try harder,” which only made her feel worse.
Her mother looked surprised.
Hadn’t she known this on some level already?
“It was so hard to follow in Wells’s straight-A’s, advanced-classes footsteps. You didn’t notice me unless I danced, and I was good at that. It felt like the only thing I had to give myself a chance in the world. I’m dyslexic, it turns out. That’s why I had trouble in school.”
Her mom was surprised. “No,” she said, dismissing it as if that couldn’t be true.
Olivia stared at her, waiting for it to sink in. Her experience wasn’t up for debate.
Her mom put a hand to her lips in shock. “You are?”
Olivia nodded slowly. And I dealt with it on my own. Olivia thought about a little kid, tiny like Annabelle, braving it on their own, and her heart broke for how lonely she’d felt then.
“I am so, so, so sorry, Olivia.” Her mom leaped up and walked around the table to hug her hard, yanking off her glasses.
She sat next to her and held Olivia’s face.
“I didn’t care if you danced. I cared that you had friends.
That you were healthy and happy. You never had to earn my love, sugar pea.
I’d be proud of you if you… well, if you poured shots at The Thirsty Beaver.
” They both laughed, and Olivia squeezed her mom’s hand.
“I just wanted to see you happy, and I thought dancing made you that way. Turns out I had it backwards.”
Saying goodbye to dance felt scary. “Ballet is all I’ve ever known.” A tear dripped down Olivia’s nose. “You sacrificed so much for me. I feel like I should have done more with all that potential. Had a bigger life.”
“Sweetie. All that matters is if you’re happy. So, are you?”
Olivia thought about it. About the stark difference of being with her people, doing things that had nothing to do with dance, and how happy she’d been. How happy Luca made her.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Really, really happy. I feel good about myself here. Loved.”
Her mom squeezed her hand. “Honey, being loved completely is the biggest life there is. You can’t ask for anything better than someone shining love in all the places you need it.
Now.” She smacked the table and popped up to flutter around the kitchen.
“What does Olivia Maroo look like when you take away the dance? You took it so seriously, sweetie. At eight years old, you had your eyes set on being a professional. That’s twenty-five years of dogged determination.
I never saw a teenager who showed more discipline.
” She chuckled as she gathered ingredients in the kitchen.
Dance would always be part of her. It was sewn into her DNA now. Every muscle and joint would remember it until the day she died. But what else was there to her? She didn’t even know. “What if I waste my time and pick the wrong thing?”
Her mother shrugged. “If it makes you happy, it’s not wasted. Being happy is what time was made for, dear. Speaking of!” The front door closed, and Pop toddled in wearing his newsboy cap and flannel coat.
“Well, why didn’t you tell me there was a beauty pageant this morning?” He chuckled as he kissed her mom.
“Hi, Pop.” Olivia leaned into his quick hug. “Brought your shirts.” He’d needed some dress shirts taken in because he and her mother had started playing competitive pickleball.
“Ah, thanks. Your mom’s always so busy, and there’s no tailor in town. I hate driving on the highway to Elliotsville for a few old shirts.”
“No problem,” she said back, but he was already lost, staring at her mother with a lovestruck look as she flitted about the kitchen.
A spark of an idea hit her.
I like sewing. Most dancers had to learn to sew a little out of necessity.
They took care of their costumes in small ballet companies and did repairs as needed, sometimes custom fitting things like leotards or undergarments.
She liked that it was creative and technical, and she made something beautiful in the end.
Maybe I could even study costume design.
Or heck, redo my twenties and take gen ed college classes and see what I’ve been missing this whole time.
She’d gone down a rabbit hole listening to YouTube videos about forms of government preparing for Ballettopia with AB. Maybe that was what she might want to do. It turned out she really liked to learn once she knew how her brain worked.
I could live in the world of possibility, rather than only try for perfection. She rolled the idea around in her head.
It sounded scary, but she’d be here where she’d be loved, so that had to be better, right?
Find my next adventure and myself. The purple mug in her hands reminded her where her home had always been, and may always be.
Right where I belong.
* * *
LUCA
Luca’s heart beat hard against his ribs as he walked Olivia through the diner door with his hand over her eyes. Please god don’t let this be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had.
“Eyes closed, no peeking,” he said over the clanging of the bells on the diner door.
She looked confused. “Are those the diner bells?” she said, sniffing the air but keeping her eyes closed.
“Tada,” he said, wincing.
But her eyes went wide as she saw his surprise: Pop in his old apron and uniform, waiting beside a table.
“What?!” Olivia yelled in surprise.
“It’s just for tonight,” Luca said, relieved at her reaction.
“Hello, my girl,” Pop said with a laugh. “I’ll go get your drinks.”
“How?” Olivia asked as Luca helped her out of her coat.
“It wasn’t hard to convince the manager to let me have the diner all night because no one comes in anymore. I figured if you kept coming back, even though the food was terrible, there had to be some bigger reason. Maybe I could give you what you were looking for one more time.”
“A memory of my favorite place from my childhood?” She kissed his cheek, looking like she was going to melt. “This is an amazing first date.”
Phew.
Luca pulled out her chair for her, and they sat down at a small table where Pop had added a little vase and a battery-operated candle.
“Wells, my mom, and I would come here every day after school. Mom with her legal briefs, us with homework. Pop would make us eat some fruit first, but then we’d share this big plate of cheese fries.
It was our place, our home away from home.
Is that how you fell for her, Pop? Because we came in so often?
” Olivia smiled, charmed by him as he walked up with a tray.