Chapter 18 Olivia
“Bye, Juliette. Have a good dinner shift.”
Deb holds the restaurant door open for me as our boss waves back.
She’s managed to hire a couple more servers, both fun and friendly, since we got slammed on the holiday weekend.
That means that Hayley and Kevin are outnumbered by people who like me.
Plus, I sometimes get to do only the lunch shift. A win–win.
“You riding your bike?” Deb jangles her car keys as we step down to beach level. “I can give you a ride home if not.”
“Thanks, but yes, I’m on my bike. And I think I’ll stay on the beach a while. It’s so beautiful today and I’ve got my new book. You get home to Frank.”
Deb waves farewell as she heads for the parking lot, and I step out onto the sand. It’s just past 5 p.m. and the sun is still high. The air out here feels almost as hot as the Beach House kitchen, with its sizzling pans and deep-fat friers. But I’ve always loved the heat.
I plop cross-legged onto the sand and rub sunscreen into my skin.
It’s the same brand as the one I’ve always used — was using at the quarry lake the last time I saw Jake.
My Jake, the real one. He was rubbing it into my back just before I fell over the cliff.
The tropical coconut scent of the lotion reminds me of him, of our summers together.
So many summers. I never got sick of him. Nor that smell.
I pull out my journal and pen, along with the novel Mom discarded after she was done with her latest book club.
Since she’s lived at Landfall and joined the ladies book group, she’s bought a hot new title every month, so her bookshelves are now crammed with great reads.
In my old reality, I often borrow Mom’s new books once she’s done with them, and I’ve picked up that habit here.
Guess some things are the same in both worlds.
I’ve started writing a list of elements in my life that are the same, and those that are different, to see how I’ve affected things. I open my journal to the page I’ve dog-eared for the purpose.
Different than my old life
? I’m a non-person who died aged 12, no ID or Social Security, no design business, etc. etc.
? Jake and all my friends don’t know me
? Mom and Dad’s home décor, terrible and for sure not done by me :O
? Mom now religious, believes I’m a miracle
? Charlotte has a daughter, Taylor (!!) b/c Jake and I weren’t at party to stop her one-night stand with Craig Phillips
? Jake doesn’t work at Refuge Advocacy Int’l — instead some private law firm
? Jake has a girlfriend, Savannah, and lives in a condo at the beach
? Jake and I never bought our place together, new family now lives there
? Nicole doesn’t have her own fashion line, instead works as a buyer
? Jake’s brother Ed never met Annabelle on Match
Same as old life
? Mom and Dad live in same house at Landfall, moved there from our old house in same year
? Parents’ hobbies (book club, bridge, fundraising, golf, poker)
? Mom’s yellow bike (selected without my influence, even tho I showed it to her in my version)
? Charlotte still works at Zara, even tho her path was different, and lives downtown
? Jake is still a lawyer
? Jake surfs
? Jake still prioritized a home near the beach over being close to downtown office
? Sara and Ben still married and have same kids
? Other friends’ lives seem unaffected in major ways
There must surely be countless more items to add to this list, tiny ways I affected people’s lives — or failed to — since I was twelve. But it’s impossible to know what they all are.
And it’s surprising how many things are the same. I always thought my high-school friend Sara would never have got together with her now-husband Ben if I hadn’t steered her toward him at prom. But it seems they found their own way, without my involvement.
I met Sara when I was fourteen, and Nicole when I was nineteen — yet in this reality, my two closest girlfriends haven’t even heard of me. They’re not even friends with each other in this world, as I introduced them. In my world, we’ve hung out as a trio since our early twenties.
I jot this additional thought down in my ‘Different’ column and turn to my Liane Moriarty novel.
But it’s hard to focus while I’m obsessing over the minutiae of my parallel realities.
My gaze slides up to the blue horizon. This section of beach is a little further north than where Jake surfs, but there are a couple of figures far out in the swell.
I lie back on the warm sand, closing my eyes, slowing my breathing. I’ve been attempting moments of mindfulness to quiet my ever-racing thoughts. Doing my utmost to live in the present and embrace my blessings.
Warm sun on my skin. Soft sand at my back. A gentle breeze caressing me. The crash of the ocean on the shore. My body, young and vital.
The skin on my thighs cools as a shadow passes over them. I open my eyes, squinting into the sun. A tall person, silhouetted against the bright light, is standing directly over me.
“Hey,” a low voice says.
Jake.
I start upright into his shadow, looking up at him. He’s in red shorts and a blue T-shirt. Same simple dress sense as ever. I make a mental note for my list.
“Uh, hey,” I reply. “I . . . wasn’t expecting to see you.”
Jake gestures over his shoulder toward a waterfront condo complex. “That’s my building,” he says. “I was on my deck and spotted you on the beach. Figured maybe we could talk. If that’s okay with you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Sure. Of course. Uh . . . wanna sit?”
He drops down beside me, mirroring my crossed legs. He stares out at the water, which is softening to a deep cornflower blue in the late sun.
“I hope Savannah didn’t offend you the other night, after we had dinner at the restaurant.” His words are slower than usual. “I couldn’t stop her from talking to you, so I was a coward and waited outside.”
I let out a small laugh. “No. She was fine. Told me to stay away, but she was surprisingly sweet about it. She seems like a nice person.”
He nods. “Yeah, she’s great.” He turns his head to look directly at me, his eyes clear, blue. “We’re very happy. Been together three years. I’m planning on proposing next month, on her birthday.”
I manage to force a smile, even though my stomach is churning. “How did you guys meet? She seems . . . young.”
“She’s twenty-five, only three years younger. We met at a charity event my law firm was sponsoring when I was a new associate there. She’d been hired to do the event’s social media. Savannah is a social media influencer and model, and does PR work on a freelance basis.”
“Right.” I draw a face in the sand, but can’t bring myself to give it a smile. I flick it out of existence.
Jake watches my finger. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.
Everything you told me. If you’re really Livvie Grainger, back from the dead.
It feels like . . . I dunno. It’s really freaky.
Like you’re here to give me some kind of closure about that day, the day you died, when we were kids.
I totally blamed myself for your death. I’ve been living with the guilt for sixteen years. ”
I examine his face. It looks sadder than I’ve ever seen it.
“Jake. We were stupid kids at a quarry and nobody knew we were there. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” I hesitate. “How did it happen? If you don’t mind talking about it.” I have little memory of that day, apart from what my Jake has told me when reminding me of his heroics.
Jake meets my gaze, nodding slowly. “I’d done a big running jump into the water, and I ran back up to the top of the cliff.
You were on the edge, trying to figure out whether you could do it too.
You turned to me and slipped on the scree and went kinda slowly over the edge.
I grabbed for you, had a grip of your wrists, but my hands were still wet and greasy from sunscreen.
I couldn’t hold on. You slipped through my fingers, right down onto the rocks that you’d just been figuring out how to clear. Your body was just . . . broken.”
His voice catches. “I totally freaked, of course. Ran down, and tried to pick you up, but I couldn’t.
I stayed on the rocks with you for . . .
I don’t know how long, just crying and holding you.
My old lab Ginny was there, going nuts. Eventually I had to leave you.
Ginny wouldn’t run home with me. She stood guard over you the whole time until I came back with my folks.
” He rubs the back of his hand against his eye.
“It was the worst day imaginable. Your poor parents . . .” He trails off, screwing up his nose, blowing out a hard breath.
I raise both eyebrows. “Jesus. That must’ve been horrific.
But . . . it wasn’t your fault, you know.
It really wasn’t.” I put a hand over his.
“And look. I’m here now. There’s a world in which you saved me that day.
For me, it was different. You grabbed me, and I was fine.
I barely even remember the incident, although you’ve reminded me about saving my life often enough.
” I emit a quiet chuckle. “It’s kind of annoying, actually. ”
Jake manages a half-smile. “It’s so wild.
You died that day, but here I am, talking to you on the beach.
And I know it’s you.” He studies my face.
“I knew the moment you came up to me last month. You’re unmistakable.
I always knew you’d turn out to be . . .
you know. Beautiful. I didn’t even need to see that little scar to know it was you.
Your face, your voice, everything. Older, but the same.
So, yeah, I’m sitting here talking to a dead girl.
” He’s sifting sand through his fingers.
“If you didn’t have a job at the Beach House, if Kevin and Hayley hadn’t been bad-mouthing you, and if Savannah hadn’t approached you, I’d think you were a figment of my imagination.
” His gaze wanders away. “Or a ghost. You always believed in ghosts when we were little.”