The Impossible Story of Olive In Love Page 8

I collapse on the couch next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. ‘Of course,’ I say.

  He squeezes my knee. ‘Well Hallelujah for that, I’ve missed you.’

  ‘So you’re okay with me being invisible?’ I mutter against his arm.

  Felix laughs. ‘It doesn’t change anything between us. You’ve always been invisible to me.’

  I’m so relieved. I squeeze his bicep. Thank god for Felix.

  ‘But how are you, really?’ he asks. ‘Your columns have been a little lacklustre of late.’

  ‘I’ve been too busy to spend time on Wynona.’ I can’t help grinning now. ‘I made up with Tom.’

  He smacks my leg with triumph. ‘I knew he’d come back begging.’

  ‘He didn’t. I did.’

  ‘You just got in first. I bet he was just about to call.’

  ‘Yeah right.’

  We are silent for a bit after that, just soaking each other in. And even though I haven’t missed Felix as much as I should have because I’ve been with Tom, it is wonderful to have him back.

  ‘I’m also sorry about mentioning Jordan,’ he says finally. ‘That wasn’t fair either.’

  Oh he’s just Mr Apology today, isn’t he. ‘Yeah, whatever.’

  ‘I am, honestly.’ He pats my thigh. ‘Why did you stop being friends with her anyway? Did she get to know the real you?’

  I lift my head from his shoulder, slap him, then go to get myself some water. ‘She developed polio. She had to move to Quebec for the climate,’ I call from the kitchen.

  ‘Can you handle telling me the truth this time?’ he asks all earnestly, as I return to the couch.

  That annoys me. He thinks I can’t handle it.

  ‘Rose banned me from seeing her, okay?’ I snap at him. ‘She said it was too damaging for Jordan. Her parents were starting to freak out. Ten-year-olds don’t have imaginary friends, apparently.’

  I feel Felix bristle beside me.

  It makes me arc up more. ‘I thought you believed me!’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Body language, bub! You’ve got to take some lessons.’

  He looks contrite. ‘Sorry, I do believe you but I guess it’s going to take some time to get used to. And I do try to remember the body stuff. But it’s hard.’

  The poor thing. It must suck not being able to understand how much your body communicates. I lean forward and pass him his water. ‘Here.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He takes a sip. ‘So you stopped seeing Jordan when you were both ten? That’s not right. You’ve hung out with her since I’ve known you.’

  I fiddle with my shirt sleeve. ‘I didn’t stop going to see her—I just stayed quiet when I went over. She didn’t know I was there.’

  ‘Really?’ His jaw slackens with surprise.

  ‘She was my best friend, I couldn’t just stop seeing her.’ My voice is wavering, Felix can tell I’m upset.

  ‘Of course not,’ he says to comfort me.

  ‘I told Jordan I was leaving. That I was moving to India to marry an elephant mahout. We both had a crush on Mowgli from The Jungle Book,’ I explain.

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Anyway, we hugged and cried and cried and then I left. But I stood watching her through the window. Her mother let her watch TV to distract her from her crying. Jordan never got to watch TV so I was happy for her. God, I was so young and stupid.’ I lie down on the couch with my head in Felix’s lap, looking up at the ceiling. ‘So after that, I kept hanging around but I never let her know I was there. I know it’s creepy, watching someone like that, but being near her gave me comfort.’

  ‘So every time you told me you’d been hanging out with Jordan, you were really stalking her?’

  ‘Yep. My own pathetic Fatal Attraction nightmare.’

  ‘And I was so jealous you wouldn’t introduce us.’

  ‘You were?’

  ‘Of course. It’s obvious how important she was to you.’ He tries to find my hand but ends up poking my stomach. I push it away. I can’t handle his kindness right now. ‘So why did you stop the stalking?’ he asks, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

  ‘It was horrific,’ I say, staring at the ceiling. ‘One afternoon when she was walking home from school, Jordan went into this service station to get an icy-pole and she came out with this guy from her school, Matt. He was pretty hot and I was silently congratulating her, like any best friend would. I watched them unpeel the wrappers and plop them in the bin. Then all of a sudden Jordan looked over her shoulder, directly at me. I—I thought she’d seen me. That finally, we could be real friends—but of course she hadn’t. She looked confused and she turned back to Matt. They walked ahead of me to the intersection and just as I caught up I heard Matt say, “Sounds weird. Maybe you’ve got a stalker.”

  ‘And she laughed, and she said, “Sure. Who’d stalk me?”

  ‘And he said, “I would.’’’

  I sit up, cross my legs on the couch and clutch Felix’s arm. I want him to understand the gravity of that day for me.

  ‘It was awful,’ I continue. ‘This guy was just so into her and I couldn’t help staring at his lips; plump, juicy slabs of flesh, great for kissing—they had to be—and I felt this massive jealousy rip through me.’

  Felix grins at me. ‘You needed kissing? I would have kissed you.’

  ‘Argh. Gross. Like I would ever.’ I slap him. ‘But it wasn’t just that. He was giving her this “you’re so gorgeous I can’t believe you’re talking to me” look and she was pretending not to notice. She was just cool as a cat. Do you know what I mean? It made me feel so ill, that she took someone looking at her like that for granted. I wanted to yell at her to appreciate it.’

  ‘Okay …’ Felix says.

  ‘And then, he asked if she was going to some party. She said “maybe”. And do you know what he said?’

  There is a moment of silence until Felix understands I’m waiting for him to respond. ‘What?’ he says.

  I deliver the line with the frustration and disbelief I’m still feeling after all this time. ‘It would be good to see you there.’

  Felix raises his eyebrows. ‘It sounds like a pretty standard response to me.’

  ‘See you? See you?’ I wait for the light to go on in Felix’s head. But I get no response. ‘It did me in, Lix. I was Mario without his cart. Not. Going. Anywhere. The little man on the pedestrian crossing sign went green and I let them leave without me. I didn’t want to despise Jordan. I didn’t want to hear about how people noticed her. About how they wanted her to go to parties just so they could see her.’

  Felix doesn’t speak.

  ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ I bump his elbow. It’s kind of annoying when he turns off like this. ‘Did you hear me at all, bub?’

  His mouth twitches up, he likes it when I call him bub. God knows why, it’s supposed to be an insult.

  ‘You want men to worship you,’ he replies. ‘Plant you on a pedestal and gaze upon you in awe.’

  ‘Golly, when you put it like that …’

  His face turns earnest. ‘I see you, Olive,’ he says. ‘I see you like no one else.’

  I can’t respond at first. It’s almost painful how close he is to echoing the gypsy’s words all those years ago.

  I have to laugh it off. ‘Ha. As if,’ I say. ‘You’re blind, I’m invisible—what are the chances?’ I lay back down on the couch, putting my feet in his lap. ‘My dashing Thomas on the other hand, he really can see me.’

  ‘Well good for him.’ Felix pinches my toes. ‘I bet you’re ugly anyway.’

  CHAPTER

  14

  I’m determined to make things fun for Tom. I don’t want him leaving me for his stupid friends, so when he turns up tonight I have a surprise.

  ‘Let’s go out tonight,’ I say, after I loop my hand around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

  ‘But you’re invisible,’ he says, like I’m dying. It’s just an act—he always mocks me abo
ut the invisible thing like I’m a hypochondriac or something. I wish I made this thing up.

  ‘So you don’t want to go to SkarNutter?’ I ask him, enjoying how his face transforms with complete disbelief.

  ‘SkarNutter? Are you serious?’

  I hand him my phone. On the screen is the media invite: SkarNutter; tonight at Spectrum Stadium.

  Tom almost drops the phone. ‘You’ve got tickets? How?’ he demands. ‘They sold out in like two minutes.’

  I shrug, enjoying myself immensely. ‘Just one of the perks of being a celebrity reporter.’ I walk into the living room where Rose sits painting her toenails black. Tom follows eagerly.

  ‘Hi Rose. Can you believe this? SkarNutter! I mean …’ Unsurprisingly Tom can’t find any more words to express his excitement.

  ‘I take it you’re a fan?’ Rose says, still looking at her nails. ‘They sound like they belong in a mental asylum to me.’

  ‘What? Even “Bacon Deal”?’ Tom is shaking his head. ‘It’s a classic.’

  I reach up for his hair, it’s warm and golden flecked like a butterscotch cookie. ‘I’ve got backstage passes too.’

  ‘Backstage? Holy hell!’ Tom just about shouts it. He is wriggling on the spot now, as excitable as I get sometimes. I can’t help laughing.

  But Rose is scowling. ‘From Dawn?’

  Dawn is an awesome PR chick who is always doing me favours but Rose thinks she’s fake and pretentious.

  ‘Why do you have to have such a problem with her? She’s my friend.’

  ‘She’s paid to act like a friend,’ Rose corrects me. I ignore her. Dawn and I are close. We speak probably once a week on the phone. Sure, we’ve never exactly met face-to-face, but that’s not an option is it?

  ‘Well, she sure hooked me up tonight.’

  Rose just sighs and dips the brush back into the polish.

  Tom flops down next to her. ‘So you’re not coming?’

  ‘I don’t have a choice. I’m a Social Butterfly.’ The words drip with sarcasm.

  Social Butterfly is the name of the gossip column I write under the alias Wynona Wyatt. Wynona has become somewhat of a city phenomenon over the years and is famous for her undercover discoveries: celebs behaving badly, secret hook-ups, shady business dealings. Nobody quite knows how she does it. Of course it’s just me snooping around unnoticed. It’s not that hard with my unique gift. But Wynona needs a face or people would get suspicious—that’s where my reluctant sister comes in.

  Tom looks confused.

  ‘Rose is the “face of Wynona”,’ I explain. ‘I do the writing and reporting, Rose just swans around getting the royal treatment.’

  Rose snorts. ‘It’s not that fun, believe me.’

  ‘It’ll be better with Tom there,’ I tell Rose. ‘You’ll have company.’

  Rose’s mouth twists as she looks at him. ‘So you want to go?’

  ‘Of course!’

  Rose goes back to her nails with another heavy sigh. She was hoping Tom would rather stay home but he looks so excited she’d have to stick her heart in a freezer to say no to him.

  ‘You’re sure he can pick up the rules in one night?’ she asks me.

  ‘There are rules?’ he says.

  ‘There are many rules,’ Rose replies. ‘And if you don’t master them you look a straight fool.’

  ‘Like what?’ he says.

  I start the list. ‘Don’t stand in a thoroughfare or people will try to walk through me. Open doors for me or it looks like there’s a spook in the house. What else?’

  ‘What else? Ha!’ Rose snorts. ‘Don’t talk to her, don’t look at her—’

  ‘Don’t look at me?’ Now that is disappointing.

  ‘Well, don’t make weird, “what do you want to do now?” faces. Remember that night at Hoi Jai’s? That photographer snapped me pulling a shocker!’

  Reluctantly I admit she’s right. ‘It’s all about maintaining your cover.’

  ‘So I have to pretend you’re not there?’

  I don’t like the thought of that at all. It is okay when it’s Rose, I don’t mind her going off and having fun, but with Tom, suddenly I can’t stand the thought of him there by himself, a gorgeous beacon pulling women toward him with that cracking smile.

  ‘Maybe it is too much …’

  ‘What? No. Please! Come on, I can do it,’ Tom pleads.

  How can I say no to that face? It’s off to SkarNutter we go.

  CHAPTER

  15

  When Rose reaches over me to rest her hand on Tom’s thigh in the taxi, I begin to comprehend how complicated this could become.

  Tom looks at me in alarm. He doesn’t understand that Rose is trying to hide my seatbelt. If the taxi driver glanced back, it would look like my seatbelt was hanging in mid-air. Rose is super cautious about stuff like that.

  I try not to show Tom that it bothers me. He is pretending to be Rose’s boyfriend tonight and it has to look real. I insisted on this in order to fend off other girls. With a horrible sense of dread I wonder how far this charade will need to be pushed.

  I dressed Rose because she is incapable of anything beyond jeans and a sweater. I put her in a short skirt and long leather boots, pulled her red hair up, gave her huge silver hooped earrings and deep brown lipstick.

  I’m wearing pink gauzy tulle. My hair is messed into a bird’s nest and I’ve got thick black kohl around my eyes. Make-up is tough when you can’t see yourself but I like experimenting with it, even if I can’t see the results. Tom said I look like a ballerina on crack, which I choose to take as a compliment.

  The support band is finishing up as we get to our seats. I follow Tom along our row, picking my way through the minefield of feet. Tom flips down his seat and sits, and I climb onto his lap. Dawn got us seats at the end of the row, butted up against a wall as I requested. Nobody is going to bump into me here. Rose sits beside Tom, her despondent sigh audible above the sound checks.

  ‘All good?’ Tom asks her.

  She smiles and nods. It’s about twenty per cent genuine. God, she’s such a strop.

  The lights go down and we settle in for the wait. You can feel the crackle of anticipation running through the crowd. It’s such a raw human moment I feel excited even though I’m ambivalent about the band. Tom squeezes me, grinning idiotically.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispers into my ear.

  Then he swings to Rose. ‘Thank you,’ he says again, as the first chord is struck. The lights hit us, and Rose is illuminated. She sees the thrill in Tom’s eyes and her replying smile is genuine. Finally.

  And so it begins; a shrill keyboard pierces the stadium air, a bass guitar picks up the beat. Pike stalks in after a good two minutes, glaring at the crowd. He wears a crazy old suit with a ruffled shirt like it’s his wedding day. He doesn’t sing for another two minutes, he just prowls around staring at us all. It’s unnerving.

  Then he starts up. Tom was right, Pike is awesome. The guy is seriously screaming out his lungs. Sweat spins from his spiked hair as he spits the words into the mic. The sound is pounding through my ribcage, threatening to overwhelm my own heartbeat. Tom is head-banging beside me, thrashing about like a madman—his neck must be killing him. This song, ‘Slice My Rancid Peach’, is so damn long I lose track of time. Tom pushes me up to dance. People are dancing in the rows so it’s okay. I shimmy between him and the wall, making up crazy moves and making Tom laugh. Rose joins us and Tom takes her hand, spinning her around and around on the spot. She’s laughing now too.

  Song after song we dance, hailing Pike and SkarNutter as they bring us higher and higher. It’s such a talent being able to do that to people. It must feel amazing to have that impact. The three of us are screaming along to the lyrics, Get your pretty face out of my face, or suck my, suck my bones!

  I laugh and laugh and I feel like my cynical skin is being shed and tonight I’m just a normal girl without a care in the world. Tom pulls me in and kisses me, one of those long, steamy ones. It’
s poison hot and I feel like I’m on fire.

  ‘Tom!’ Rose flails her arms around. ‘You look like a freak!’

  ‘So does everyone in this crowd,’ he replies.

  ‘Maybe. But they’re not being filmed.’

  Tom and I turn around and sure enough a few guys have their phones trained on him. Tom swears and sits down, blushing like crazy. ‘Crap,’ he mutters as I snuggle into his lap. ‘You could only see the back of my head, right?’

  The song ends and gentle piano chords start up. Tom is singing, out of tune, into my ear.

  You might be hotter than Barbie, baby,

  but it’ll never be forever, darlin’ honey bee girl.

  Involuntarily my gut twists and I feel the darkness. It’s just a song, I tell myself. It’s just a song. The drums kick in and the thrashing guitar starts up again. I open my eyes to see Pike leaping across the stage. His legs look so skinny they could snap.

  ‘You okay?’ Tom calls over the reverb. ‘What is it?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘What is it?’ he asks again.

  I don’t want to speak. I know I’m being crazy. But I can’t move past it. The darkness is crushing me. I need him to help me get through my insecurities. But what can I do? Admit that I can’t understand why he likes me? It’s implausible. He is so kind and adorable and me—I’m nothing.

  ‘Olive?’ he tries again.

  My voice is raspy. ‘The words—they’re true.’

  ‘The words? What words?’

  I nod toward the stage. ‘His.’

  Tom looks confused, probably racking his brain for all the damn lyrics Pike has been spurting out all evening. I feel sorry for him but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to make the darkness in my head go away. I’m angry with myself. This night was supposed to be fun. I’m supposed to be convincing him I’m worth all the problems that come with me—but here I am causing more. Stupid, Olive. Stupid, stupid, Olive.

  Tom is getting frustrated. ‘Jesus Olive—it could be anything, you’ll have to be a bit clearer.’

  I can’t do anything but shake my head.

  It’s impossible to enjoy the concert now. Tom is sitting all stiff and agitated, his hands clawing the arm rests and I’m trying to figure out a way to flee, but I’m trapped in this aisle of dancing fools.