Vanilla 26, chocolate 7, strawberry 18: learn to fly
Title: learn to fly
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors and Toppings: Vanilla 26 (anniversary/memorial), chocolate 7 (regret), strawberry 18 (teacup).
Word Count: 845
Rating: PG
Summary: The story, or, what happened to Olivia.
Notes: Immediately follows broken wings, so I'd read that one first. Concrit always welcome if you have it!
Olivia curled her hands around her teacup to keep them from shaking. She couldn't look up at Jake's expectant face: she had to pretend he wasn't here to say anything at all. "I've never told anyone this," she said, staring into the amber liquid.
Jake, bless him, said nothing, only shifted in his seat. He understood her, at least.
Where to start? Where could she start? Her whole life was tangled up in this story, in a confusion of fear and guilt and anger, overlaid with regret and pain. How did you start telling your whole story? Where did you begin?
"I don't remember a time when I thought my parents loved each other," she began, slowly. "I also don't think... I don't think I ever thought my mother loved me, either."
Jake inhaled sharply. She glanced up, and couldn't help a tiny smile; he had that look on his face that meant he wanted badly to say something and was keeping quiet only by an enormous effort of will. "It wasn't that bad," she said. "She didn't hate me. You don't need to look appalled."
"I don't look appalled," he said, losing the battle.
Olivia smiled a little wider. "You do so. Anyway, my father..." She faltered, not sure what to say. "He was my father. I loved... I love him," she corrected herself fiercely, "and he loves... loved... me." This time, the correction was quieter, and Jake reached across to take her hand. She squeezed his, grateful for the contact, and went on.
"We were very close," she went on, softly. "He used to take me to the park every Sunday after church, and push me on the swings until it got dark. We'd go get ice cream sometimes on summer afternoons and have picnics and watch the clouds..." But no use dwelling on what was lost, what would never be again. She shook herself and moved on.
"When I was thirteen, the summer before my freshman year of high school, my mother came to me one day and told me that I had better come with her, because my father never wanted to see me again." Olivia shivered at just the memory, tears coming unwanted to her eyes.
"Oh my God," Jake said, and exhaled, as if he'd been holding his breath.
"I asked what I'd done," she said. She was talking faster now, as if she could forget it again just as soon as she'd gotten it all out. "I thought it was because we'd fought, because he wouldn't let me go to a party that weekend and we were both angry, but my mother said it was because I wasn't his daughter. She said she'd just told him, and now he never... I said I'd go with her. I didn't know what else to do. If my father didn't want me, then nobody did."
He squeezed her hand, very tightly. "Olivia..."
She held up her free hand. "Wait, I'm almost done. We moved to the midwest. She changed my name back to her maiden name, Lowry. Living with my mother was... not comfortable, so I graduated high school a year early and went to college as soon as I could. Stopped talking to her after that-- I don't think she even knows where I am, now. When I graduated, I moved to the city." She shrugged. "That's all."
Jake sat back, but did not let go of her hand; now he held it in both of his, and idly stroked the top of her hand as he thought. "So Marhenke is..."
"My father's name," Olivia said. "I may not... have any claim to it, but I wanted... I thought maybe if he was looking for me, if he was only angry and changed his mind later, it would be easier for him to find me again if I was using his name." She clenched her free hand under the table-- he hadn't found her. He wasn't looking for her. He didn't want her after all, and it was harder and harder to forget that.
"Sounds right," Jake said, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. He proved where with his next statement. "Livvy... do you realize you're a kidnapping victim?"
Olivia jerked backwards, pulling her hand from his. "What?"
"You're a kidnapping victim," Jake repeated, his face solemn. "Your mother took you away from your custodial parent with the intent to keep you. That's parental kidnapping. It's a federal crime."
"They were still married," she began, but Jake was already shaking his head.
"Doesn't matter, or at least it shouldn't. Your mother had no right to keep you from your father."
But there it was, the real heart of the matter. "I said I'd go, Jake," she whispered.
He met and held her eyes. "You were thirteen. You were a child. You're a victim, sweetheart. It was not your fault."
Olivia bent her head and stared down into her tea again. She wanted to believe him, really she did, but... "It's not that simple, Jake," she whispered. "It's not that simple."
final note: Unfortunately Jake doesn't know what he's talking about regarding family law. What Olivia's mother did is not illegal, since she and Olivia's father were still married.
I know. I couldn't believe it either.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors and Toppings: Vanilla 26 (anniversary/memorial), chocolate 7 (regret), strawberry 18 (teacup).
Word Count: 845
Rating: PG
Summary: The story, or, what happened to Olivia.
Notes: Immediately follows broken wings, so I'd read that one first. Concrit always welcome if you have it!
Olivia curled her hands around her teacup to keep them from shaking. She couldn't look up at Jake's expectant face: she had to pretend he wasn't here to say anything at all. "I've never told anyone this," she said, staring into the amber liquid.
Jake, bless him, said nothing, only shifted in his seat. He understood her, at least.
Where to start? Where could she start? Her whole life was tangled up in this story, in a confusion of fear and guilt and anger, overlaid with regret and pain. How did you start telling your whole story? Where did you begin?
"I don't remember a time when I thought my parents loved each other," she began, slowly. "I also don't think... I don't think I ever thought my mother loved me, either."
Jake inhaled sharply. She glanced up, and couldn't help a tiny smile; he had that look on his face that meant he wanted badly to say something and was keeping quiet only by an enormous effort of will. "It wasn't that bad," she said. "She didn't hate me. You don't need to look appalled."
"I don't look appalled," he said, losing the battle.
Olivia smiled a little wider. "You do so. Anyway, my father..." She faltered, not sure what to say. "He was my father. I loved... I love him," she corrected herself fiercely, "and he loves... loved... me." This time, the correction was quieter, and Jake reached across to take her hand. She squeezed his, grateful for the contact, and went on.
"We were very close," she went on, softly. "He used to take me to the park every Sunday after church, and push me on the swings until it got dark. We'd go get ice cream sometimes on summer afternoons and have picnics and watch the clouds..." But no use dwelling on what was lost, what would never be again. She shook herself and moved on.
"When I was thirteen, the summer before my freshman year of high school, my mother came to me one day and told me that I had better come with her, because my father never wanted to see me again." Olivia shivered at just the memory, tears coming unwanted to her eyes.
"Oh my God," Jake said, and exhaled, as if he'd been holding his breath.
"I asked what I'd done," she said. She was talking faster now, as if she could forget it again just as soon as she'd gotten it all out. "I thought it was because we'd fought, because he wouldn't let me go to a party that weekend and we were both angry, but my mother said it was because I wasn't his daughter. She said she'd just told him, and now he never... I said I'd go with her. I didn't know what else to do. If my father didn't want me, then nobody did."
He squeezed her hand, very tightly. "Olivia..."
She held up her free hand. "Wait, I'm almost done. We moved to the midwest. She changed my name back to her maiden name, Lowry. Living with my mother was... not comfortable, so I graduated high school a year early and went to college as soon as I could. Stopped talking to her after that-- I don't think she even knows where I am, now. When I graduated, I moved to the city." She shrugged. "That's all."
Jake sat back, but did not let go of her hand; now he held it in both of his, and idly stroked the top of her hand as he thought. "So Marhenke is..."
"My father's name," Olivia said. "I may not... have any claim to it, but I wanted... I thought maybe if he was looking for me, if he was only angry and changed his mind later, it would be easier for him to find me again if I was using his name." She clenched her free hand under the table-- he hadn't found her. He wasn't looking for her. He didn't want her after all, and it was harder and harder to forget that.
"Sounds right," Jake said, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. He proved where with his next statement. "Livvy... do you realize you're a kidnapping victim?"
Olivia jerked backwards, pulling her hand from his. "What?"
"You're a kidnapping victim," Jake repeated, his face solemn. "Your mother took you away from your custodial parent with the intent to keep you. That's parental kidnapping. It's a federal crime."
"They were still married," she began, but Jake was already shaking his head.
"Doesn't matter, or at least it shouldn't. Your mother had no right to keep you from your father."
But there it was, the real heart of the matter. "I said I'd go, Jake," she whispered.
He met and held her eyes. "You were thirteen. You were a child. You're a victim, sweetheart. It was not your fault."
Olivia bent her head and stared down into her tea again. She wanted to believe him, really she did, but... "It's not that simple, Jake," she whispered. "It's not that simple."
final note: Unfortunately Jake doesn't know what he's talking about regarding family law. What Olivia's mother did is not illegal, since she and Olivia's father were still married.
I know. I couldn't believe it either.