The Periods of Being

Chapter XXXII

Chapter XXXII

Another day blends into another and Andrew's calls strike through the day at 2 o'clock each passing day. She repeats the same excuse every day to Mr. Sadder. I'll call him later. She knows that one day it won't work, but despite her knowing what she is going to tell him, she allows the days to stretch. She didn't want to drag it out or want to risk the idea that Andrew might get tired of the one-sided phone calls and decide to pay a physical visit. She just found herself shaken at the idea of speaking to him after all that Neil told her.

    He didn't get mad, she relives in the library. An unopened book lays open. She picked it right when she walked into the library, but she can't find herself to read with the clock ticking away on the fireplace mantel. He didn't ask to hear the story. He didn't forgive, but he decided to forget. She bites her upper lip at the memory of Neil and his words. He didn't hate her, and somehow that is more than she deserves from him, but he decided that she did deserve it.

    Their friendship is restored. They speak in the drawing rooms before dinner and then talk endlessly at the dinner table about their days and then about the past. They never understand why they speak of the past each time. She doesn't complain, though. She finds a sort of solace speaking about Mark to someone that knew him as well as she did. It is comforting and soothing, but she finds herself sinking out the darkness without warning or understanding of how it is becoming possible during the times with him. At night, though, everything creeps back in and she is back to the beginning.

    Andrew's pestering calls always bring her back, too.

    She wrinkles her forehead and eyes the book on her lap. Then to the clock. The ticking hands are far apart like two slices of a broken heart. It's almost two. Her heart doesn't react, but the muscles in her hands do. They shake and refuse to pick up the book in her lap to try to distract herself. He'll be calling soon, echos throughout the room like a phantom. He'll be calling. What are you going to do this time? What are you going to do today? She should answer. She should get up from the couch and wait for Mr. Sadder to come in and announce that she has a phone call.

    She ponders if Mr. Sadder is becoming suspicious after so many days of Andrew calling and then never answering him. He probably thinks that there is something that he isn't understanding. If he respected her, he wouldn't ponder, or wonder, about the two. If he is loyal to his job, he would keep the questions to himself.

    She can't tell him this, though. She just needs to respect that he is a person and can have thoughts of his own. She hopes that the thoughts don't linger too much on the matter, though.

    Olive's eyes drift over to the clock again against her better judgment to try to not check again.

    Five more minutes.

    Her heart reacts this time and begins to pump adrenaline into her veins. She is a hopeless cause and she will need to answer that forsaken phone call despite not wanting to. Mark is up there watching her and she wonders if he frowns at her answer and her hesitation. He might wonder if there is more to her confession days back. There isn't. But he can't read her mind.

     She isn't scared of Andrew.

     She needs to remind herself of this. He's given her the ability to ruin him, and she will do so. He gave her the power to do so while he has left Freya out of his love. Freya deserves better and by better, Olive means that she deserves the love of Andrew. Not the second-hand love he gives to her while he waits for Olive to answer him, for Olive to give herself over to him again. She will never do that, though. All she wants to do is put out the flames and give him the ruination invitation of the mistaken love. She has to. She needs to strike his heart and stop it from beating in the syllables of her name. She has the knife to do so— he gave her it that night in her room when he gave her the unanswerable question then.