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“I’ve been traveling America for a few months, but I stopped here. I really liked it and I have been living in Santa Monica for a few months.” She is here and I still can't believe it.
They say whatever you think, you manifest. Well, the law of attraction was not wrong; I’ve been thinking about her and now she is here.
Violet was spot-on when she said we met for a reason. This is the reason for my path to collide with Violet.
The reason I met Rio on the beach that day, the reason I took the gym position, the reason Anthony bought the gym, for Violet to be his daughter, for her managing the acquisition, for us meeting, for dating each other, for Anthony to be dating a new girlfriend, and for that girlfriend to be Olivia who turns out to be my mother.
It was destined. All of it.
She remains silent.
“I can’t believe I’ve been living in the same city as you.” I’m stunned, and hysterical laughter bubbles in my throat. I can’t work out if I should laugh or cry.
Violet was right about fate working out.
This is the cosmos throwing fate right into my path in droves.
I explain why I am here tonight. “I’m dating Violet, Anthony’s daughter. Violet wanted our parents to meet tonight before we returned home.”
“You look so much like your father.” Olivia’s face is emotionless and there is no warmth in her eyes for me. Her voice isn’t how I imagined, either. It’s some weird intercontinental mix of accents. She sounds anything but Scottish.
“Handsome then?” I try to summon a thread of emotion from her, but she doesn’t give me anything in exchange.
“Look. I just want to talk. I know this wasn’t planned, but could we sit down, maybe?” My heart fills with hope and dread all at the same time. I’m certain I know what she’ll say, but my yaya always told me we have to remain hopeful if we want good things to happen to us and for us.
I try taking a step closer, but she steps back, causing my gut to tighten. My hope is clinging on for dear life. It’s holding on by its fingertips on the edge of my emotional cliff side, but as she shies away from me, I feel it slipping away into the abyss as I desperately try to hold on to it.
She doesn’t want to know me.
“I have to go,” she blurts.
Her words confirm my worst fear. “Do you not want to talk?”
“I don’t,” she stammers.
I shrink back from her.
She would have hurt me less if she’d driven a knife through my heart.
“I’m only here for another day. Can we please meet up? Just to talk.”
“I hope you have a safe trip.”
Is that it? Have a safe trip? The blood pounds in my temples from sheer humiliation. She doesn’t want to know me.
My dad finally loses it. “You haven’t changed one bit, Olivia. Our son is standing in front of you, asking to speak to you, and you say you have to go. Christ, he even said please.” Unable to control his anger, his voice rises. “He’s not asking for the moon on a stick; he’s asking to speak to you. Just talk. And you can’t even do that for him.”
That's all I wanted.
The hope I was clinging to slips off the side of the cliff and hits the rocks below.
My dad keeps going with his verbal attack. “Can you see him in front of you now? Our boy. He’s now a man. A good man, with a beautiful heart, not that you have one yourself to know what that’s like. But our boy has one. He’s smart, funny, caring, but he has demons because of you.” He points his finger at Olivia vehemently. “He jokes and makes light of everything in life because all he wants is to be accepted, to be liked because he fears people will reject him. You did that to him. You made him feel like that, Olivia. And he never says how he really feels because he never wants to worry me. But I know. I know him. He’s my son.” He stabs his finger deep into his chest. “Not yours. You don’t fucking deserve him.” My dad paces. “I have defended you for years. Never once have I name-called or bitched about you, but you’ve fucking done it now. I won’t hold back anymore. You’re a pathetic excuse for a mother.”
Olivia is sobbing now and my heart breaks for us all, and I want so badly to reach out and touch her, to confirm she’s real, but I can’t move.
She doesn’t want me.
“And did I hear Anthony correctly? You have two other boys?” My dad’s voice is inflamed.
