Read Olive, Again: A Novel for Free Online Page B

His toenail needed to be cut. “God, that’s unattractive,” he said. He covered his toe with his other foot briefly, then let it loose. “My point here is— Children. Your son. My daughter. They don’t like us, Olive.”
    Olive considered this. “No,” she finally agreed. “I don’t think Christopher does like me. Why is that?”
    Jack said, looking up at her, his head on one hand, “You were a crummy mother? Who knows, Olive? He could have just been born that way too.”
    Olive sat and looked at her hands, which she held together on her lap.
    Jack said, “Wait a minute. Didn’t he just have a new baby?”
    “It died. She had to wait and push the baby out dead.”
    “Oh, Olive, that’s awful. God, that’s an awful thing.” Now Jack sat up straight.
    “Yup. It is.” Olive whisked some lint off the knee of her black pants.
    “Well, maybe that’s why he didn’t want to hear you talking about how you delivered one.” Jack gave a shrug. “I’m just saying—”
    “No. You’re right. Of course.” The thought had not occurred to her, and she felt her face grow warm. “Anyway, she’s trying to get pregnant again and this one will be born in a pool. A little kiddie swimming pool. That’s what he told me.”
    Jack leaned his head back and laughed. Olive was surprised at the sound of his laughter—it was so genuine.
    “Jack.” She spoke sharply.
    “Yes, Olive?” He said this with dry humor.
    “I have to tell you how stupid that baby shower was. Marlene’s daughter—well, the poor girl sat in a chair and put all her ribbons on a paper plate and then every single damned gift had to be passed around from one woman to the next. Every single gift! And everyone said, Oh, how lovely, and isn’t that nice, and honest to good God, Jack, I thought I would die.”
    He watched her for a moment, then his eyes crinkled with mirth.
    “Olive,” he finally said, “I don’t know where you’ve been. I tried calling you a few times, and I thought perhaps you’d gone to New York to see your grandson. You don’t have an answering machine? I could have sworn you did, I’ve left you messages on it before.”
    “I’ve never seen my grandson,” Olive said. “And of course I have an answering machine.” Then Olive said, “Oh. I turned it off one day, someone kept calling me about a vacation I’d won. Maybe I never turned it back on.” She understood now that this was true; she had never turned the damned machine back on.
    Jack was quiet; he studied his toenail. Then he looked up and said, “Well. Let’s get you a cellphone. I will buy it for you, and I will show you how to use it. Now, why haven’t you seen your grandson?”
    A ripple of something went through Olive, almost a fleeting sense of unreality. This man, Jack Kennison, was going to buy her a cellphone! She said, “Because I haven’t been invited. I told you how badly things went when I went to New York before.”
    “Yes, you did. Have you invited them to come see you?”
    “No.” Olive looked at the lampshade with its ruffle around the bottom.
    “Why don’t you do that?”
    “Because they have those three kids, I told you—she had two different kids with two different men—and they have Little Henry now, and I’m sure they couldn’t make the trip.”
    Jack opened a hand. “Maybe not. But I think it would be nice for you to invite them.”
    “They don’t need to be invited, they can just come.” Olive put both hands on the armchair’s armrests, then put them back in her lap.
    Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Olive, sometimes people like to be invited. I, for example, would have loved to be invited to your house on many occasions, but you’ve not invited me except for that one time when I asked you to take me over. And so I have felt rebuffed. Do you see that?”
    Olive exhaled loudly. “You could have called.”
    “Olive, I just told you I did call. I called you a couple of times, and because you turned off