8. WHISPERS FROM HER DEAD MOTHER.
I don’t think there was ever a time that Olivia didn’t have a job—or at least something doing. She got her first job the summer after her ordeal with Damien. The summer she stayed back in Texas, working as a hideous mascot for a new town restaurant.
Money wasn’t usually the problem, not that her parents were the richest but she always talked about how they were “comfortable” which was often just a fancy white word for the rich. But it wouldn’t hurt to have some cash by herself. Especially when she had that much needs, whether it were the latest butterfly clips or limited editions of her favorite romance novels.
She never disturbed Sarah for needs as those. It was maybe why she leaned independence from a very young age. And the upside of money, even if it had no correlation to your passion or what you actually wanted to do. To Olivia, that might have been a surgeon or an architect or whatever it was at various points in her life. But she wasn’t quite attached to anything than she was to drawing—not just drawing, designing.
Floral dresses with veils. Open arms, and vintage graphic tees. Ripped pants at the hips. Provocative, controversial designs, Liv loved those and she started out in her dolls before papers. And from a hobby, it became a dream. So for the rest of her teenage years, she spent telling everyone how much she wanted to be a fashion designer. It wasn’t until college however that she realized dreams like that were called dreams for a reason.
Dreams like that weren’t for people like her, she didn’t have Sarah nor Gerald. She didn’t have rich parents that would fly her to the best design school in New York City—she wasn’t comfortable anymore. Now, she was filled with anxiety every second of every day. Anxious of the future and whatever it held.
She studied pharmacy in college and designing was something she only did at the side. And when she got out, she realized how much she hated her degree after all the work she’d put into it. So she started applying for other jobs—until she met Hank at an ATM queue and he called her in for an interview. Ever since, she was secretary and once again, she was comfortable.
Less anxious.
It wasn’t where she’d planned to be, but it was something at least. Before the dreadful Damien showed up, taking every good thing from her like he always did.
And for the first time, Olivia was up before her alarm. She sat on her bed, looking at it from a distance. It blared in the air and all she did was sulk in her white duvet, holding it up to her chin. She didn’t have anywhere to go, anything to do. Her hands found her phone and pulled it in front of her to see a text.
But it wasn’t one from Damien’s number as she’d hoped, rather from Alli, asking if she was actually being for real about being fired. The feeling was weird, surreal and it hit her, sitting there—mourning the loss of a job.
Alli: It’s going to be so weird today without you.
She turned her phone off, filling her lungs with air. She decided she wasn’t about to mop all day. Looking to her laptop, she decided to revamp her resume before applying for new jobs. But that was after breakfast—the privilege it was, having breakfast from her bed. She’d imagined Hamilton searching the bus-stop for her as she climbed slowly out of bed but she soon shrugged it off. She was in shorts and a bralette that hung loosely above her boobs and she opened the drapes, letting light fill her room.
It was a beautiful day, one without Damien.
And that and only that, she was going to enjoy. But suddenly her eyes fell to the boxes by the right—the boxes she still hadn’t unpacked since she moved. And in the top one, she read aloud.
“My designs”
Her hands brushed the dust on the surface as she carried it in her hands, filled with nostalgia. She was wrong, she did have things. Alot of things—and for the first time, it was for herself.
-
Each morning was a routine for Alli.
And when he was usually done by about seven, he’d head right out of the door with his backpack Liv still teased him about. His eyes darted around his parlor and the efforts his mum put in breakfast that morning but he was quick to shrug.
She usually got bored, and she’d resort to cleaning, so it was no surprise. “Bye, mum” He held, holding open the door. “Bye dad” She hefted her chin to the door closing to her. And her arms fell with the sponge she held. “Bye Alli” She whispered.
He paced across the pavements, putting his headphones over his ears. He made his way to the stop and hang by the benches. Luckily he’d blocked his eyes to honking of the cars speeding on the roads and he listened to an Olivia Rodrigo song.
However it didn’t take long till someone interrupted him. He felt a tap across his shoulders and he turned to face a complete stranger. “There” He pointed to the black mustang that was parked in front of him and Alli pulled out his headphones. The tinted windows slowly wound down as the horning came to a halt.
And immediately he recognized the person in the car.
It was the coffee guy—the one he’d spilled a cappuccino on whose name he had no idea of. And he was headed right to his car. “Come on in” He stretched to help with the door as Alli held unto his backpack. “You’re going to work?” He asked.
Alli subtly nodded, hanging by the open doors. “I’ll drive you” Omar had a smirk across his lips, and Alli a flashed smile. “As long as you promise not to spill any coffee on me this time”
Alli chuckled, climbing into his car before they took off. And Omar’s eyes darted to the headset in his hands. “What are you listening to?” He asked and Alli looked to him. “Me?”
“Well obviously i’m not talking to myself huh” Omar replied with a mideastern accent and all Alli did was chuckle, half the time. “I’m not a stranger, i promise i won’t bite” Omar teased and he pushed a lump down his throat. “I’m not a little kid” He replied.
“So you talk?”
“Apparently i do more being clumsy” Alli gritted through his teeth. “And sarcasm, i like it” Omar laughed. “Why are you being nice to me?” They suddenly looked to each other after he’d turned at a junction and Omar still had his signature smirk. “If someone messed my shirt up on my first day of work, i’d be so mad i might actually kill that person” Alli continued.
“How do you know it was my first day at Archer’s?” His voice went deep and Alli flustered. “I just haven’t seen around” He replied. “Or maybe you were stalking” Omar said, and again, he chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself—“ He dryly said.
“You have that much time down at the IT?”
“How do you know i work at the IT?“ Alli was quick to point a finger as Omar scoffed. “So you’re the one stalking?” He asked and he pushed a lump down his throat. “Yes” He whispered, and their eyes met for a second before Alli glanced away. Silence fell between them as his hands drew against the misty windows.
“Or maybe i just wanted to know more about who i wanted to kill?” Omar said after a while and Alli looked to him. “Ha ha” He sarcastically remarked and Omar rolled his eyes. He was dressed so differently than the other was. He had a loose button on his chest and a suit jacket on to match his chino pants. The button showed a silver chain around his neck, the same tint as his rolex.
He was rich.
Details like that, and his vintage 90s mustang gave it away. Alli noticed the red leather seats and the Quran on his dashboard as well but he didn’t want to seem intrusive with his questions.
“You haven’t answered me”
He zoned out of space, looking back to Omar. “What?”
“What are you listening to?” He asked, and Alli shook the set in his hands. “Oh you don’t know her” He assumed, looking at Omar to be someone nearing his thirties. “Olivia Rodrigo”
“Oh i know her” He stuttered, an obvious lie and Alli rolled his eyes as he looked out of the windows. “Yeah you’re right i don’t” He later admitted. “But i wanted to play it on my stereo for you” His eyes set out of the Archer building before them and Alli took his bag in his hands just as Omar pulled up in the parking lot.
“Maybe another time” He halted.
And Alli looked into his dark eyes, freezing for a moment and Omar didn’t back away. “Maybe” He replied as he pushed open the door. But then he turned around. “I didn’t get your name?” He said in a questioning tone.
“Well you would have if you weren’t hell bent on ruining my whites that day” Omar said and Alli chuckled, sticking his hands up his hair. “Are you ever going to let it go?” He asked and the other chuckled. “Never” He replied.
And just as he was about to pull away, he heard a yell. “Omar”
“That’s my name” He scoffed, nodding back at him. “I’m Alli” He replied. “Well nice to meet you Alli” Omar whispered, a smile crippling his lips rather than a smirk and Alli walked with his back.
“See you around”
“See you around” Omar echoed as they gazed at each other for as long as they could. And to Alli, this was the first time they’d met and not embarrassingly in the coffee room. He showed his ID before walking into the reception. Now, he instinctively looked around for his best friend Olivia before he remembered.
She was gone.
And he had no one to frantically explain what he’d been through that morning—to gush over Omar. He pulled out his phone to see his last message and there was no reply so he just slipped it back. Heaving a deep breath, he made his way up the stairs and he knew it was going to be a long day without Olivia here.
-
She set up a canvas before her as Liv held the pencil in her hands. There was half a pancake by the right side of the table as her eyes blurred it.
All her attention was on the paper before her, she pressed the pencil into the wood and drew her curves—perfecting one of the unfinished pieces she’d had from months back. The box was opened next to her feet, filled with all het papers and materials. And when Olivia was done, she smiled proudly at the paper before her. It was perfect—
—and even more relaxing to know she hadn’t lost her touch. She still had it in her. Now, she might have still been anxious about her future without Archer’s. But on the upside, she had this. This was something that brought her closer to her inner child. Something that fed little Olivia before the world changed her. And unsurprisingly, she had tears in her eyes. But mostly because she remembered the one person that bought her her first book, and that was her mother.
“Chase your dreams, Liv” Sarah would say. And it was though she was closer to her than she’d ever been since she passed—Perhaps it was why she loved designing so much.
Liv could hear her whispers in that moment. “Chase your dreams”
Whispers from her dead mother.
To be continued…