Read Online Maybe One Day by Melissa Kantor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melissa Kantor
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me a thin smile. “They started this new antinausea medication, so I’m supposedly feeling better already.”
“Well, that’s supposedly good news,” I said. “Hi, Mrs. Greco.”
“Hello, Zoe.” Mrs. Greco looked way more tired than she had the day before, and I wondered if she’d had as bad a night’s sleep as I had. “Would you Purell your hands, please?” She smiled at me, but it was a smile I’d never seen on Olivia’s mom’s face before. There was something brittle under it, like any second it could crack and something sad and scared and ugly would poke through.
I went over to the Purell dispenser, hearing Livvie and her mom talking in whispers behind me. When I turned around, Mrs. Greco was still smiling that creepy smile. “Okay, girls,” she said. “I’ll give you some time. But half an hour. That’s it.” She fussed briefly with Olivia’s bed, and I noticed that someone had brought Olivia’s comforter from home. “Well, that’s better,” said Mrs. Greco, having fixed whatever was bothering her. “Okay. I’ll see you both in a bit.”
As soon as her mom left, Olivia sighed and dropped her head back against the pillow. “She is driving me crazy.”
“She’s freaked out,” I said, making my way over to stand by the bed.
“I wish she’d stop smiling for a minute,” said Olivia. “It’s freaking me out.”
“Yeah, that smile is fucking bizarre ,” I agreed.
Livvie leaned toward me and took my hands in hers, then split her face into a terrifying grimace. “How are you feeling, honey? Are you tired? Would you like to eat something? Is it too cold in here? Is it too warm in here? Do you want towalk down the hall? Do you want your book? Can I get you anything? Anything at all?” With each question, she made her smile wider and more frightening. Then she flopped back and let go of my hand. “That’s why I finally let her braid my hair. I figured at least I wouldn’t have to look at her smiling while she did it.”
“It does look nice,” I said.
“I look like a third grader,” Olivia corrected me.
“A very pretty third grader,” I assured her.
She rolled her eyes at me.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I had to call Mrs. Jones at the rec center and tell her I was sick. They’re going to find someone else to teach the ballet class.”
“Oh.” I sat down in the chair her mom had vacated. “Well, I mean, that’s good, right? That they won’t have to cancel it or anything.”
“Yeah, I guess.” But her voice was sad.
I leaned toward her. “Livs?”
She toyed with the edge of her shirt, not meeting my eyes. “I like teaching the class, okay? And I’m just . . . I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Forget about it, okay? I mean”—she waved her hand around the room—“it’s not like I can teach the class from here. So let’s . . . let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your day.”
“Livvie . . . ,” I started, and I reached for her hand.
But she shook her head and shut her eyes tightly, not facing me. “Tell me about your day,” she repeated. “Please.”
“Sure,” I said, not sure what else I could do. “Of course.”
Thirty-one minutes later, Mrs. Greco followed me out the door of Olivia’s room and down the hall. “Thanks for coming today, Zoe,” she said. “It means a lot to Olivia.”
I hoped it had, but I wasn’t so sure. Nothing, not even my Calvin-Taylor-really-is-a-vampire story, had seemed to cheer her up.
“I’ve spoken to Mr. Handleman,” she went on, “and it looks like—when she’s well enough—Olivia is going to be able to Skype her classes. But if there’s work that can’t be delivered via computer, I told him you or Jake could be the point person. I hope you don’t mind.” We were standing in front of the elevator, and Mrs. Greco pushed the down button.
“Of course not. I’m glad to help.” My parents always said Olivia was a part of our family,
“Well, that’s supposedly good news,” I said. “Hi, Mrs. Greco.”
“Hello, Zoe.” Mrs. Greco looked way more tired than she had the day before, and I wondered if she’d had as bad a night’s sleep as I had. “Would you Purell your hands, please?” She smiled at me, but it was a smile I’d never seen on Olivia’s mom’s face before. There was something brittle under it, like any second it could crack and something sad and scared and ugly would poke through.
I went over to the Purell dispenser, hearing Livvie and her mom talking in whispers behind me. When I turned around, Mrs. Greco was still smiling that creepy smile. “Okay, girls,” she said. “I’ll give you some time. But half an hour. That’s it.” She fussed briefly with Olivia’s bed, and I noticed that someone had brought Olivia’s comforter from home. “Well, that’s better,” said Mrs. Greco, having fixed whatever was bothering her. “Okay. I’ll see you both in a bit.”
As soon as her mom left, Olivia sighed and dropped her head back against the pillow. “She is driving me crazy.”
“She’s freaked out,” I said, making my way over to stand by the bed.
“I wish she’d stop smiling for a minute,” said Olivia. “It’s freaking me out.”
“Yeah, that smile is fucking bizarre ,” I agreed.
Livvie leaned toward me and took my hands in hers, then split her face into a terrifying grimace. “How are you feeling, honey? Are you tired? Would you like to eat something? Is it too cold in here? Is it too warm in here? Do you want towalk down the hall? Do you want your book? Can I get you anything? Anything at all?” With each question, she made her smile wider and more frightening. Then she flopped back and let go of my hand. “That’s why I finally let her braid my hair. I figured at least I wouldn’t have to look at her smiling while she did it.”
“It does look nice,” I said.
“I look like a third grader,” Olivia corrected me.
“A very pretty third grader,” I assured her.
She rolled her eyes at me.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I had to call Mrs. Jones at the rec center and tell her I was sick. They’re going to find someone else to teach the ballet class.”
“Oh.” I sat down in the chair her mom had vacated. “Well, I mean, that’s good, right? That they won’t have to cancel it or anything.”
“Yeah, I guess.” But her voice was sad.
I leaned toward her. “Livs?”
She toyed with the edge of her shirt, not meeting my eyes. “I like teaching the class, okay? And I’m just . . . I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Forget about it, okay? I mean”—she waved her hand around the room—“it’s not like I can teach the class from here. So let’s . . . let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your day.”
“Livvie . . . ,” I started, and I reached for her hand.
But she shook her head and shut her eyes tightly, not facing me. “Tell me about your day,” she repeated. “Please.”
“Sure,” I said, not sure what else I could do. “Of course.”
Thirty-one minutes later, Mrs. Greco followed me out the door of Olivia’s room and down the hall. “Thanks for coming today, Zoe,” she said. “It means a lot to Olivia.”
I hoped it had, but I wasn’t so sure. Nothing, not even my Calvin-Taylor-really-is-a-vampire story, had seemed to cheer her up.
“I’ve spoken to Mr. Handleman,” she went on, “and it looks like—when she’s well enough—Olivia is going to be able to Skype her classes. But if there’s work that can’t be delivered via computer, I told him you or Jake could be the point person. I hope you don’t mind.” We were standing in front of the elevator, and Mrs. Greco pushed the down button.
“Of course not. I’m glad to help.” My parents always said Olivia was a part of our family,
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