That would’ve been an extra level of hell for Olive.
This was already unbearable.
I wanted to tell him what the last week had entailed.
How my lease ended in a month and I didn’t know what I should do.
How Olive had begged me to sleep in her room at Justin’s four out of the past eight nights, because she couldn’t cope knowing he was gone.
How Justin had offered again for me to move in, and I didn’t know what my answer should be.
My tongue tied.
Desperate to tell him everything. To ask him what he wanted. To hear him say he could never let me go, and that I should stay.
And wait.
But Olive barrelled past me, stealing Gil’s attention.
“Olive Oyl.” His entire body softened as he fell to one knee. His arms opened wide, looking like a proud father, starving man, and pained protector all at once.
“You can’t hug—”
Too late.
Olive launched into his embrace, and Gil trapped her close. He buried his face against her sweet, strawberry smelling hair, and Olive clung to him like a baby spider monkey.
They didn’t obey the rules as fresh tears rolled down Olive’s cheek as she leaned back to kiss Gil’s five o’clock shadow.
He kissed her back before pushing her painfully away and standing. A guard caught our gaze in warning, shaking his head at our affection.
Gil cleared his throat and pinned his attention back on Olive. “Wow, little spinach. You better stop growing because I swear you’re already bigger than last week.”
Olive smiled but didn’t laugh. Her bubbliness had faded somewhat. But her joy at being with Gil was evident. “I’ll stop growing. I promise I won’t grow another inch until you’re home.”
“Nah, you can’t do that. Ignore me. You have to grow into a gorgeous creature who will kill me on a daily basis with how awesome she is.”
She blushed.
Now our reunion was over, the rest of the world came back into focus. Other families chatted with loved ones, the visiting room buzzing with relief and regret at seeing each other but still torn apart.
We stood in the corner; our own private oasis.
Olive’s gaze skipped over other parents with their kids, grateful prisoners, stern guards, and doting wives and girlfriends.
The scene was sweet with so much affection but raw with so much loss.
I hoped she wouldn’t have a nightmare tonight.
She’d suffered pretty bad since Gil had gone. She’d wake up screaming and only my touch could snap her out of it. If Justin tried to soothe her, he just made it worse.
On the nights that I hadn’t stayed, he’d called in the early hours of the morning, begging me to talk to her. To help her know she was safe, that Jeffrey was dead, and Justin wasn’t her uncle.
Child Protective Services had also called, checking in on Olive’s living arrangements and providing the name of a therapist with skills in helping children overcome traumatic events. At least they were happy that Olive’s best interests were upheld and allowed us to keep temporary custody.
We were all tired.
And confused on how best to make our new realities work.
Cupping Olive’s cheek, Gil earned a scowl from a nearby guard. He reluctantly let her go and motioned to the metal chairs bolted to the floor. “Sit. Hang out with me.”
Olive took one while Gil and I took the others.
Reaching across the table, Olive grabbed his hand and didn’t let go. Even when another guard moved toward us and Gil dropped their grip beneath the table out of sight.
I waited to see if he’d be reprimanded, but the guard just narrowed his eyes and returned to his post, allowing a small kindness between father and daughter.
“Are you okay? No one is being mean?” Olive sniffed back tears.
Gil smiled and shook his head. “No, everyone has been very welcoming.”
His eyes slid to mine, hiding the truth.
I doubted everyone had been welcoming. Shadows marked his jaw, and he’d sat stiffly—all signs I recognised of him being bruised from a fist.
I shivered, hating that he was locked in there and unable to escape brutality. Hating that I couldn’t have a frank conversation with him because of innocent ears.
Was he truly okay? Was it true that men shed their human skins and became monsters in jail? That beatings and rapings were just a part of prison life, or was that merely conspiracies and gossip, designed to scare you into staying straight?
“Are you painting?” Olive asked, swiping her nose with the back of her hand and blinking away more tears, as if she knew her grief was hard on her father.
“No. I don’t have much inspiration. My muses are all back at home.” His eyes flashed to mine again, holding my stare with a need so rich and deep, if it was a colour, it would’ve been a decadent red.
“Will you teach other prisoners how to paint?” Olive looked around at the bland beige walls. “Maybe you can graffiti in here like our rainforest wall. It’s ugly.”
Gil chuckled. “That would be an improvement to the place. I agree.”
I leaned back, allowing the small family to have their conversations and privacy. I’d come as chaperone to Olive as Justin was working, and I’d been given the afternoon off. Shannon wasn’t as friendly these days, and the mystery of me being used as a pawn in the painted murders had worn off. No one in the office liked me because I didn’t make an effort to mingle.
I didn’t go there to find company. I went there to earn money, and frankly, I didn’t know how much longer I could stay.
It was yet another hurdle I had to jump.
Quit my job and have no income.
Give up my lease and have no home.
Walk away from everything and have no Gil or Olive.
I couldn’t deny that watching Gil with his daughter made me more alive than I had been in days. I fell deeper into him, seeing such a tender side. My shattered trust stitched itself back together, witnessing a guy who wasn’t the scared, icy boy anymore but a man who wore his mistakes with pride.
It punched me in the heart with hypocrisy.
I loved Gil.
I probably always would.
And now...when there were no more secrets keeping us apart, I was the one who hid the truth. Who didn’t know if she was brave enough to admit that this was what she wanted.
Him.
Her.
A ready-made family who I’d fallen head over heels for.
Five years was an eternity.
But it was nothing in the term of a lifetime.
I sat stewing in my thoughts as Olive chattered and drank in her father. Gil smiled dotingly and gave her every scrap of attention.
Fifteen minutes later, a buzzer sounded, announcing the end of visitation.
Olive’s eyes immediately filled with tears again. “No. I don’t want to go. Dad, come home with us.”
Gil cupped her cheek, sadness creating grooves in his forehead and deep brackets around his mouth. “I’d love nothing more than to go home with you, little spinach, but I can’t. Not yet.”
“Can I move in here with you then?” She stood and hugged him while he still sat in the chair. He squeezed her, even as a guard cleared his throat, encroaching with his rules. “This isn’t a nice place for little Olive Oyls.”
“Then where can we go to be together?”
Gil pushed her toward me, a plea in his gaze.