Part 2: A Place of Her Own
Continuation of The Pick, a short story
In the event that you missed it: Click here to read Part 1.
What had begun as a wonderful day full of hope and high expectations ended as the worst day of Olive’s life.
Olive had spent the morning packing up her dorm room in Corvallis and loading her worldly belongings into the back of her new-to-her Subaru Outback, a graduation gift from her parents. With her freshly minted degree in Equine Sciences, she drove to Portland to begin her adult life. She felt proud of herself for having secured a room in a house on Portland’s hip east side—a house with three roommates, one of whom she had met at the barn where she had found a job as a riding instructor. The excitement of her graduation from Oregon State vanished behind her as she headed into the future.
She arrived at the house in the early afternoon and managed to snag a parking spot directly in front of it. What a wonderful neighborhood she had landed in—just steps away from the Hawthorne District, a street lined with vintage clothing stores, cheap food, and colorful people.
She climbed the steep concrete steps onto the large wooden porch. As she reached the landing, she was surprised to see Katie stretched out on a porch swing with a book.
“Oh, hello!” Olive said.
Katie had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing what appeared to be a Starbucks uniform—all-black tee and jeans.
“You’re here!” She closed her book and stood to greet Olive. “I was hoping you would arrive early so I could show you around. I have to go to work soon and didn’t want you to arrive to an empty house.”
“That’s so nice!”
Olive was relieved to see a friendly and familiar face, even if they had only met briefly when she’d been at the barn for her interview. She had taken an instant liking to Katie.
Olive hadn’t really thought much about what it would be like to arrive at her new home, or how she might feel if nobody were there—but now that Katie mentioned it, she realized it would have felt weird.
Katie helped her unload her things and carry them up to the second floor, where a spacious room with hardwood floors awaited. Light streamed into two large windows, one south-facing and the other west. The room was unfurnished, something Olive had not considered when she agreed to take it.
Good thing my parents are in town—we’ll have to make a trip to IKEA, she thought.
Still, it was a bit disappointing. Looked like she would be sleeping on the floor tonight.
After leaving her belongings in the room, Katie showed her the rest of the house. She would be sharing a bathroom with Katie and one of the other roommates. It was small and tidy, everything white, with one of those claw-footed tubs that had been converted into a shower.
“That’s the hook for your towel,” Katie said, indicating the empty one. “And that’s your shelf for shampoo and whatever.”
“Perfect,” She followed Katie downstairs.
“And here’s the kitchen.” The kitchen looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the 1950s. Katie threw open the refrigerator. “The third shelf is yours. I recommend you label your food, ’cause things have a way of disappearing, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure, makes perfect sense.”
She’d been eating at the cafeteria for the past four years and hadn’t even considered the fact that she would need to feed herself now.
As the tour concluded, Katie reached over and touched Olive’s arm, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Katie glanced at her watch. “But now I really have to fly, or I’ll be late. I’m really sorry I can’t help you get settled in.”
“Don’t sweat it, really. I have to head out soon to go to my aunt’s house. My parents are there, and we’re having dinner.”
“Great! See you later tonight maybe? If you aren’t already crashed.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Katie left.
Olive soon discovered she could barely stand being in this strange place alone. She showered, hung her towel on the designated hook, and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt. Then she stepped out onto the porch, locked the front door, and called her mom to let her know she was on the way.
She’d been to her aunt’s house many times while in school, but had never driven herself. She didn’t remember the roads being so windy—or the fact that it was two tunnels away from downtown.
Pulling up in front of her aunt’s gated compound, she stopped at the entry keypad and punched in the code her aunt had emailed: 0927. The gates—spectacular, with a dragonfly motif—started into motion. Not only did they open, but the dragonfly wings fluttered. Magical.
Although Eugenia could be overbearing sometimes, Olive loved many things about her—she was smart, funny, beautiful and had a crystalline aesthetic. She surrounded herself with niceness and knew how to create something out of nothing.
Olive parked between her parents’ Mercedes SUV and Aunt Eugenia’s Prius. Eugenia had done well for herself flipping houses but had always stayed true to her values. As Eugenia would say: She lived small so she could live large. Her house was tiny, but her garden was something to behold—a riot of native plants and medicinal herbs, sprawling and wild.
Sometimes it was difficult for Olive to imagine how Eugenia could be her mother’s sister. Her mother, Helen, gravitated toward ostentation. Her house was much larger than it needed to be, with eight bathrooms and as many bedrooms. From the size of it, you’d think she was a Mormon woman with ten children—not an atheist with one.
Helen’s taste in furniture leaned French Renaissance; Eugenia’s leaned Shaker. But despite their differences, the sisters were close.
When Olive walked into the house, Eugenia and Helen were putting the finishing touches on dinner. They had made a large salade Niçoise with fresh green beans and new potatoes from the garden. Nick, Olive’s father, stepped in through the back door carrying a plate full of freshly grilled tuna to complete the platter.
Dinner was served outside on the patio. Although it had been a warm day, a light breeze had kicked up. It was comfortable, and Olive felt happy to be sitting with her people.
“How’s the new place, hon?” Nick asked.
“Good, I guess,” Olive said.
“You don’t sound sure. What’s up with that?” Helen asked.
“Nothin’. It just doesn’t feel like home yet. No furniture—
You guys want to take me to IKEA tomorrow morning? That would be an awesome help.”
Olive watched her parents exchange glances.
“I don’t think that’s going to be possible,” Helen said. “I told you your father has to be back at the office by tomorrow morning, so we’ll be leaving tonight.”
Nick added, “Olive, you know we love you to the end of the earth, but this is just another example of how you take everything for granted. A little more planning on your part might—”
Olive bristled. She recognized her father’s tone; he was about to launch into a lecture about thinking ahead and being practical. He’d been against her studying Equine Sciences. Why not pursue a “real” profession, he had suggested—law, medicine, anything more lucrative?
She always ended up feeling like a failure in her parents’ eyes.
“Never mind,” Olive said. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“I really don’t appreciate your tone,” Nick said.
Helen looked uncomfortable. She hated confrontation. Eugenia got up and began clearing dishes to avoid the tension.
“Your father has a point,” Helen said.
Olive hated that her mother always sided with her father. Her face flushed.
“That’s great. Just great. Well, like I said, forget I asked.”
“Oh sweetheart—” Helen reached toward Olive who was already set to leave the table.
“I promised Katie—my new roommate—I’d meet her at eight-thirty downtown,” she lied. “Since you guys have to head home soon anyway…”
“Olive, don’t be like that,” Helen said. “You know we—”
Olive stomped into the house before hearing the rest. Eugenia was at the sink, washing dishes.
“Thanks for dinner, Aunt Gen,” Olive said in the calmest voice she could muster.
“I have to go meet my new roommate downtown.”
Another lie. She gave Eugenia a hug.
“Of course you do,” Eugenia said. She understood. “Call me if you need anything. I know the way to IKEA too.”
Olive returned to her new house. Her empty room. None of the roommates were home. She felt embarrassed that she had behaved so childishly. It was her fault, not theirs.
She had spent most of her graduation money on first and last month’s rent. There wasn’t much left for anything besides food, and she wouldn’t get a paycheck for two more weeks. Her father was right. She was a poor planner. She was not practical.
She laid out her bedding on the hard floor and leaned against the wall with her pillow, pulled out her laptop, connected to Wi-Fi using the password Katie texted her earlier, and started watching a movie on Netflix.
Around ten o’clock, her phone rang. It was Eugenia.
“Olive?” From Eugenia’s voice, Olive almost anticipated her next words.
“Something terrible has happened.”
And that is how the first day of Olive’s adult life began—with the death of her parents.
A wonderful read—I so remember that feeling of wanting to be grown up but realizing how much fun it isn’t!
Thank you, Gillian! Funny how legally we are counted as adults at 18 or 21, but in reality I think it usually happens in the late 20s!