Safe with Me: A Novel

The first couple of days after finding out about Hannah, Olivia tiptoes around her husband, terrified she might say or do something to set him off. Strangely enough, he doesn’t pick at the edges of Olivia’s story about what happened with Hannah. When he’s at home, he seems unusually pensive and distracted—less vigilant about monitoring what Olivia does during her days.

“Is everything okay, honey?” she asks him as they are about to go to sleep on Saturday night. He barely spoke to her all day, and usually, his silence is a precursor to one of his rages. She wants to do whatever she can to placate him.

“Fine,” he says tersely. He waits a moment and then speaks again. “My dad called the office yesterday.”

Olivia tenses next to him in their bed, knowing how much of a hot button James’s father is for him. “I thought your secretary knows not to let him through.”

“The bastard gave her a fake name. Said he was a potential investor.” James laughs, a dry, empty bark. “As if he has anything to invest. He was looking for a handout. Can you believe that?”

Olivia brushes her fingers over his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

James places his own hand on top of hers and grips it tightly. Her breath freezes in her lungs, worried about what might happen next. But then he lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses the inside of her palm. “I felt like I was ten years old again, talking to him. I wanted to be sick.” Suddenly, he gathers her to him, holding her so tightly no air can enter or escape her body. He presses his mouth up against her ear so she can feel the wet heat of his breath. “Tell me I’m not like him,” he says in a ragged voice. “Please.”

Olivia swallows the bitterness that rises in her throat and tries to ignore the conflicting ache in her heart as she tells her husband what he needs to hear. “You’re nothing like him,” she whispers. The lie burns like acid on her tongue. “Nothing at all.”

Thus reassured, James falls asleep with his head resting on her chest and one arm flung over her stomach. Olivia doesn’t sleep, her mind twisting with worry and fear—but perhaps more disconcerting than that, love for her husband.

The next morning, James leaves for the office despite the fact that it’s a Sunday. Olivia fights the urge to call Hannah, knowing she’s anxious to reach out so she doesn’t have to face changing her situation alone. Now that Maddie no longer just suspects James’s abuse, Olivia can’t pretend that everything will be okay. In the moments they have been without James, her daughter has been adamant about making a plan to leave—and like her father when he sets his mind on something, she will not be deterred. Still, despite Maddie’s protests, on Monday morning Olivia calls the college and withdraws her enrollment. At this point, it’s just too much of a risk.

“Reason for your withdrawal?” the nasally woman in the administration office inquires.

“Family emergency,” Olivia says, thinking this is about as close to the truth as she can get.

“Hold for Professor Lang, please,” the woman says, and before Olivia can protest, her call is transferred.

“Professor Lang,” her teacher says, and Olivia almost hangs up on her, but something makes her stay on the line.

“Hi,” she says awkwardly. “This is Olivia Bell? The office just transferred me to you?”

“Olivia,” Professor Lang says. “I haven’t seen you in class this week.”

Olivia shifts in her chair, swallowing before she answers. “I, um, have a bit of a family emergency going on. I have to withdraw.”

“That’s why the office transferred you, then. I require that students tell me personally why they’re dropping my class.”

Olivia licks her lips nervously, worried the professor will try to get her to admit the situation she’d described was anything but hypothetical. “It’s not personal. I think the class is great. I just . . . like I said. I have a family emergency to deal with.” Please drop it, she thinks. Please just let me go.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Professor Lang says and then waits a beat. “Are you okay, Olivia? Do you need help?”

The muscles in Olivia’s throat thicken; she’s certain Professor Lang has sorted out the truth. “No,” Olivia finally manages to say. “I’m okay. I mean, I will be.” There’s no way to know whether this is true, but Olivia has to believe it. To think otherwise is too frightening. “Thank you for asking, though,” she tells her teacher. “I appreciate it.”

“There’s a lot of help out there,” Professor Lang says quietly. “You just have to reach out.”

“Okay,” Olivia says hurriedly, wanting to get off the phone. She’s already made the mistake of trusting Hannah with her story—she doesn’t want to run the risk with her professor. “Thanks again.”

After she hangs up, she logs on to her computer and runs a couple of Internet searches for women’s shelters and counselors who specialize in domestic abuse, curious about the “other help” Professor Lang had mentioned. The pictures on the shelter websites are full of smiling, happy women of all ages, colors, and sizes—stock photos, the disclaimers at the bottom of the screen state, because of identity protection issues that go along with being a survivor of abuse. Olivia reads through several of the clients’ personal accounts, weeping as she finds herself over and over again in these stories: the constant fear, shame, and self-loathing the women experienced; the terror that strangled their every breath. Will she need to take Maddie to a shelter while she and James sort out their divorce? Her stomach turns over as she imagines his response to her filing. If she doesn’t have any evidence, will she still be able to list verbal and physical abuse as the reason for leaving her marriage? Would a judge believe her?

She clicks through to a few pro bono legal websites, shocked by the length of the waiting lists to see one of these professionals. She has the money to pay for a good lawyer, but she had set it aside to help support Maddie and herself when they are on their own. Hannah had said that James would have to pay her child support and for Maddie’s insurance—they’ve been married over ten years, so she’d be due alimony, too, however distasteful it might feel to take it from him. But if he filed for custody and won, would he have to pay her anything at all? She sits back from her computer and closes her eyes, unsure if she has the courage to leave him, though she acts as though she’s still certain she will when she picks Maddie up later that afternoon.

“I can get any kind of job,” she says after she tells her daughter about dropping out of the class. “Waiting on tables or whatever it takes.”

“But I thought you wanted to become a lawyer,” Maddie says as they drive toward home.

“I used to,” Olivia says with a small, wistful smile. “Now I think maybe I wanted to go back to school as an excuse, you know? A way to postpone having to leave.” She reaches over and pats the top of Maddie’s thigh. “I’ll make some calls, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Maddie nods, but Olivia can see that her daughter doesn’t trust that she’ll follow through. “You haven’t told anyone about your dad other than Noah . . . right?” she asks, trying to keep the inquiry light.

“No, Mom. I’m not someone who goes back on my promises.” Clearly, her words are meant to make a point, and they hit the mark. After everything Maddie’s been through over the years, Olivia knows she owes her daughter a chance to live beyond her father’s angry reach. But her insides churn at the very thought of packing a suitcase, let alone finding a lawyer, and then, possibly facing years of divorce disputes. And there’s the chance that James would come after her—that he would attack them both for leaving. The fear of that moment paralyzes Olivia, making her feel that the only safe movement is no movement at all. She longs for someone other than Maddie to talk with, a friend who might help her find the strength she needs—but the only person she can think of is Hannah.

It’s strange, really, how much Olivia misses her, considering how little she actually knows about the mother of Maddie’s donor. Is everything Hannah purported about herself a lie, or was it just her link to the transplant that she kept secret? There is so much about Hannah that Olivia likes—her sense of humor, her insightfulness, her compassion. Olivia truly believed she had found an ally, someone who understood her like no one else did. She knows that grief can make people do crazy things—behavior they normally would never even consider. She knows that her own propensity to portray a pretty picture of her life with James—not only to the world but to her daughter—isn’t something she ever consciously decided on. It happened gradually, the small lies became one big one. It became her life. At least Hannah was only dishonest with them for a couple of weeks—she admitted she was wrong, she apologized for hurting them. Olivia hopes that someday, perhaps after she finds the courage to break away from James, she can move past the hurt she feels; then she and Hannah can try again.

When they get home and Maddie is ensconced in her bedroom, supposedly doing her homework, but more likely chatting online with Noah, Olivia decides to call Waverly, whom she hasn’t spoken with for months.

“Olivia!” Waverly exclaims. “Long time, no talk!”

“I know,” Olivia says. “Life has been a little hectic around here.”

“How are you, honey? How’s Maddie?”

Olivia can hear the clink of silverware in the background. “We’re okay,” she says. “Did I get you at a bad time? Sounds like you’re out for dinner.”

“I’m at the Olympic Hotel bar, waiting for a drinks date. You should come join me! I’m sure my trainer has an adorable friend I could ask him to bring along.”

Olivia shakes her head, realizing not much has changed about Waverly since she divorced her husband. “That’s kind of you, but I can’t. You know . . . still married to James.”

“Oh, I know that,” Waverly says with a laugh. “But it doesn’t hurt to feed your ego a little bit. You can look at the menu as long as you eat at home.”

“I should just let you go,” Olivia says, deciding it was a bad decision to call. There is no way she will tell Waverly the truth about her marriage. I’m just feeling lonely, she decides. Sad about losing a friend.

“No, no,” Waverly says. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing you, Liv. Did you need something, or did you just call to catch up?”

“Well . . . honestly I was wondering if you were happy with the divorce lawyer you used. I have a friend who’s looking for one.” She knows the “friend” story is a childish one, but she figures this way, if Waverly tells her ex-husband, who works with James, about this call, Olivia can simply fabricate someone from the gym who asked her for the referral.

“A friend?”

“Yes,” Olivia says, hoping she sounds convincing.

Waverly is silent a moment, and Olivia thinks she hears the tinkling of ice cubes in a glass. “You can tell your ‘friend’ that I was extremely happy with my lawyer. Ronald Kress. He squeezed every cent he could out of that rat bastard I married.”

Olivia can almost taste her friend’s bitterness through the phone. “Okay, thanks. I’ll tell her she should call him.” She breathes a sigh of relief, feeling as though she’s at least taken a small step in the right direction today. She’s not sure if she’ll actually call Mr. Kress, but at least she has his name.

“Anytime,” Waverly says. “And Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“Tell your friend to document everything she can. Paperwork, pictures, account numbers, investments . . . whatever she might need to prove how much her husband is worth. If she hasn’t been involved in managing their finances, he’s likely hiding money.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

“Also tell her that leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Waverly continues, and Olivia hears the bumpy hint of tears behind her words. “But it was also the best.”

Olivia thanks her again, and after they hang up, she sits and stares out the window to the backyard, hoping with everything in her that she might someday be able to say the same thing.