Oliver Ausman Lives Again

twelve

"We're in the car, he's driving," Charlie answers, unbelievably calm. I pick my head up and glance at Kat, who's watching him. She looks surprisingly worried for someone who had just been trying to convince me to answer the phone. "Oh, um... hold on."

Charlie pulls the phone away from his ear, hitting the mute button. "She wants to know where we are, do you want me to tell her?"

I hold out my hand for the phone, knowing Charlie shouldn't be responsible for communicating my decisions. He hands it over and I un-mute myself, taking a deep breath before putting the phone to my ear. "Mom?"

"Oliver!" Her voice is almost hoarse with anger, and although I've heard her scold me a million times, I can't say I remember her ever sounding so unstable. "Where are you?"

"The where isn't really what's important," I answer vaguely. Maybe it's a mistake-- the last thing I want is to draw this out. The sooner this conversation is over, the better.

"Oliver--"

"Okay, alright. I'm in New York. Charlie is safe-- he wanted to come so I let him, and I haven't let him out of my sight."

Kat gives me a look since we both know it's a lie, but I'd rather keep my momentary lapse of judgment a secret from my mother for, ideally, the rest of my life.

"I'm going to meet Isaac-- you know, my father," I continue, unable to help myself from snapping. "That's what I meant in the note, when I said I found out you'd been lying to me."

"Oh, and you think this is the best way to handle it?" she questions me like it's the stupidest thing she's ever witnessed. I hate when her voice gets this tone, equal parts annoyed and annoying. "Why not try talking to us, Oliver?"

"Talking?" I repeat, forcing out a cold laugh. "We don't talk, Mom. God, I don't even know why I'm surprised you never told me." 

I'm never this blunt. Usually around Mom, my strategy is to stay silent, only speaking up if I really feel the need. But when I'm hundreds of miles away from any potential consequences, it feels a lot easier to let loose. 

"You want to talk?" I ask, driving up to the next intersection, where we're quickly stopped again. I guess it's for the better-- with no GPS, I have no fucking idea where I'm going. "Why don't we talk about why I wasn't home for half the month? Why don't we talk about how you lied to all my teachers and told them I was sick, or how you forced me to hide the truth from all the people you invited over yesterday? Better yet, how about we talk about the fact that you hired a stranger to talk to me about all this shit so that you wouldn't have to?"

There's a pause. Two seconds of uncomfortable silence, where I'm forced to hear my words play back in my mind and know that Charlie and Kat heard the whole thing.

"Oliver." It's a different voice-- Peter's voice. I guess my little speech was enough to make Mom tired of talking. Big surprise. "Just come home. We can explain everything about Isaac, okay? We will talk."

"I'll come home, but not until after I meet him. Until then, don't call me. If you want to talk to Charlie, fine-- I get it. But I'm... I mean, you're kidding yourselves if you think I'll ever see you the way I did before."

"I don't want to have to come bring you home myself, Oli," he threatens, voice stern and yet somehow a million times less intimidating than Mom's. "This doesn't have to be a big deal."

"I'd say this is the exact fucking definition of a big deal. And If you don't want to, then don't. I'll be back, probably by tomorrow. I know what I'm doing," I bluff, ignoring the fact that I don't even know what turn I'm supposed to take next. 

I've heard enough and said way more than I meant to, so I don't wait for a response, before giving him a flat "Goodbye," and hanging up the phone.

As always, thanks so much for reading!