The Truth we Kept: A forgotten Love Story

Chapter Three

There was a wad of cash in it along with a small one lined note.

“I'm sorry Livy. Please forgive me, yours sincerely, your best friend.”

My legs gave up and I crumpled to the ground bawling my eyes out until sleep washed over me.

For almost an hour the next morning, I heard Nathan catcalling at me from my room window but I ignored him, crying silently on the bed. I jumped each time a pebble hit the glass as he tried to grab my attention.

Did he really think he would insult me like that and we'll act like nothing happened? Say our good-byes like I'm not carrying his child??? What a f*****g joke.

I was glad both my parents had gone to the farm or else, I wouldn't have gotten away with hiding out in my room or gotten away from answering questions.

I heard his mother telling him they were going to be late and moments later, the screeching sound of a car driving down the road filled the air.

Wrapping my hand around my stomach, I whispered to myself, “there goes your dad.”

I had decided to keep the pregnancy and I didn't know what to tell my mother until I began showing. And trust me, she didn't take it very well.

“How could you get pregnant and let the father of the child leave the damn continent? If I didn't give birth to you, I would doubt you were my child.” My mother asked like she could not believe I would be so stupid.

“Mum, he asked me to get rid of it. Him and his mother, they both asked me to kill my child.” I said crying, there was snot running down my nose unattractively.

She scoffed, “and that's exactly what you're going to do. I'll have no child of mine raise a bastard child under my roof!” She said, slamming a hand on the old wooden table. The old table creaked loudly under the impact of her hand.

“First thing in the morning, I'll take you to the nurse at the clinic down the hill, she'll know what to do with you.” She shot me a look of disgust before turning on her heels and walking away.

I turned my attention to my father who had been quiet through all of it but he turned his face away from me. Just the way one would do a person who brings shame to him. That's what I was to them, a disgrace.

That night, with all the money I've saved over the years plus the money Nathan left for me, I moved out of the small village to a town upstate without looking back. “You can't accept me and not my child.”

Sometime in late fall, I gave birth to my boy, Liam. I loved him before I even set my eyes on him.

(Five years later)

“Girl, be for real. You've actually never thought of going to look for him since he left?” My co-worker, Chanel, asked me in disbelief. I had just finished giving her a brief explanation of my story after she kept probing.

“No, I didn't,” I deadpanned. She opened her mouth to say something else but I cut her off.

“Chanel, come on. I told you already, this is a conversation I do not want to have right now yet you're making me have it.” I said sternly, walking away.

“Olivia, you have a four year old son that you are struggling to cater for. We've been working together for a year now and not–”

I sighed heavily, turning around to face her. “Chanel, can you drop it?” I hissed, starting to get irritated.

“Can you at least look up his name? See if he's a big shot now and maybe you can get child support,” she said with a shrug.

I took a long, deep breath, doing all in my power not to scream at her. I decided against saying anything further to her and just walked away instead.

I was currently working three jobs- a sales rep for a high end boutique, a waitress for a small breakfast cafe and a cleaner for my neighbor's store - yet, the payment was barely enough to get by.

When we moved to New York a year ago, I thought I was ready. I thought I would find a 6 or 7 hour day job, get a small affordable apartment and enroll my son in a nice kindergarten so I had enough time to work.

But since we got, it's been one meager paying job after the other, and I was begging for rent extensions every single month. Just like it was in Oklans where we moved from.

I was starting to get overwhelmed with emotions so I took a short break and was walking outside to grab another cup of coffee when I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry,” I apologized, bending to pick her purse that fell off her hands. It was a woman that looked to be in her mid fifties, she had a large pair of sunglasses on her face.

“I'm really sorry ma'am, I wasn't watching where I was going,” I said, handing the purse to her.

She gave me one of the warmest smiles I had ever seen. “That's okay, thank you for the purse,” she responded before walking away.

I hurriedly grabbed the coffee and went back into the boutique.

The bell above the boutique's door chimed a few minutes after I went back in, drawing my attention away from the endless rack of designer dresses I'd been organizing.

The woman I had bumped into before strode in, her posture was exuding wealth and confidence. Her knee length dress probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Welcome to The Elysian," I greeted with a small bow, plastering on my best customer service smile. "How may I assist you today?"

Her sunglasses now sat perfectly on the top of her head. The woman's eyes swept a sharp and discerning gaze over me, recognition flashing in her eyes.

“It's you!” She exclaimed with a smile.

“I'm sorry again for bumping into you,” I said shakily, scared that my earlier actions might cost us to lose a client.

The woman waved my apology off before walking ahead of me. “I need something for a charity gala next weekend. Nothing too flashy, but it should make a statement."

I nodded, already mentally cataloging our inventory. "Of course ma'am. May I ask what style or brand you would prefer? And do you have any color preferences?"

“Oh! Mrs Price!” the manager exclaimed, rushing to my side. “I had no idea you were here already, how may I assist you?”

The woman gave her a clipped smile, “thank you but I'm already being attended to,” she said, dismissing her politely.

“Kiss ass,” I heard Mrs Price say under her breath, making me stifle a laugh.

Chanel looked at me questioningly from a distance but I shrugged in ignorance.

As we discussed her tastes, I pulled out dresses that might suit her. Her demeanor softened as we talked, and I found myself genuinely enjoying our conversation.

"You have quite the eye for fashion," she remarked, admiring a midnight blue gown I'd selected. "How long have you worked here?"

"Just a little over a year," I replied, smoothing the fabric and adding it to the pile draped over my arm.

Her eyebrows rose. "I never would have guessed. Where are you from?"

"A small town in Ohio," I said curtly. "It's a whole world away from New York."

"Indeed it is," she mused.

“Shall we try on some of these dresses?"

I helped her in and out of gowns, and our conversation surprisingly flowed easily. She told me about her work with various charities as well as a bit about her family.

"You know," she said, emerging from the dressing room in a stunning emerald dress that hugged her curves perfectly, "you have impeccable taste, dear."

She studied her reflection, turning this way and that. "Yes! This is the one."

As I rang up her purchase, she gave me an intense gaze. "Olivia, was it?” She started.