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Olivia wasn’t sure if there was a god. She hadn’t been raised in a religious way, in her first home, and her second home was much the same. But whenever she thought about the concept god, she wanted to scream. She just got so angry, because if there was a god and if he was as just and loving as everyone said he was, then why did he let so many people hurt? Why would he take an eight year old’s parent’s away from her?
She loved her dads with everything she had, even before they were her dads, she loved them so much. She loved her family. She also missed her real parents, missed them desperately. Six years since the accident and it still hurt. She was still hurting.
The anniversary of that night was in five days. Olivia had been holding back the tears for the past week, sitting up at night looking at the framed picture she kept on her nightstand. Angry and sad and a host of all these other emotions that she couldn’t really put a name on.
Her last clear memory with her real parents was giving them tight hugs before they dropped her off at Ian and Mickey’s, because they were going out, just the two of them. Her mother smelled like vanilla and perfume —Olivia still has that bottle of perfume tucked away in her dresser. It’s Burberry; her father saved up and bought it every Christmas.
Then after Olivia hugged her mother, she hugged her father; he was warm and solid, and kissed her forehead before they left. He smelled like Old Spice; sometimes she hugs Mickey a little longer because he smells like Old Spice too, it’s a different version, but it’s close enough.
I love you more than the universe —that’s what they used to say to her. I love you more than the universe.
It sucked. It just sucked. Sometimes she would sit on the front steps of her home and stare at her old home across the street. There’s a new family there now. They have a little girl and a little boy. Olivia doesn't know their names, doesn’t talk to them. Pop and Dad don’t talk to them either, but they look nice enough. They wave.
There was a light knock on her bedroom door; Olivia wiped at her eyes, even though there wasn’t anything to wipe away, “Come in.”
Dad. Olivia gave him a little smile when he popped his head in, “Hey kid.”
“Hey,” she sighed.
“You get your homework done?” he asked, opening the door, leaning against the frame.
She nodded, “Yeah, didn’t have much.”
Ian nodded back, “Cool… you okay? Been kinda quiet all night.”
“I’m okay,” Olivia didn't know if it was a lie, but it felt forced. “Just tired.”
There was a little pause, where it looked like Ian was trying to figure out if Olivia was being honest. Because he knew, obviously, he knew that she had a hard time around this time of year. He and Pop had a hard time too, her parents were really close with them after all. She lost a mom and dad. They lost best friends.
He walked over and sat down on her bed next to her; they leaned up against the wall, staring at the dozens of posters she had taped up on the wall opposite of her bed.
"Sometimes I forget," Ian said quietly. "I forget that you aren't actually mine and your Pop's, and you haven't lived here your whole life. I know that sounds messed up, but I just forget. I miss them. I wish you still had them, but I can't even picture my life without you here."
Olivia curled her hand around Ian's and squeezed, "I know what you mean."
He looked over at her, giving her a lopsided smile, squeezing her hand back, "Good, because I really do wish you still had them. They'd be so proud of you."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, "They'd be really proud of you too."
Olivia hadn't known a moment of her life when Ian and Mickey weren't in it. She grew up around them; playing and running around in backyard barbecues, watching movies with big bowls of popcorn. She used to climb all over Mickey, and play with Ian's hair, and follow Yev around. They'd been family since before she could crawl.
She really couldn't imagine what her life would have been now, what she would have been like, without Ian and Mickey adopting her. And she felt a little guilty for that because she missed her real parents so much and wished they were still around. But the reality was they weren't around, and she was adopted... and she was happy. Then the guilt would set in again.
But her mom and dad would want her to be happy, right? They'd want her to enjoy her life, to live, to love Ian and Mickey and be happy with them. It was a cycle that used to be so upsetting a few years ago, but was getting easier now. She was happy. She loved her family -how it was before and how it is now. It was sad. But it was good at the same time.
“I think we should go to the zoo this weekend,” Ian said a few moments later.
Olivia snorted a laugh, feeling her shoulders lighten a little, “Pop hates the zoo.”
“I know,” Ian grinned, looking over at her. “Listening to him bitch about it is half the fun.”
“And over to your right, we got another fucking cage of bears,” Olivia dropped her voice, imitating her Pop, throwing her hand out. “Big fucking surprise!”
Ian laughed, “It’s too hot for this shit, I’m fucking sweating through my fucking shirt and a bottle of water is five fucking dollars, fuck this!”
Olivia laughed loudly, her whole face scrunching up while she did so. She knew that the whole trip to the zoo thing was supposed to make her feel better, or take her mind off of what was coming up, just get her out and doing something. And maybe any other time she would have been a little annoyed by it, because when she was sad she wanted to be sad, and when she was angry, she wanted to be angry.
But right now, sitting on her bed with her Dad, laughing and feeling the tension in her body fade away… she didn’t mind. It’s what she needed, and he knew that.
“So you want to do that?” Ian asked, after they calmed down. “Wanna go to the zoo and make your Pop miserable?”
Olivia felt her face heat up a little, because yes that sounded like a really fun day, but, “I was actually going to ask if I could… hang out with Jordan for a little while on Saturday.”
Ian sighed long and drawn out, “Ah, Jordan. Okay… how about the zoo on Sunday then?”
She nodded, “That would be nice.”
“Good,” Ian grinned, running a hand over his red hair.
“Is it okay, though —if I hang out with Jordan?” Olivia asked, “I know you and Pop hate him.”
Ian frowned, “We don’t hate him.”
Olivia gave her Dad a flat look, “You don’t like him, then.”
Ian wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “I remember when I was fifteen, being completely in love with this dirty, shop-lifting, shit-talking little heathen boy.”
“Pop?” Olivia grinned.
He nodded, “Pop. He was violent and rough, and angry at everything and everyone. But I saw something that no one else saw —he let me see something no one else saw.”
“Was he sweet?” Olivia asked.
Ian snorted, “No, he was a shithead. But he had his moments; he was different with me.”
Olivia nodded, knowing what Ian was talking about, without him having to explain it further, “Jordan’s different with me.”
“Good,” Ian said. “Just be careful.”
“Okay Dad,” Olivia sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.