lion heart.

Olivia stutters through her words, though she eventually relents and accepts her invitation. In hindsight, the offer had come from Marion unexpectedly. She supposes the brunette has every right to doubt her intentions from moments ago, though she isn’t one to think that far ahead into the future. “It really isn’t a problem,” she attempts to reassure the other, waving a hand in dismissal while she heads quickly back to shut the front door. “I could use the company anyway. I think the dogs are getting sick of all my coddling.” 

As Olivia takes to surveying her apartment, she busies herself with grabbing the egg carton off the shelf and taking a pan off the pot rack. She’d just turned on the heat and placed the well-oiled pan on top of the stove when the other makes an offhand remark, to which Marion laughs in response. “Well, I guess there are some perks to being single,” she remarks, her smile sly, before turning to ask a question herself. “Are kindergarteners really that messy?” She adds, while gently cracking one egg into the pan. Hearing it sizzle gently, she turns down the heat, “I don’t know how you teachers do it. Seriously, I wouldn’t have the patience.” 

–

“They’re very lucky to be coddled.” At the mention of dogs, Olivia’s eyes immediately go to search for them. As if right on cue there’s the distinct jingle of dog tags off from a corner of the apartment as Marion’s four legged friends come around the corner to investigate who the new comer is. Her lips quirk as she goes to bend down to greet them, waiting for them to come to her rather than the other way around. She’d grown up with dogs around the house; her grandparents had owned a hobby farm and needed them to help chase away the various wildlife and herd the sheep but it had been ages since she’d owned a pet of her own. “And besides, it’s less crazy to tell people that you talk to your pets instead of say...your plants.” Which she was guilty as charged for. 

A nervous laugh left Olivia’s lips as she stands from petting the dogs. “I think that just means you’re much tidier than I am.” There were many times at the end of the day or week where she’d return home and intend to clean her apartment. At the very least she tried to keep the mess contained to several rooms instead of letting it invade the rest of the apartment. “Well it depends on the day. I encourage them to clean up after themselves, but you can’t really expect a kindergartener to really scrub a desk down from all the paint they spilled on it right?” She tilts her head to the side, coming to stand a ways away from the woman, mildly aware that she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “What do you do again?” 

JAS: I LOVE YOU MY FRIEND!!!!!

JAS: You can't suggest a field trip and not expect me to start packing already... How many boxes of fruit roll-ups, 2 or 10?

JAS: May I reiterate that I love you very much and that our friendship means the world to me and that I love you and I love you and I love you okay you get the point I WANT THE OVEN PLEASE!!!!!!

JAS: Well, it was 20$ for you guys, but not for me! Silly you, thinking I wouldn't get the finest things for my friends.

JAS: If you want to trade or if you want anything else at all just tell me.

JAS: Fine! I'll trade cupcakes, a year worth of free two scoops cones, the 4 Pokémon cards I have and next time I see you struggle getting up on the hill I'll carry your bike. Do we have a deal?

Olivia: I think we can start with 2. They are pre-schoolers and they tend to eat more with their eyes than their actual bellies.

Olivia: Jas...I thought it was your birthday 😂 not ours

Olivia: But you drive a hard bargain. You can have my oven in exchange for your undying love

Even though she had publicly disappeared from social media over the last almost two years, Olivia had made a quiet appearance back on Instagram for the sole purpose of running a plant mom account. The community that had blossomed (did you see what she did there) from it had been one of the precious things in her life since moving to Catalina. In fact, she’d made a friend out of another self-proclaimed plant dad that lived on the island, something that she was quite pleased with herself for doing. New friends and new interactions naturally lead to her deciding that maybe new experiences would be the thing she’d push herself to do this year. What had happened to the daring young woman before 2019? It was that thought that carried her towards a skate park in Avalon with a skateboard in hand and a helmet on her head. But what had started out as feelings of excitement quickly turns into a nervousness in the pit of her stomach. What if she hurt herself? What if she accidentally hurt Rory? Before she can consider heading home though or cancelling on him, she’s there. And she knows that leaving now without actually trying would only make her feel worse. Quickly she reaches for her phone, sending off a quick text to her online friend. I’m here! It shouldn’t be hard to spot me - I’m the nervous looking woman with all the really cushy elbow and knee pads. 

“I’ve always thought Hawaii would be nice. The warm sand. The sun. The laid back nature of things. But then again...I do burn easily. I might have to rethink that one or invest heavily in more sunblock than I own now.”

Time moved differently on Catalina. It had been 7 months since Olivia had arrived on the island and there were days when she woke up and it felt like it had been longer. Or sometimes she’d be in the middle of teaching class and feel like no time had passed at all. Like she’d arrived yesterday. Like returning home to Stockholm had never happened and that Peter was still there. Olivia knew of course that time trudged on regardless of how she felt, putting more and more space between herself and her past life. It was supposed to be a gift, her mother said, because it meant that the pain would lessen until it was a mere blip instead of a crashing wave. Catalina had been good for her in that way. It was hard to wallow when she was knee deep in lesson planning and so close to the sea. 

But sometimes her life liked to catch up with her and remind her that she couldn’t leave everything in the past. She’s in Grow, finding herself drawn there to find some seedlings for her classroom and maybe something else for her growing plant collection, when her fingers brush against a pot at the same time that someone else’s does. “Oh sorry,” Olivia starts, drawing her fingers back and turning to face - Lara. “Oh.” Her face burns, her shame suddenly rearing its head. 

JAS: I miss you always this is called FRIENDSHIP or this is called pathetic, but i prefer the first option

JAS: I can make more for the kids!!!! Or I could visit one time and we could have a crafting session! It requires hot glue, but I'm sure we could manage to make sure we don't forget to unplug the glue gun and burn the school down.

JAS: In the imaginary book of the gift-exchange-that-is-not-really-a-gift-exchange, there is a rule that says you keep your present and find a way for it to bring you joy, but there's an asterisk that leads to something written in tiny font that mentions that if the birthday girl was sad not to get with the easy bake oven, you can switch!

JAS: DID YOU GET THE EASY BAKE OVEN

Olivia: Oh...Well I guess if it's friendship 💛 The last thing you are is pathetic

Olivia: I think we'd have to handle the hot glue but yes!! I love that idea and we might be able to wrangle a field trip out of it to the beach...

Olivia: ...I might have got the easy bake oven

JAS: Hi Liv!!!

JAS: Thank you for helping me out after the party... Despite me practically forcing you out of my lawn so you didn't have to stay up too late.

JAS: I hope you had as much fun as I did today!

JAS: I MISS YOU

JAS: Btw I painted one of the seashells from that time you made me carry your very heavy bike. I glued on so many shiny rhinestones on it it can work as a paper weight. I'll give it to you next time we see each other!

Olivia: Jazz how can you miss me we just saw each other! 😂

Olivia: And of course I was more than happy to help and celebrate your day

Olivia: I'll bring it into work to put on my desk. The kids will probably get a kick out of it

Olivia is quick to offer an explanation, to which Marion listens and nods along. Contrary to popular opinion, she is not nearly heartless enough so as to deprive children of their art projects. “Mhm, I see,” she says, sparing a quick glance at her kitchen. Eventually, she decides the brunette’s purpose is a good as an excuse as any to get rid of the remaining eggs in her cartons — and, for once, to prepare breakfast at a perfectly respectable hour.  

“Are you rushing to get back?” Marion asks as she swings the door wider, a wordless invitation for the other to come inside. “Because if you aren’t, I could treat you to some scrambled eggs. I was due to have breakfast anyway,” she points at the kitchen countertop, where the cartons holding only four more eggs haphazardly lay, “You could take them right after that.” 

–

Marion’s offer comes as a surprise to Olivia, and the surprise is evident on her face. They hadn’t exactly been on the friendliest of terms. Civil, sure. Or maybe awkward on Olivia’s part and civil for Marion. But this definitely crossed beyond civil. Did people that were being civil offer to make someone else breakfast? Could scrambled eggs be considered an olive branch? The last thing she wanted to do was get ahead of herself. “Uhm - no,” she stutters, before mentally telling herself to shut her mouth because it was probably agape before taking a hesitant step into the blonde’s apartment. “I’d love that if it isn’t too much trouble.” 

A part of Olivia can’t help but observe her surroundings. She has a habit of taking everything in, but there’s a part of her that can’t help but be curious about Marion’s apartment in particular. The apartment is neat, decorated with vintage furniture and a wide open view of the ocean. It isn’t what she expects but it still fits what little Olivia knows of Marion at the same time. “It’s so weird being in other people’s apartments and homes,” Olivia finds herself speaking before she can stop herself and a bit of a laugh escapes her lips. “They’re a lot more clean and don’t look like a preschool ran through it.”

set: a friday afternoon location: ventura coffee roasting co. availability: open | @catalinastarter·

Milena could hardly see the table in front of her seat within the establishment. Aside from a few papers, there was also her Ipad in front of her, in which she had been going through a few sketches for her new collection for the brand. Her mind was constantly strolling through ideas that didn’t seem good enough for the brunette. A frustration that she didn’t need for that day. Then, wandering eyes would meet strangers passing by the coffee shop, anything that would ease her mind prior to trying again. At some point, Lena found herself staring at someone, for longer than she should have. Embarrassed, she chuckled. “I’m sorry… I know– I was staring at you, I just loved the color of your clothes.” Milena pointed out, hoping it helped her case instead of making the situation even more awkward. “I was trying to replicate it for this dress, maybe a gradient with this other color? Or maybe I should’ve just given up on being creative for the day and go back into attempting to finish a Sudoku or something. Do you need a seat? I don’t mind the company, honestly.”

–

Dipping her toes back into song writing was an apprehensive act all in itself for Olivia. It had been hard to reach for inspiration when she had been in such a place of despair; it had been as if her body had shut off any part of her that wasn’t pertinent to her survival. As a result, she found herself feeling apprehensive about starting again. But her body craved it as much as she feared it, so it’s only second nature for her mind to wander off down a string or a fleeting thought. Olivia stands in the coffee shop that day, absentmindedly searching for a spot to sit, the tune of something playing in her head when a voice breaks through. “Hm?” she asks, looking over before flushing realizing what the woman was saying. She casts a glance down at the burnt orange skirt and cream collared short sleeve she had donned that day before looking at brunette. “Oh thank you I...can’t take credit for it since I didn’t make it,” she laughs. “From the sounds it, you design clothes though?”

Catalina wasn’t exactly a big island - sometimes places were a bit too far to walk, but still cars were seldom necessary. Gwen had never even bother to get a license, never learned to drive. From Catalina, to New York, to Los Angeles, it didn’t seemed worth the money to invest in a car and, therefore, knowing how to operate one was equally pointless. It was a fact that people laughed at because ’who doesn’t know how to drive?’ Gwen didn’t, and it didn’t bother her. The sea air combed through her hair as she meandered home from a quick meeting with a local shop that wanted some publicity to expand their business. She smiled absentmindedly at the beauty of the day - this wasn’t something you could experience through the glass and metal of a car. Her peace was interrupted by the nearby mumbling of a woman in clear need of assistance. “ I’m here, but if I’m being honest, I’d rather help you just walk your things up than try to push you on that bike, ” she offered warmly to her friend. “ We can give it a shot, though. ”

–

“Gwen!” A warm smile immediately blooms across Olivia’s face. Their surprising friendship had come from a trip to the plant nursery. It wasn’t like Olivia considered herself someone that had a green thumb; the survival of her plants mostly came from a series of trial and errors and browsing internet threads for  answers to her questions. She had been relieved when Gwen had joined her in her exploration of plant raising. It had been a small blessing that she had needed after shortly moving to Catalina and now knowing a single soul. “Are you sure you don’t want to help push me up the hill? It could be that workout that we always talk about doing and not...doing.” Without waiting for an answer though, she begins the slow march up the hill, her calves already beginning to scream at her. 

He had gone to Avalon that day to visit one of the kids that were a part of his program because he said he would during their last classes and he was excited to see that the kid had all of his homework done, proudly showing and telling him that the cognitive therapy had been helping with his ADHD. He hated, however, the part where parents thanked him, as if he was some kind of savior, some kind of hero. In his mind, he was just doing the bare minimum that someone with his money and position could do, especially when the kid’s parents couldn’t afford for their son’s therapy. Those visits made him feel light and heavy at the same time. 

On his way out of their house and on the walk to his car— he would never tell his mother he went driving that day— an interesting scene caught his attention. A woman, with far too many on her bike, contemplating a hill he assumed she would have to climb if she wanted to get to wherever she was intending on getting to. He stepped closer until he could hear her own words of encouragement to herself and with his good hand on the front of his jeans pocket he cleared his throat. “You’re not actually considering going all the way up, are you?”

–

The voice startles her and her eyes go wide, realizing perhaps several beats too late that the voice is addressing her. Her surprise ends up dissolving into an embarrassed laugh despite wondering if she kept him waiting there long. “Is there something at the top of the hill that you know about that I don’t?” It hadn’t been that long since she had taken this route, and it was mostly a joke. But maybe there was something she was missing. Best not to worry herself though. “I could go the other way around but it’s going to take me twice as long.” Olivia casts a mildly worried glance at the hill that suddenly looked steeper than she had previously thought. “Any chance you can fly?” 

It’s almost baffling how dull her days had become. More than a year living in Catalina and her life has fallen into a normal, if rather boring, routine. The work, the dogs, the occasional visit from her brother who’d lived in the city. He would talk about his dull little predicaments and his ideas at never-ending length, which means he’s not always the best listener, but still, they’re company for each other. It makes her mornings a little less lonely and somehow that’s okay. 

And, on that Sunday morning, she expects little else. Sure enough, there’s a series of knocks on her door. Perfectly fine raps against the door by delicate knuckles, nothing like the barrage of smashes, of fist against wood with which her brother often terrorizes her. For a moment, she’s glad, wonders which of the losers he hangs out with (counting her, of course) had finally knocked some common courtesy into him. As she swings the door open, however, it’s another figure entirely. Her eyebrows furrow as she takes the unusual sight in, and then the unusual offer. “Oh, I’m sorry, is that — is that code for something?” she says, arching a brow, “I suppose eggs I’d understand. But cartons? Whatever would you need that for?”  

–

The response isn’t what she’s anticipating, but what else is someone supposed to say to her less than usual question? Olivia can’t help but flush, letting out a sheepish laugh. “No, no code or anything weird. I miscounted the number I’d need and it’s for the kids’ art projects.” Really, she could leave it there. And she probably should. But Olivia always got a little wordy when she was flustered or nervous. And all of her interactions with Marion have left her distinctly nervous. 

“My last resort is going back to the store but then I’ll have more eggs than I’ll be able to eat. So I thought,” she motions to the hallway around them with several doors leading to their neighbours, “Why not ask a neighbour for some proverbial sugar?” It’s then that she catches herself again. Shit. “I mean that in a strictly normal way.” 

By now, especially at this very point in time, Jack has begun to believe that either this island was cursed or some prevalent ghost had a message for him. He hadn’t been there too long, just over a year now, yet people from his past had make themselves known one by one and over and over again. Though, this time, he doesn’t quite seem to flinch into his anxiousness while in Olivia’s presence. No, she was different, someone he had always loved even from the start. The moment he heard her sing, years ago, he knew she was special and that hasn’t quite changed, even with time apart. She was a friend that he lost, and that loss is something he hasn’t recovered from, among many others. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” He says, laughing a little. Though it’s strained, oozing nervousness, “You know me, always…picking up hobbies.” Oh God, Jack, really? He mentally winces at his choice of words. “How are you?” He decides on next, his tone sincere now. He gathers the rest of his yarn and actually decides to put some back. The singer carefully places them back onto the shelf at their sides. “Do you live here now? On the island, I mean.”

–

Losing Peter and everything they had been building together hurt, but Olivia hadn’t just lost Peter that day. She’d lost Jack too. She’d lost their musical compatibility, but perhaps the worst thing that had come from that had been losing their friendship. There had been plenty of times during the last year that Olivia had wanted to reach out to him to see how he was doing, but thinking about that alone brought a slough of emotions that reminded her why she couldn’t. 

She had been naive to think that moving here also meant not running into Jack.  Figures it would be just her luck to run into him at the arts and craft store. Her response comes a beat later as she tries to find her words suddenly filled with a wild range of emotions: happiness at seeing him again, relief knowing that he was okay, and a bitter taste at the back of her throat that she couldn’t get rid of it. Olivia finally nods. “Yeah. I...thought about moving back to LA but I think I wanted a little something quieter. It didn’t feel like home anymore.” And then she blinks a couple of times realizing the kind of mess her basket probably looks like. “I teach now. I promise I haven’t gotten into egg painting in my free time.”

the brunette was walking around the neighbourhood with her earbuds in and singing along to whatever song that played on her own nano ipod. she was too focus on remembering the lyrics to all of her favourite britney spears songs to realize other residents looked at her strangely, until she started to look strangely at one person in particular. at first, jas thought they were texting in the middle of the way, holding their phone at eye level and taking photos of the hill. slowly, everything clicked and she walked a little faster until she reached the bike, and its owner. “you know there’s a way around, right?” jasmine tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the hill. she avoided it ever since she was a child, saved by her mother who disapproved she rolled down the hill on her scooter when she was seven years-old. she remembered wanting to throw a fit really badly, but she was old enough now to realize that it was dangerous.

“ollie!” she finally recognized her friend, her face lit up with a wide smile. “i’m sure your thighs are made of steel and would get you up there, but instead of being sore all day, we could stroll on the beach and collect seashells!” her excited clapping stopped. “oh, but the bike… this thing doesn’t go on sand, does it?” she did not wait for an answer. “i know what could help! i could jump around and wave this…” she took her small backpack off her shoulders and searched through it, holding a scrunchie and a particularly long receipt from the grocery store like they were pom-poms. “to cheer for you! sounds like a brilliant idea to me!”

–

Had she not paused her music, Olivia probably wouldn’t have heard her name being called. That being said, even as she pauses to consider if she’s actually being addressed, she lets out a mild squeak when Jasmine appears seemingly out of nowhere. Her hand clutches her chest out of surprise before the surprise quickly dissolves into a laugh at seeing her friend. “Honestly that sounds so much better than trying to tackle this hell hill.” She usually avoided it if she could even on days when she didn’t have as large of a grocery haul. Apparently her mind had been elsewhere today and was just on autopilot. 

Whatever she had been ruminating about unconsciously though flew out the window. With Jasmine’s sunny disposition it was hard not to be anything but smiling or laughing with her. “Wait a minute you’re not even going to help me move the bike if we go to the beach?” She motions to the laden canvas bags. “Jasmine this is your idea. Tell you what, if you help me push it up the hill I’ll come to the beach with you after.” Part of it was selfish; spending five days a week speaking to preschoolers meant that she was desperate for conversations with an adult. And who better than Jasmine? 

STARTER FOR: @olivia-nilsson· LOCATION: A local craft store. SETTING: March 2nd, 2021. 2:00PM.

After finishing his workout, Jack had planned on going home. Yet, that didn’t happen. Instead, he wanders, trying to find new distractions from his mind. It’s welcomed, really, and he does begin to feel better the more he remains out in the sun, taking in fresh early-March air. He stumbles into a grocery store around mid-way, plucking a box of Ding Dong’s from the shelf before purchasing them. Then, his wandering continues. He’s in and out of stores, browsing with nothing much else to do. This becomes routine until the island’s craft stores comes into view. Maybe it was time for a new hobby. Perhaps he can start painting pictures or making blankets for loved ones. So, he heads inside, the yarn near the heart of the store. He reaches for some blue yarn, then yellow, then red, and then white. Primary colors should do the trick. Oh, right, he needs a needle. What needle does one even use? The question comes and goes, Jack’s lips pursing in thought. Maybe he should have stuck with painting. He turns, thinking to ask an employee for advice, but ends up colliding with someone in pursuit. He drops all his yarn and, yes, the box of Ding Dong’s. “Shit,” He mutters, “God, I’m so sorry,” He moves to crouch down, gathering what’s fallen.

The singer grabs at his yarn and then, embarrassingly, the box of his snack craving. His cheeks go a little red from the interaction, having not yet looked at the person he’s just ran himself into by mistake. Jack swallows hard before averting his gaze upward. To see Olivia earns his face to drop, brows knitting together, “Olivia?” He questions, his tone weathered by disbelief. A part of him can’t help but ponder over the irony of this situation, especially given Jack’s current state of mind. He’s been quite low the last few days. Maybe this was the world’s way of throwing his life into a whirlwind once more. 

It should be embarrassing how quickly Olivia became a regular at the craft store. But that’s what she got for being a teacher that a taught with a hands on style. Where was the fun of being a kid if you couldn’t work with your hands and get them a little dirty? Some of her parents thought otherwise she supposed, thinking back to the time that she had announced finger painting was the activity for that afternoon, but hey. Clothes could always be washed. 

This particular trip to the store had nothing to do with paint luckily. Or rather, it was paint adjacent. She was stocked to the brim with materials for painting Easter Eggs and she figures getting a head start on buying them materials will save her the hassle later. Who knew what the other teachers were planning for their classes after all? Her basket is full with glitter and fake gemstones, and she’s about to head to the check out when she pauses, realizing that some yarn might be fun too. It’s easy for her to get distracted when she’s here - so distracted in fact that it’s also far too easy for her to run right into someone. Craft supplies go clattering to the floor along with the yarn from the other stranger and her face immediately flushes with embarrassment. “Oh god I’m so sorry -,” the words are out of her mouth and she’s on the floor, reaching to grab the yarn for them before realizing exactly who it is. “...Jack.” Her flush deepens, her eyes turning wide. “You...Is this your yarn?” 

Olivia’s apartment looks like it could be a small plant nursery. Not just because she’s got her own collection of plants strewn about the place, but the bags of soil and the seed packets strewn about make it seem like she’s trying to grow more. Honestly, she might as well have been. She’s spent the morning pulling everything together; the idea was that the kids would plant little seedlings into empty egg cartons, and they’d track the growth of the seeds as the weeks went on. It was a way for them to get their hands dirty and teach them a little responsibility along the way. But as she straightens up from the floor, Olivia feels her heart sink. Shit. 

She miscounted the number of egg cartons she needed. In a flash, she’s pulling on a pair of clogs and rushing out the door and knocking on the first door she sees. Neighbours asked neighbours for their egg cartons all the time, right? So fixated on her task, Olivia doesn’t realize that the door she’s knocking on though is Marion’s - and it’s too late for her to do anything or back away when the door opens to reveal the blonde. Shit shit shit. An embarrassed, sheepish smile appears on her face. “Hi Marion. Sorry to bug you I just - do you have any empty egg cartons I could have?” 

Whoever said that the life of a preschool teacher was easy had obviously never met one. Olivia loved her job. She really did. But she was regretting her choice of putting together a lesson plan that involved the kids planting and nursing their own seedlings and plants. In theory, it was a really good idea. But executing it? Well, that’s what she was having trouble with. In addition to her usual grocery run, she had opted to complete her lesson prep at the exact same time. Her canvas bags are laden with food, art supplies, leafy greens, and packets of seeds and soil for her kids. A lifetime of biking around Stockholm has prepared her for a lifestyle where she bikes most places - but as she stands at the bottom of a hill, Olivia can’t help but look miserably upwards contemplating why she was so ambitious that particular morning. Letting out a huge sigh, she hops off her bike, mentally preparing herself to push it and her bags up the hill. “Come on, Nilsson. There’s no one else here to push you up the hill,” she utters to herself.