Livvy (58 page)

“And it’s definitely been a nice place to visit,” I say.

“I do love it here,” my wife admits.

As Jon and Jackson discuss their predictions for the World Series, Emi leans into me as we watch the city’s scenery pass by us.

“Hold that thought,” Jon says, interrupting my son.
“Você pode parar o carro e nos esperar, por favor?”
he says to the driver. It takes me a minute to translate. My Portuguese is rusty, but I finally determine he’s asked to pull over to the curb just before the driver actually does it. “Up here on your right...” Emi cranes her neck to see out the window on my side of the car.

“That building?” I ask, staring up at a ten-story high-rise that’s covered in colorful imagery that has my daughter’s signature strokes all over it.

“Incredible, right?”

The driver pulls over to the curb and stops the car, letting us get out and see the artwork up close. “It’s figurative,” I say, taking in the scene that spans the entire wall from the sidewalk to the roof.

“Very good, Jacks,” Emi says, clearly impressed that I recognized the style Livvy had used to paint this particular work.

“It’s a wedding?” I ask, making out the forms of a bride and groom standing alone in front of a vast expanse of rolling hills on one side and the endless sea on the other.

“The building owner wanted something romantic, but traditional.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say, marveling in the way the forms of the bride and groom seem to meld into one another. “Look how she shaded their hands, Em,” I say to her, pointing to the single point that clearly unites them as one.

“Stunning. Jon, will you take our picture in front of it?” Emi asks, handing him her camera.

“Of course.”

Jackson steps out of the frame. In most instances, I’d want to include our son in the photo, but I like the romanticism of the old happily married couple standing in front of the painting of the young happily married couple. We hold hands, just as they do in the wallscape.

Once Emi has approved of the pictures, we get back in the car and resume the drive to the hotel. “Listen, Trey,” Jon says. “Livvy has dinner plans tonight with Ariana. I thought maybe you and I could go shoot some hoops or something and grab a bite. She thinks I’m hanging out with some of my co-workers.”

Jackson looks to me for approval. Every time we make a trip to Brazil, Jon and Livvy take Jackson out or invite him to stay in their apartment with them. He thinks it’s for his benefit, but I have no doubt they do it to give my wife and I some time alone. “That’s fine. Do you think you could take him to get a razor? He left his at home.”

“No problem. Is there anything else we can pick up for you? Anything to make your stay more comfortable?”

“No, thank you,” I tell him. “We splurged and did the VIP service at the Alessandro hotel. I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay.”

“I’m pretty sure you will,” Jon laughs. “We did that one weekend, just to see what it was like. For the hell of it, we requested authentic Italian food for dinner one night, and then we told them we wanted to wake up to the sounds of birds singing in the morning. ‘Of course, Mr. Scott,’ they said without flinching. And sure enough, we had the best gnocchi I’ve ever had, home cooked by one of their chefs, and they piped in some beautiful bird sounds over the speaker system the following morning.”

“Gnocchi sounds good,” Emi says. “I like yours, though, Jacks.”

“Give them a list of ingredients,” Jon says, “and you can cook it in your own suite.”

“Maybe another night,” I suggest. “I’m a little worn out today.”

“Perfect,” she says. “I could use a nap, too.” She weaves her fingers between mine and squeezes my hand in hers. I glance at her only briefly, kissing her forehead to agree with her silent suggestion. I love her so much, as much as I did the day I married her nearly twenty-three years ago.

Jackson, Emi and I spend the following morning and afternoon sight-seeing and shopping. Every time we come to Brazil, there are new things to see–especially where Livvy is concerned. Her involvement in their vast street art project has helped to revitalize many of their older communities. Her schedule has been to plan, create, and implement a new project every three months. The other two sites that we visited today had taken us to two neighboring cities. It’s nice to see more of the country, and to see how my daughter has weaved her sensibilities and creativity into their culture astounds me.

Her work was always beautiful to me, but seeing how careful she is in design and concept to make sure her artwork suits the neighborhoods she contributes art to makes me realize how intuitive and intelligent she truly is. There were times today that the same realization brought proud tears to Emi’s eyes. While I held my wife close, reveling in those same emotions, I was able to hide from her my own tears. I missed having Livvy in New York. Jackson caught me swiping my eyes once. Although he rolled his eyes at me in mockery, I wasn’t ashamed that my son saw it. I’ve always tried to instill in him that it’s okay to be vulnerable at times. At fifteen, he was beginning to pull away and assert his independence, but he was still very respectful of the boundaries we’d set for him. Every day, he did something that made me feel like we’d done a good job of raising him. I truly feel like he’ll be just as successful as Livvy in whatever life pursuit he chooses. While Livvy had known from a young age what she wanted to do with her life, our son’s interests span from sports to music to creative writing. He’s good at nearly everything he’s tried to do, so he has plenty of options, and just as Emi and I think we’ve identified which direction he’ll go in life, he surprises us with some new talent that once again catches us off guard.

Livvy and Jon have become local celebrities in the areas in and around Florianópolis, although in stark contrast to their earlier notoriety in Manhattan, the Brazilians aren’t fascinated by their every kiss, embrace or fight. Livvy’s artwork helps brighten the communities on which she chooses to focus. Many of her paintings have become local landmarks that tourists travel the world to see. She likes the attention, because she knows that so many of the people who visit Floripa are only there for the artwork. Although everyone in America came to know that Olivia Choisie was actually Livvy Holland, my daughter, most people who came to Brazil neither knew nor cared about me. Jack Holland wasn’t a name most had ever heard before.

While Livvy’s impact has been very visual, Jon’s work has taken him behind the scenes. He has been heavily involved in sustainable urban planning projects at the start-up architecture firm that hired him away from the company to which he’d become indispensable when he was at Columbia. His work has impacted multiple large cities in Brazil, and he and his firm had garnered worldwide praise for their careful concepts of environments and infrastructure. He’d even won awards for a few of his designs, and in the four years that he’s been here, he’s become a senior partner of the firm that has quadrupled in size since he came on board. Like he promised me when he was in college, he has provided a good life for my daughter. His more than adequate income has allowed her to work with cities who couldn’t invest in expensive revitalization efforts. A few of her projects have been pro-bono, and with each location she picks, she manages to get Jon involved in some way. The cities greatly benefit from what they do, and the people of Brazil aren’t afraid to show their appreciation.

No longer did my daughter and her fiancé feel the need to hide from passers-by under their alumni caps or hooded sweatshirts. They faced everyone with grace and poise, presenting a unified front anywhere they went. They truly remind me of myself and Emi.

“Jacks, where’s your tie?” Emi asks from the adjoining room.

“It was hanging in the closet,” I tell her as I check my watch. “I guess it’s about that time, isn’t it? Wow,” I say as I take in the sight of her in a beautiful dress that matches her eyes.

“Do I look okay?”

“No, you don’t look okay. You look extraordinary.” She smiles at my response, ducking into the closet momentarily and producing my tie.

“I think this is the dressiest we’ve ever been for a birthday party. I wish I had remembered to take a picture of Trey before Jon picked him up. He looked so handsome in his tux.”

“I’m sure we’ll get plenty of pictures tonight,” I assure her, letting her put the necktie on for me. When she finishes the knot, I lean down to kiss her.

“You look handsome, too,” she whispers, breathless, running her hands through my hair. I kiss her once more in appreciation.

“You ready?”

“Ready. Where’s this place?”

“Hotel Unique. The front desk said it’s about ten minutes away,” I tell her, holding the invitation and checking the route. She picks up her purse and the present we’d bought for Livvy and slides her palm against mine, linking fingers.

The town car is waiting for us, and the driver confirms our location before I even have a chance to tell him where we’re off to. The service here has been stellar.

Emi’s phone rings as soon as we pull away from our hotel. Recognizing Jon’s ringtone, she hurries to answer it. “We’re on our way,” she says after putting him on speakerphone.

“Perfect,” he says. “I was thinking... why don’t you two head up to our hotel room and have a little private moment with Olivia? She was saying all day how much she missed you two and wished she could spend her birthday with you. I think she might be a little emotional when she sees you. Plus, it’ll give me a little extra time to corral everyone in the party room. Clara says Jen and Bryan are running a little late.”

“I can’t wait to see her,” I say.

“When you get to the hotel, just go up the elevator on your right to the top floor. Our room is the suite on the left.”

“Thank you, Jon,” Emi says, sounding relieved and excited. “We’ll see you soon.”

A few minutes later, we’re pulling up to the hotel, which definitely lives up to its name. A man greets us as soon as we get out of the car.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

“Right this way.” He leads us to the elevator Jon had instructed us to use and accompanies us to the top floor. After we exit the space, he gestures toward the room on the left and steps back into the elevator before the doors close.

Emi wastes no time. The door is cracked, but we knock anyway.

“Come in!” I hear Livvy say. I push the door open for my wife, anxious to surprise our daughter. Emi stops walking three steps in, dropping the present she was holding and gasping. I lean over to get the gift, and see Livvy standing in front of the wall of windows, her back to us. The sunlight streams past her, highlighting the full gown she’s wearing. It looks like she’s emerging from soft clouds. Her long hair is pulled up, held in place by pins and small blue flowers.

I prod Emi forward, anxious for Livvy to realize we’re here. “Contessa?”

“Yeah, Daddy?” she asks, her voice altered by a catch in her throat. She finally turns around, her smile even brighter than the white dress she’s wearing.

It’s a wedding dress.

Emi rushes to her while I stand, unable to move, staring at the beauty that faces me. Livvy hugs her mother tightly, her eyes watering and glistening and watching me intently.

“Surprise,” Livvy whispers softly.

“What is this?” I ask, still confused, still frozen as my heart aches in my chest.

“Jon and I are getting married tonight,” she says, unable to hold back her emotions any longer. Always the first to comfort her, I’m compelled to hold her in my arms. She meets me halfway across the room, arms stretched and waiting for the embrace. “Oh, Daddy,” she sighs.

When I close my eyes, a tear drops quickly from each of them. I don’t ever want to let her go, realizing that it’s now time. I hear Emi sniffling, and open my eyes tentatively to try to read her expression. I’m overwhelmed, and things don’t typically overwhelm me. Emi, on the other hand...

Seeing her crying in front of the window, I release Livvy with one arm to wave Emi toward me. I hear a click to my right, and realize she was standing back while a photographer captured this moment with my daughter.

“You’re what?” I ask, still astounded, letting her go. She pulls the handkerchief from my jacket pocket and wipes her eyes carefully with it. Emi joins us, running her hand up and down Livvy’s bare arm.

“Will you walk me down the aisle, Dad?”

“The surprise is on us,” Emi says, obviously just as taken aback as I am. “Honey, you look so beautiful.” My wife breaks down, and Livvy wipes the tears away for her.

“You guys can’t cry!” Livvy says. “They spent an hour making me look like this, and this ceremony’s supposed to happen in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” I ask. “We only have fifteen minutes?”

“Yeah.”

“Fifteen minutes to hear, get used to, and accept the fact that you’re... that you’re...” I’m at a complete loss for words.
That you’re leaving us forever. That you’re all grown up now. That you don’t need us anymore.
I put my hand over my heart. “...that you’re the most exquisite sight I’ve seen since my own bride met me at the end of an aisle... and began her life with me.”

“Daddy,” she coughs out, more tears coming from both of us. She hugs me again. I never want to let her go. I try to hide my emotions from her, but the second I sniff back the tears, Livvy stills. “Daddy, don’t,” she says, her voice little more than a squeak as she begins to cry. I realize I have to hold it together for her. I do my best to wipe away the evidence before pulling away.