“That’s disgusting.”
“Bill, come on. She’s your friend, don’t call her disgusting.”
“Let’s be honest Liv, she’s a little slutty. And one day it’s going to catch up with her.”
He was pushing me into an argument, but I set my jaw and let it slide. I had no problem with Gretchen enjoying her freedom, and I knew one day she’d meet a great guy who wouldn’t care about that either.
“Anyway,” he continued, “the chef may not last, but I never thought I stood a chance with you.” He took a sip of his coffee.
“Oh, please,” I said with a shy smile.
“It’s true. I thought you were way out of my league. Guess I got lucky,” he said, winking.
“Bill, you’re making me blush.”
“All right. How do you feel about an omelet this morning?” he asked, brandishing a pan.
“Sounds amazing.”
~
Later that afternoon, I started when my cell phone hit me in the leg.
“What? Where’d you get this?” I asked, retrieving it from the end of the couch.
“Your purse.” I hadn’t even seen him get up, but my purse was in the kitchen. I quickly escalated from confusion to panic when I remembered last night’s texts. Had I deleted them? Nothing is even going on, I thought as my heart raced. Nothing is going on. I’ll just tell him -
“You should call Leanore.”
I blinked. Relief flooded over me as tension melted me back into the couch. I pulled a pillow over my face and asked myself, “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“You can’t ignore your own mother on her birthday.”
“I’m not ignoring her,” I said defensively. “And why don’t you call her if it’s so important?”
“Liv. Call her,” he repeated.
I reluctantly pulled up her number and hesitated a moment. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just wish her a happy birthday. Tell her you love her. Tell her you miss her.” I made a face.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” she said cheerily.
“Hi, Mom.” There was a pause on the line. “Mom?”
“Olivia?”
“Yes, unless you have some secret daughter I don’t know about. Are you there?”
“Yes, yes. How are you, Olivia?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I just called to wish you a happy birthday.”
“I didn’t think I would hear from you. It’s been months.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that. How are you?”
“I’m well. I keep trying to get in touch with your father. I could use some cash, but he won’t take my calls.”
“Mom, he doesn’t owe you alimony anymore, you know that,” I said, half rolling my eyes at Bill.
> “I know, but I don’t understand why he can’t just help me out.”
“You know why, mom. Don’t play the victim. Anyway, he has just finalized his divorce with Gina, so he has his hands full.”
“That’s what she gets for breaking up a marriage,” she muttered for maybe the millionth time. She didn’t break up a marriage, I thought. You did.
“How’s the book coming?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“All right.”
“Care to tell me about it?”
“It’s not there yet.”
“I see. You’re keeping busy though?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, I just want to be sure that you’re not . . . bored.”
“Olivia, please stop insinuating things.”
I sighed. “I’m not, Mom. You sound well.”
“How’s Bill?” she asked with a lightened tone.
“He’s working a lot, but he’s good,” I said, looking over at him again. He was engrossed with something on his phone. “He says ‘hello.’”
“Good boy. He works hard so he can take care of you. You got lucky with that one.”
I pursed my lips at the backhanded compliment. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
“I should get going. I’ve had a long weekend. Thank you for calling, and give Bill my love.”
“All right. Happy birthday.” I hit ‘End’ and sighed. When I looked up, Bill was watching me.
“That was pitiful,” he said.
“You know how she can be.”
“I know how you both can be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that this way that you are, you learned it from her. When it comes to you and your dad, she’s cold even if she doesn’t mean it.”
“I am not like her. She’s never been good at expressing herself, it’s always been one extreme or the other: great indifference or irrational madness. I don’t know how to make her happy.”
“It sounds like she hasn’t been happy since you guys left. Maybe she wants you to come back.”