Thirty-five and Single

I’m angry and pissed off. I’m good enough to fuck but not to be anything more than just friends.

I’ve friend-zoned several women in the past few weeks on the off chance Olivia would realize what we could have together.

Yet here I am, my arms wrapped around her as if we were more than lovers.

My brothers would laugh at me and call me a romantic fool because I’d rather love one woman than fuck many.

Thinking about my family makes me think of my mother. She’s the best of us and I can’t imagine a world without her. I won’t allow myself to think the worst. I don’t have details, as my brother refused to tell me and she wouldn’t over the phone.

Olivia’s breathing evens out, shifting my focus. She’s goodness too. Sweet, sexy, and too damn frustrating. I ask myself again why I’m fighting so hard for a woman who is fighting against me. Am I waging battle in a war I’m destined to lose?

And why the hell now are all the women in my life giving me the blues?

The silence is so complete, I hear my phone vibrating in my jean’s pocket on the floor.

I ease out from around Olivia. I wait a second to make sure she doesn’t wake before grabbing my phone and my jeans. I walk out into the living room, already knowing who’s on the other end.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“Joel, where are you?”

“Home.” It isn’t as much of a lie as one would think.

“Really, because I’ve been knocking on your door.”

I close my eyes.

“Give me a minute.”

Quickly, I dress before exiting Olivia’s apartment. When the door opens, Calli turns to look at me from her position halfway down the hall.

There is judgment in her eyes, but she says nothing. Not at first.

I open my apartment door and it closes before Calli is all glares.

“Can’t keep your dick in your pants, can you?” she says.

I go to the kitchen and stash the tequila I’d grabbed on the way out. It isn’t because I don’t want Olivia to have it. Selfishly, I want her to call me if she wants to drink again.

“It’s none of your business,” I say to the woman before me.

“Really, because you claim to love me and our son.”

I scrub a hand over my face. I’m really not up for her mood swings. The use of the words our son is the guilt trap she lays on me when she wants something. But we both know what she says is false.

“I’ll always care about you, Calli, and wish you the best, but any love between us died years ago.”

She steps forward with a determination I know all too well.

“And if I said I’d share custody of Aaron with you but only if we were together, what would you say?”

“That’s not fair.”

I catch her hands before she can touch me.

“What’s not fair is raising a child on my own,” she complains.

“And you choose to do nothing about it.”

She pulls free and turns her back on me. She walks several paces before facing me again.

“I didn’t mean to get high,” she says.

I wait her out until she’s ready to say more.

“He doesn’t like that I’m clean. After you left that night I called you, he came. Said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he would hurt Aaron.”

My spine goes rigid. “Who is this he?”

I don’t own a gun, which is probably a good thing. I have the urge to kill this he.

Her eyes go soft and pleading before she speaks. “My dealer. He shot me up with that shit to get me hooked again.”

“Who is he?” I ask again, my voice projecting a danger I don’t normally set free.

“My stepfather.”

Curses rain in my head as I think about the stupid court system.

She holds up a hand as if to stop me from doing all the great and wonderful things I have planned for the asshole.

“He and Mom aren’t together. She kicked him out years ago.”

“But he knows where you live.”

She pauses. “It’s not like we’ve moved.”

“And you left Aaron there.”

I want to strangle her for her selfishness.

“He won’t hurt Aaron. It’s me he wants. If I could crash with you for a few days and get my shit together.”

It’s a very bad idea.

“Please, Joel. I promise I’m done with all that shit.” She pauses in dramatic effect. When she speaks again, she’s using that I’m innocent voice of hers. “Then maybe you can give me a job and I can get my own place for Aaron and me.”

I want to believe her, but she’s proven me wrong so many times I can’t count anymore.

“Please,” she begs again. “I’ll sleep on your sofa.”

I close my eyes, knowing I’m about to make a colossal mistake.

“No. Take the bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

This isn’t what I envisioned for the night. I flop on the sofa, already missing the warmth of Olivia’s bed. I dial up Calli’s mother to check on Aaron, uncaring of the time.