CHAPTER 12
May 5, 2012 8:43 PM
Why the cold shoulder?
May 5, 2012 8:45 PM
I’m not sure what you mean.
“Here, Livs,” Bethany said, pouring me another glass of wine.
“Thanks,” I muttered. My phone vibrated immediately.
May 5, 2012 8:46 PM
You do, don’t be coy.
How are you getting home?
May 5, 2012 8:46 PM
Why?
I didn’t know where to look while I waited. I wished I’d sat on the other side of the table, and knew Gretchen was likely wishing the same thing. Would it be obvious if we switched spots? I took a long sip of wine.
May 5, 2012 8:48 PM
You’re drunk.
How did he know? I was beginning to notice an uncanny talent for reading women.
May 5, 2012 8:48 PM
So?
May 5, 2012 8:50 PM
I’ll come over there & ask in front of everyone. How’re you getting home?
May 5, 2012 8:52 PM
Thought I’d hitch a ride with legs over there.
May 5, 2012 8:53 PM
Very cute. I’m coming over.
May 5, 2012 8:53 PM
No!
I scurried to type a response, taking only a second to shoot a harried glance in his direction.
May 5, 2012 8:54 PM
I walked w Lucy. Why’s it matter?
May 5, 2012 8:55 PM
You know it does.
I was feeling bolder by the sip.
May 5, 2012 8:57 PM
I haven’t heard from you.
May 5, 2012 8:59 PM
I’ve been out of town.
I didn’t see how that mattered. I unfastened my purse to put the phone away, but it pinged before I could.
May 5, 2012 9:00 PM
& you told me not to call.
May 5, 2012 9:01 PM
I meant my cell.
May 5, 2012 9:01 PM
Same for texting? ;)
I typed a brusque ‘yes’ and put my phone away, deciding that the conversation was over. Just then, Jeff the chef approached, and we quietly applauded.
“Thank you,” he said with a bow. “How is everything, Gretchen?”
She tossed her hair and purred, “Delicious, Jeff.”
He reddened instantly. “Great. I’m sending over a special dessert just for my table.” He eyed Gretchen as he spoke. “Can’t stay though. Good evening, ladies,” he called, already heading back to the kitchen.
As I watched him walk away, my eyes fell on David. Maria gestured as she talked to him, but he didn’t appear to be listening. He was looking at me. Arnaud, however, was enthralled, despite the fact that she was clearly ignoring him. I turned away and tried to concentrate on the conversation at my table. When I looked over again, his seat was empty.
~
I swayed woozily with a red wine head rush. As everyone stood from the table, I risked one more look at David’s table. He had returned and was talking heatedly with Arnaud. Bethany, Ava and Gretchen decided to move over to the bar to wait for Jeff while Lucy and I said our good-byes.
I checked my watch and was surprised to find it so late. The restaurant had cleared out considerably, but we’d barely noticed. We put on our jackets and stepped out into the fresh air. A yellow cab waited at the curb and the driver, who had been leaning against the car, approached us to offer a ride.
“We probably should,” I said.
“Hell yeah,” Lucy agreed. “My feet are killing me.” We clambered into the car and rolled down the windows to ease our drunken states.
“There’ll be two stops,” I told the driver, giving him the addresses.
“I think I could’ve stayed for another drink, but I couldn’t handle Bethany’s voice another minute,” Lucy said with a giggle. It was unlike her to say anything unkind and I poked her in the rib. “What? It’s so shrill!”
“It is a little, yeah,” I agreed, sticking my hand out the window. “Tonight was fun,” I mused.
“Hey, is everything all right with Bill?”
I snapped to attention. “What? Yes, why?”
“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “It seemed a little tense when I was over earlier.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, everything is fine. We had an argument yesterday. I’m surprised you noticed. Sorry if it was uncomfortable.”
“Oh no! It wasn’t, I just thought something felt off. What was it about?”
“Hmm?”
“The argument.”
“Ah . . . Nothing really. Just the house hunting stuff. It’s so stressful. I’m sure you guys will have to go through it soon though,” I said, poking her again.
“I don’t know, we love our apartment.”
“If you ever want to have kids though . . .” I let the sentence trail off.
Her eyes widened. “Are you guys . . . ?”
“No, no,” I said quickly, looking back out the window. “Bill just wants the space and well, you never know I guess.”
“That would be so exciting,” I heard, but she sounded miles away.
“Please, Luce,” I begged, “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Oh. Sorry. Gretchen says tomorrow is your mother’s birthday,” she said thoughtfully.
I rolled my head to face her and sighed. “So?”
“Are you going to call her?”
I pursed my lips. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You should, Livs. I’m sure she’d like that.”
When I didn’t respond, she scooted over, wrapped her arms around me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you next week, yeah?” I looked up and realized we were approaching her building.
“Sure,” I said, giving her a smile. “I can’t wait to see my bridesmaid dress.”
I refused her money and told her she could get the next one. I watched as she climbed the steps and disappeared through the doors. When we pulled away, I took out my phone and read a text from earlier.
May 5, 2012 9:09 PM
Btw… killin me in that gold dress, honeybee.
My insides tightened. I should’ve been indignant at the brazen comment, but the thought of him ogling me sent my mind into a tailspin. I stared at the text almost the whole way home until, with a swipe of my finger, I deleted the entire conversation.
“No charge this evening,” said the cabby as he pulled up to the curb.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“No charge.” He smiled into the rearview mirror.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why not?” I asked.
His face fell, and his eyes darted away. “No charge, ma’am. Thank you. Good evening.”
“Well, at least let me tip you,” I said, looking back into my purse.
“No, ma’am. No, thank you. It’s all taken care of.”
I gaped at him. Refusing a tip? What? “All right,” I conceded finally. “Goodnight.”
I exited the cab and watched him drive off, wondering which institution he’d just escaped from. Then I remembered my conversation with David. He had orchestrated this. He didn’t want me walking home. How had he known I would take the ride? Did he think he knew me so well? I bristled at the thought.
~
I sighed heavily, stretching out my legs. The wine had put me into a mini coma, and I woke groggily. Bill’s hand reached out and pulled me closer, sliding over my front. I felt him against my backside and panicked. He hadn’t attempted sex since New York, when I’d been on my period. It meant we hadn’t slept together since the night I first saw David. There he was again, infiltrating my thoughts, when I should be focusing on Bill. I felt his face in my neck, and his mouth on my jawbone.
“Bill,” I said quietly. “I can’t, I’m so hungover.” And it was the truth. A wave of nausea rippled through me, and I sat up. Bill flopped over and sighed, making no secret of his dissatisfaction. I headed to the bathroom to wash my face, letting the warm water momentarily soothe me. When I came out, he was gone, and I was greeted with the comforting smell of brewing coffee.
“How was last night?” he asked, unfazed by my earlier rejection.
“Nice,” I said, climbing onto a barstool. “Spirits were high, and the food was yummy.”
“And the head chef?”
“Seems really sweet. Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance against Gretchen, though.”
He laughed. “How does she do it? She’s a pretty girl but damn, I wouldn’t touch her.”
“Why not?”
“She’s always dating someone new, who knows how many guys she’s slept with? Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”
“Babe, she doesn’t sleep with all the guys she goes out with, and if she did, who cares? That doesn’t make her a bad person.”
“I’m just saying, it would be a deal breaker for me.”
“So if you’d found out I had a reputation, you never would have gone out with me?”
“Probably not. I don’t want to know that half of Chicago has seen my wife naked. I’m not going to find that out am I?” he teased, grimacing.
“No.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Why should my history have anything to do with the way Bill feels about me?
“Not only that, but she’s sometimes dating two guys at once.”
“That’s not that unusual when you’re single.”
“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.”
I shook my head. “When my dad and I left, it just gave her an excuse to be unhappy. And something to crucify us for.”
“Well, that’s understandable, don’t you think?”
I was silent. Was it? She’d left us no choice, but Bill couldn’t understand that. “Does that mean you think I’m cold?”
“Sometimes, yeah,” he said thoughtfully, touching his chin.
“Oh.” It wasn’t an entirely unfair assessment, but it was nonetheless painful to hear out loud. I didn’t mean to be cold.
“You blame her for the divorce, and she knows it.”
“You’re being a little harsh.”
“Sorry, babe. I just hate that you guys fight. I want you to be happy.”
“I am. And we don’t fight. But maybe that’s the problem,” I admitted.
He didn’t speak for a beat. “Could you tell if she was drinking? On the phone?”
“No, but I don’t think so.”
“You know we can send her some money.”
“Dad doesn’t think we should. I believe the word he used was ‘enabling.’”
“Liv, she’s fifty-something. She’s not going to change.”
“She could change, but not until she admits that there’s a problem.”
“Well maybe there isn’t. As far as we know she only overdrinks once in a while. I don’t think that makes her an alcoholic.”
“I don’t know Bill, maybe - ”
“You’re too hard on her. So she’s not a perfect mother. Who is? Don’t make something out of nothing.”
I nodded, not wanting to start another fight, but I couldn’t help but feel annoyed. I always did when we discussed my mother. He took her side every time, and I wanted to yell that at him, but it wasn’t even worth bringing up again.
There were things he didn’t understand about our relationship, things that nobody ever could. Except maybe John and Gretchen, who had stood by me through the divorce and everything that came after.
So why didn’t he try to see things from my point of view? I looked over at him as he flipped through his book, trying to find where he’d left off. How I could make him see that I wasn’t always the bad guy? If I tried to get him to understand, and he didn’t . . . would that mean he was right? That I was to blame?
I opened my mouth to tell him why my relationship with my mom was strained. To explain how it had felt to live through the divorce of my parents knowing that she cared more about losing my dad than me.
Don’t make something out of nothing. Maybe I was. Maybe it was overdramatic. I decided to drop it rather than risk the chance of an argument. “I’m going to take a nap,” I said, popping up. “Whoa.” I steadied myself on the armrest and groaned as Bill laughed.
“All right. Go sleep it off, champ.”
~
I woke up later in a daze, confused by the setting sun and the warmth of a heavy blanket draped over me. “Bill,” I called from the bed. Silence.
I closed my eyes again, ready to give in to a second round, when he responded from the doorway. I opened my eyes and reached my arms out from under the blanket, feeling more amorous than before. He climbed in next to me, tented the blanket and kissed my naked shoulder.
“Do you still think I’m cold?” I whispered, looking up at him.
“No,” he replied, rubbing a smooth cheek against me. I lazily pulled him on top of me and ran the soles of my feet over his long calves. The inside of his mouth was hot and soft, and when he pulled away, I almost pulled him back. Instead, I told him to get a condom, promising it would be our last.
We made love under that too-hot blanket, sweating and groaning into each other. After a second time, we lay panting on the bed until I heard my phone faintly singing from the couch.
“Birth control.” I swung my feet over the side of the bed and went to leave, when Bill caught my forearm. I turned to meet eyes that were asking me to stay. The moment stretched as we stared at each other in the almost-dark that was punctuated by the recurring chimes of the daily alarm. I bit my lip in consideration. Slowly, I slid my arm through his hand and left to take the pill.