“Holy shit,” I whispered to myself as I scanned the screen: salary, health benefits, and vacation time… “I am in the wrong line of work.” I looked up to find Cole staring at me. “What?” I asked. He raised his eyebrows in question. “No, I was joking.”
His face remained impassive.
“I already have a job.”That I hated.“And besides”—I pointed to the screen—“you couldn’t afford me.” I smiled and pushed myself off of the couch. “I have to start getting ready. Give CJ a kiss for me?”
"Sure. Wait, hold on," Cole said before jogging into the kitchen while I slipped on my shoes. He came back to the door holding a sugar-free ice pop. "One for the road."
“Thanks.” I took the pop from his hand, brushing his fingertips and feeling a tiny jolt of electricity. I told myself it must have been static electricity from the living room rug, but I wasn’t sure. Did belly fluttering accompany static shock?
I heard the door close softly behind me, and when I made it to the sidewalk, I looked up to see Cole standing in his living room window watching me. He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in a small wave. I smiled and returned the gesture feeling the belly fluttering intensify.
"Sasha,Sasha, Sasha. This is America. It is a free country, and you are entitled to your wrong opinion." Micaela, Sasha's girlfriend, was shouting to be heard over the lively argument that had erupted at our table.
“I am not wrong. Michael Keaton was the best Batman. It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.”
“Bullshit. Christian Bale did that. Okay? He. Did. That. Just because it was the first Batman movie you saw doesn’t make it the best one.”
"Exactly, you're proving my point. Michael Keaton saved Gotham City without CGI. And he didn't have to do a stupid growly voice."
“Hehadto do a voice. He's the most recognized man in the city. He's supposed to go walking around just chitchatting in his billionaire playboy voice dressed as Batman? Please. That's like Clark Kent with his glasses. Who the fuck does that man think he's fooling?"
“By that logic,” Max, a friend of Micaela’s, chimed in. “Adam West would be the best Batman. He didn’t have shit in the sixties besides shark repellant!”
The entire table erupted in laughter.
“I don’t know,” Nisha, who worked with us at Mama’s, mused. “I thought George Clooney did a good job.” She shrugged before looking around the table with her lips tucked between her teeth to hold back laughter.
The table was quiet for a second before erupting in a chorus of boos and flying napkins. Micaela yelled, “Bat nipples?!” and Sasha said, “Nisha, go sit in the corner and think about what you did.”
“Okay,” I shouted and slapped a palm on the table. “Best Catwoman?”
"Eartha Kitt!" the table chorused in near unison before Nisha said a half-second too late, "Halle Berry."
We had all burst into peals of laughter when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I was still laughing when I saw my ex-husband's name flash across the screen. A split-second wave of nausea hit me, and my heart thudded. We hadn't seen each other since the mediation, and my father did most of the talking in the meeting. That was nearly a year ago, and I couldn't imagine what he could possibly want.
“Hey, Lisa,” Sasha called from across the table. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” I held up my phone. “I just have to take this.”
I was greeted by a hot late summer breeze when I stepped out of the restaurant's air-conditioning and onto the sidewalk. I swiped the screen of my phone.
“Hey.” I paced the sidewalk with my heart thudding intensely.
"Hey, gumdrop." His deep Southern drawl rumbled through the phone, and though I was expecting it, I still felt my stomach drop and had to lean against the building for support.
“Don’t call me that,” was all I could say in reply.
“Sorry. Habit, you know.” He did sound sorry, but I knew him well enough to know that it had little to do with him using the pet name he’d been calling me since we were teenagers. “How are you? I heard you moved to New York.”
"I'm fine," I whispered before clearing my throat. "I'm fine. Why are you calling? Is everything okay? Are—" I stopped myself from calling his parents, Mom and Dad, and it made my heart clench to think of something else I'd lost in the divorce. "—your parents, okay?"
"Yeah, they're fine. Mom and Dad miss you. You should call them sometime."
I squeezed my eyes shut, and two fat tears rolled down both cheeks. My ex had some fucking nerve. Did he really call me out of the blue after cheating on me and divorcing me to give me a guilt trip about not calling his parents? Two people that I'd known more than half my life and loved almost as much as my own mother and father.
“You know I can’t do that, you asshole. What do you want? Did you call to tell me that your parents miss me? Well, I miss them too. Thank you. Can I go now?”
“I’m getting married,” he said in a half sigh, half groan.
