Page 57 of Liquids

Rig nods. “I saw that in the photo. The way you were holding him …”

My throat tightens unbearably, and I stare out of the window. A triangle of blue sky is visible between the clouds. “Different kind of love,” I say through the knot in my throat.

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. And somehow, asking him about what Agnes and Marge said when he’s right in front of me feels almost impossible. I like seeing him all happy and relaxed, and I don’t want to spoil it. But I clear my throat, nonetheless.

“A little bird told me that Sadie tried to trap you.” It sounds almost silly when I say it out loud.

He scowls. “Yeah.” He blows out a long breath. “Said she was pregnant. Don’t understand why she thought I wouldn’t find out about that lie eventually.”

I swallow. “When she came to visit me, she said you told every woman about the house on the beach and did all this stuff for them and … all the women you’ve been with get the same treatment …”

He’s scowling ferociously now. “That’s bullshit.” He wipes his hands on the dish towel. “Her dad threw her out because she’s a train wreck and she did a ton of goddamn crazy shit, but that’s a whole other fucking story I’m not getting into. But she had nowhere to go, and she tried to worm her way into my mom’s place, then my fuckin’ trailer, so I helped her get a lease on an apartment. Big mistake. And, babe, she knows about my dream of a beach house because everyone knows about my fuckin’ beach house dream. Dave fucking knows about it.” He runs his hands up his face and through his mop of hair. “I knew she was playing me with that apartment, but she was stuck, or so she said. Now I look back on it a bit different. And the pregnancy thing? She faked a test. Pulled it out of her bag. Don’t know how she did it. Didn’t know it was fake at the time, so I told her we should get married. She was over the goddamn moon, and now she’s bitter as all fuck. What did she think would happen when I found out the truth?” He takes another huge bite of his sandwich and chews. “And doing stuff for people? I fucking help people, babe.” He skewers me with a gaze. “That’s me. I do shit. I fix problems.”

Okay then.

Rig carries on chewing, watching my face, and he blows out a long breath. “I want to apologize, babe.”

“What?” Why is he apologizing now?

“I said some bullshit to you I really regret.”

“You’ve apologized for that. I know you weren’t looking for anything permanent. After Sadie, I’m not surprised.”

“No, I don’t mean that. I made other comments about you not expecting anything better, about being at the bottom of the heap, like you didn’t deserve more. I said you were fucked up.”

I laugh at this and sweep my hand around. “I am at the bottom of the heap, Rig. I live in a dump and I drink too much. You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.” I make a face. “I’ve got a terrible relationship with alcohol.”

Rig frowns at me.

“I’m an alcoholic.” It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that to anyone except myself, and I stare down at my sandwich.

But his chest moves in my peripheral vision, and when I look up at him, he’s got a strange expression on his face. “I don’t know, babe. You drink a lot and maybe you rely on it too much, and that’s a problem. But you went through something terrible and used alcohol to deal with it. I wouldn’t say you have any of the classic symptoms of an alcoholic: You don’t hide it, and you stop drinking for days on end and are more or less okay. But I’m not a doc and it’s clearly complicated. At worst, I’d say you use it as a prop, as a coping thing.” He scratches at the stubble on his jaw. “You’re pretty disciplined, babe, even when I first met you.”

“What?” He must be joking.

“You get up early and go to work every day. You look after people, day in, day out. You made a promise to your son not to draw or paint and didn’t do it, for ten fucking years … I don’t think you’re fucked up. Not now. I said those things before I knew you. I read you one way, and it wasn’t the right way. I said you were a good woman, but I didn’t know you were a great woman.”

This is how he sees me? “Have you been taking happy pills?”

He rubs his hands up and down his face. “Don’t do that, babe. You have this light inside you that touches everything and everyone around you. I didn’t see it until I got to know you better. You asked me why I was happy earlier; I was happy to see you. It’s a fuckin’ delight being with you.”

“Definitely happy pills.”

But something soft and warm is washing through me. I don’t think anyone has ever said anything so nice to me, or even said they enjoyed my company.

He sighs, and I hold up a hand. “I get it, okay? It’s nice you think like that about me.”

“Everyone thinks that about you.”

I think of the girls bitching about me in the bathroom.

“Well,” he amends, “apart from the assholes.”

He got that right.

“Did all the other women put you off? Did Sadie?” He adds, looking like this whole conversation is like pulling teeth for him. “I haven’t been interested in getting involved with anyone for a long time.”