Page 102 of The Fall Classic

Gone.

***

It’s well past three—closing time—when I walk back over to the truck. Olivia’s already broken down most of it, which I would normally feel bad about, but I’m too numb to be helpful, and so I stand there and watch her move with a brisk, businesslike energy while she finishes.

“What else do you have going on tonight?” she asks, not looking up from the cash drawer.

“My father is coming back into town to have dinner with me and my stepfamily for his monthly visit,” I say emotionlessly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I think Marlowe sees it as her opportunity to try to convince my dad that we’re one big happy family and definitely worth sticking around for this time.”

She zips the cash bag shut, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Her hands keep moving, but they’re slow.

“I could come over,” she says. “Help you get ready. I don’t—” She stops herself and then starts again, but there’s something underneath her voice that almost sounds desperate. “I don’t have anywhere to be tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say automatically. “I’m fine. You don’t need to watch me try on six different outfits and debate which lipstick will annoy Marlowe the least.”

She looks at me askance. “You care more about not upsetting Marlowe than trying to impress your dad?”

“One of them has the capacity for real love and the other doesn’t. Not that she directs any of it toward me.” I shake my head, feeling hot and stupid about my oversharing. “Sorry. I’m not my best right now.”

“I know the feeling,” she says, her lips pulling to the side. “Georgie, I know you don’t need me to get ready, but helping you deal with your family trauma sounds a lot better than going home to an empty apartment to think about mine.”

I sniff. “Well, when you put it that way, I’d love the help. Thanks, Olivia.”

Something loosens in her shoulders and she smiles. “Call me Liv.”

***

My dad chose the earlier dinner time—six at The Black Oyster, the same restaurant Logan and I were at only a few nights ago.

“So is that a good thing that he chose the earlier time?” Liv asks as she gives me one last fit check before we both leave my apartment. She straightens a strap on my blue linen dress. We’re about the same height—five-six—and I’m positive we could exchange clothes, but I’m equally positive she could beat me in a foot race with her legs tied together.

I lock up, and we walk downstairs to the parking lot.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a good thing,” I tell her. “He probably had a conversation with some hospital CEO about how nothing matters more than family, and now he thinks he’s the living embodiment of that because he spends between two and eight days a month with his wife.”

Liv looks me over when we reach our run-down cars. “Well, hello, ma’am. I like seeing this side of you.”

“My dad has that effect on me,” I tell her, but she’s heard this already. She’s been hearing some version of it for the last two hours. I’ve tried to get her to open up, too, but she’s insisted this is my turn to trauma dump. She said she’ll take her turn later, but I’m worried she won’t.

Liv uses the key to unlock her beater car. “Don’t let them dictate your story.”

I click the key fob to unlock my Sentra. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for the help, Liv. I needed this.”

She smiles at me, her bangs parting just enough that I can see her eyes. “Me too.”

Twenty minutes later, the hostess at The Black Oyster is walking me past the patio where Logan and I almost ate the other night. I spare one glance for our table, where the string lights are already glowing against the dusk and where a different couple is sitting, and I look away before his absence can sting any worse.

The hostess takes me to the table with its crisp white tablecloth, where everyone is already seated, even though I’m not late. Lulabelle is coloring on a paper placemat with a maze, word search, and a unicorn, and she waves at me and points to the chair next to her. That will leave one chair between my dad and me.

Perfect.

“So glad you were able to join us,” Marlowe says, rubbing my dad’s shoulder territorially.

You can have him, I think.