Page 82 of Fighting the Pull


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I sat motionless, staring at him.

And then my heart tore into two at the same time my head exploded.

I snatched my phone off the table, rose from my chair and dashed out of the restaurant.

On the sidewalk, I called my brother.

“Hey, Elsa,” he answered.

“Youmiserable piece of human garbage,” I hissed. “I cannotbelieve you.”

“Hang on—”

“You should keep out of it. I can’t even imagine how your head works that you’re not. Instead, you’re representing your mother while she’s divorcingyour father.”

I felt Dad get close as Oskar started, “She needs—”

“What about what Dad needs, Oskar? Hmm? What about Dad?”

“He’s obtained excellent counsel.”

“You’re his son,” I reminded him.

“This doesn’t have to be acrimonious,” he rebuked.

Was he serious?

“She cheated on him for twenty years with his best friend!” I shouted.

“Elsa,” Dad whispered, crowding me and rubbing my back.

“That’s it,” I snapped into the phone. “We were never close, but if you do this to Dad, we’re done. I never want to see you again.”

“Listen—” Oskar tried.

I didn’t listen.

I hung up on him.

“Come inside. Sit down,” Dad urged.

“God, he’ssuchapiece of work,” I bit out.

“Come inside.”

I looked at him. “No. I have another call to make.”

“I’m asking you not to call your mother in this state,” Dad said in Dad Voice. “Come inside.”

We went inside.

What could I say? He’d used Dad Voice.

I’d barely sat down when Dad was hailing the server.

“Another glass of wine for my daughter,” he ordered.

“You betcha,” she replied, clearly not having missed the drama I just enacted, and she was off.

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