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After I end my stretch with a satisfied sigh, I ask, “What’s on your mind?”
Quietly, she replies, “I don’t know how to thankyou.” Her shoulders lift and she shakes her head, sending slight ripples through her sleep-mussed hair. “How—how can I possibly thank you for being the greatest man in the world?”
As awesome as those words are, I actually don’t read the slightest bit into them. I only recognize this for what it is: her being grateful to me for stepping into the darkness with her instead of abandoning her to it.
Quietly, too, I tell her, “You can’t thank me for caring about you.”
“I have to.”
“You really don’t.” I reach out and fix where a sleeve of her t-shirt is flipped up, then flash her a small smile. “I like being the greatest man in the world to you, though.”
She gives the smile back to me. Then she glances over where her fingertips skated across the front of my shirt before, and the softening of her expression almost feels like a new touch.
When she meets my eyes again, she asks, “Well, can I make you breakfast?” A slow kind of chuckle leaves her, like she’s not awake enough to laugh properly yet. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you eat canned biscuits.”
I happily accept her offer. And as we head to the kitchen to see if she’s got enough food or if I need to run to my place, I make a bet with myself that I can get a full laugh out of her before Rae is even awake.
*
“All right, man,” I say to Robbie as he gets up from his barstool. “Have fun! And, seriously, don’t worry about your shoe.”
He dropped by my job a little bit ago to catch up and have a Guinness before his first date with a girl who accidentally hit him with her car the other day (I thought he was joking, but no—they apparently clicked while she was frantically checking that he wasn’t hurt, which he wasn’t). And as he sat down at the bar, he told me he’d just realized there’s a hole in one of his shoes and he feels like a dumbass about it. I tried to tell him it’s no big deal, but I guess he likes her a lot, because it took me admitting that I like a girl a lot, too, for him to forget about his embarrassment.
He’s remembered it now, though, thanks to me. The annoyed look on his face makes me laugh.
“Asshole,” he laughs, too. “I hadn’t been thinking about it, butnow….”
“She’s not going to care,” I assure him. “Well, she might, but if she does, she’s got no sense of humor.” After a thought, “Or, like, humanity. Who the Rapunzel has never had a hole in their shoe?”
He looks at me quizzically. “Who the what?”
I consider what I said and burst into new laughter. “Oh! Rae said that this morning:‘Who the Rapunzel tookTangledout of the DVD player?’”
It’d been me. Liv and I turned on10 Things I Hate About Youlast night because it’s one of the few not-kid movies she owns. She told me it was the first movie she bought herself after she got her own place.
“Well,” Robbie sighs, “I don’t know whatTangledis, but I’m glad you’re having fun with those two.” He reaches a fist across the bar. “Good to see you, brother. Good luck with Liv. She sounds kick-ass.”
You got no idea.
As I bump his fist with mine, I say, “Yeah, thanks, and thanks for stopping by. Again, just go have a good time.”
Chuckling, he admits, “All right, you talked me into it.”
I check the clock after he’s gone: not even an hour left of my shift. Awesome.
It’s been a pretty good day except for how thoughts of last night keep creeping into my head. I’m still working on processing everything Liv told me, still trying not to get so worked up that I want to do something about it. It’s hard as hell because I don’t want to imagine such torment being inflicted on that amazing girl, but sometimes it happens before I can stop it, and itpisses me off.I’ve caught myself glowering and slamming things around too hard because I was picturing a small, aggrieved Liv-Andria begging her trash-ass mom to do something about the sick motherf—
—see, there I go again.
At some point, I’m going to sit down by myself and cry or punch a pillow or play out my revenge in the safety of my mind—whatever I have to do, but it can’t happen right now. So, as I’ve had to do all day in order to calm down, I think about grown-up Liv. The Liv who isn’t carrying that weight around by herself. The Liv I got a loud laugh out of this morning when I asked what a frog’s favorite hot beverage is and then told her, “Hot croak-o.”
And that, by the way,didhappen before Rae woke up.
I think about the two of them agreeing to dinner at my house again tonight. And them promising to think up what we can all do together tomorrow. And them asking if I want to tag along on Monday when Rae gets her stitches out, since I’m not as easy to gross out as Liv.
Yeah, these things cheer me right up.
My newest bartender, purple-haired Odette, approaches me from the other side of the bar.
