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“Well,” he says slowly, thoughtfully, “here’s how I see it: if she didn’t mean what she said, she really does trust you. If she trusts you after whatever bad shit she’s been through in her life, it means you’re special. And if you’re special to her, it’s damn likely she’s suffering as much as you are. So you should work on calming down and just settling in for the wait, ‘cause whether it lasts through tomorrow or through next month, I gotta believe she’ll come back. People get sick of the suffering at some point. And this kid she’s got with her…I’d be shocked out of my skin if Liv didn’t start kicking herself the minute she left you, because for all her talk of protecting the kid from harm, she sure did bring in the grief by cutting you off from them.”
I’ve thought that exact same thing these last several days.
I lower my hand from my eyes and look at him. “I think so, too.”
“Mmhmm. So like I said, just try to breathe your way through this. I don’t think she’ll stay gone for long.”
I don’t want to ask the question on my tongue, but it’s slicing me up like a razorblade. “And if she stays gone forever?”
His frown is sad and his words are honest: “Then she ain’t ready to heal and nothing can be done about it from your end. They say people can’t be helped if they don’t want to be, and that’s the truth.”
Fuck, I hate the idea of that. It makes every inch of me hurt more.
Dimly, I say, “Okay.”
He clasps his hands together and leans toward me, elbows on his knees. “Everyone has to take care of themselves before they can take care of other people, so work on doing that for you and let time reveal whether or not she’s doing it for herself. Won’t be easy and won’t be fun, but that’s life. Sorry to say it like that, man, but….”
“No, yeah, I—I get it.” I wince as my headache gives a particularly hellish throb, then add sincerely, “Thanks, Bill.”
“Anytime. You need anything else, you let me know. I may not always be able to talk in person, but I can talk on the phone.”
“Thanks,” I repeat. Then I squeeze my eyes shut, rub at my face, and groan, “Motherfucker, my head hurts.”
He laughs, and it both makes my pain worse and lightens the mood a little. “Oh, yeah, some advice about alcohol: don’t drink too much of it.”
For the first time in all these horrible days, I crack a smile. “Smartass.”
“There he is! You eaten breakfast yet, Captain Hangover?”
I manage a snort of mild amusement as I reopen my eyes. Thank God it’s not all that bright in the bar. “That’s cute.”
“The name?”
“No, you asking whether or not I’ve been able to handle food. I’m tore up from the floor up.”
He laughs again. “You look it, man. Come on. Let’s get you some aspirin and eggs before your shift starts.”
I groan at the thought of having to work.
Did this to myself, though, so…live and learn.
*
Even after aspirin and eggs, I dragged ass through my work shift. It sucked so, so bad, but I didn’t bitch out. I did what I had to do, and I did it more professionally than any other day this last week. Then I went home, ate a frozen pizza, and dropped into bed.
Now it’s Super Lonely Sunday. I feel better physically, and I feel stable enough emotionally to text Liv and ask about Rae’s dance. It’s in about two weeks, and I want to know what’s expected of me.
ME:Hi, Liv. I’ve been wanting to ask if I’m still taking Rae to the daddy/daughter dance. I’d still love to
There’s so much more I want to say.
More apologies for the things I said and did that last night. Words of how much I miss her and how I really would rather be her friend than be nothing to her. Pleas for her not to hate me.
I don’t want to overload her, though. I’ve done more than enough of that already.
So I do what Bill suggested: I just wait. I acknowledged some time ago that she was likely to freak out over the idea of being with me, but I felt sure she’d come back afterward because I make her—and Rae—happy. This is the part where I see just how long it takes her.
And while I do that, I text Shannon to ask if she has any volunteer work I can do today.
