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I saw her in that long line for coffee. She was one of the few people there actually on her way to a job. Her Wild Chicks catering van was parked not far away.
Trent knows me well, and he guesses what’s on my mind. “You seen Danielle around lately, or what?”
“She was down on Market Street at the window. Man, that line gets long. Drives me crazy, just waiting.”
“You talk to her?”
“Yeah. Asked her to the wedding.”
“Aagh. If it happens,” Trent says with a groan. He reaches his hands up and rakes both through his hair, clawing at his scalp.
“Why won’t she call me back?”
“She’s mad, I guess. Or sad. Or whatever you talked to Olivia about last night.”
At that moment, the front office door swings open, and Olivia saunters in. She looks more bright-eyed than me and Trent, and she’s smiling.
She takes one look at the two of us and laughs.
“Yikes. It’s like walking under a big dark storm cloud, stepping in here. Can’t either of you smile once in a while?”
“Why should I smile?” Trent grumbles. “Maggie still hasn’t called me.”
“I know.” She walks over to his desk. “I just got off the phone with her a few minutes ago. Here, eat something for heaven’s sake.” She sets a wrapped foil package down on his desk, next to the one already there.
Trent points to the first. “Cole brought me one, too.”
She glances over at me, but not for long. I’ve never kept her attention. I’ve tried to talk to her over the years. Real, actual conversations, not just kid stuff like what channel to watch or whether there’s any lemonade in the fridge. She and Trent were raised by their grandparents, and I spent a ton of time over at that house from the time I was seventeen.
But whenever I tried to talk to her, she’d get to looking bored.
So, lately, I don’t try. Women like Olivia go for flashy guys, the sort with degrees, book smarts, and loud opinions.
Soon she’s back to fussing over her brother. She unwraps the foil around the sandwich so it’s like a plate under the greasyEnglish muffin, and then slides the whole bundle on top of his paperwork.
“Seriously, eat. You look like you’re about to faint. I need you to be in at least decent shape when you see her.”
“See her?” For the first time in days, Trent actually sits up straight. He reaches for the sandwich. “What do you mean?”
Then he digs in like he’s starving.
I’m sure he is. You can’t live on beer and mint Tic Tacs, even though he’s given that menu his best shot these past two days.
It’s probably a good thing Olivia’s home.
Though, that’s a hard truth to keep in mind when she plops down on my desk.
Right on top of it, with her back to me. Without even clearing a space. She always does this, too. And every time, I think how we should get at least one chair in this little closet-like office space. Olivia hangs out here a lot when she’s between trips, and even though her backside’s not bad to look at—not at all bad—it’s hard for me to get work done when she’s using my desk as bench seating.
“Hey, Olivia.”
She doesn’t even look back at me. Just gives that sassy response she always gives me when I say hello. “Hey, yourself.”
Hey yourself.
She’s said that to me probably ten thousand times over the years.
Would it kill her to give me a decent greeting? Say my name, maybe? Ask me how I’m doing?
