Tell him you can’t stop thinking about last night. You’ll totally get his attention.”
“Why don’t I send him some nude photos while I’m at it?”
“That would definitely get his attention.”
I sigh. “My dad was probably a jerk, taking it out on Arlo that I haven’t responded to any of his messages.”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“My Dad? Eventually. I’m going to meet with Diane, my mom’s best friend, in the morning. I’m hoping she’ll at least tell me something about Ellen.”
“Are you going alone?”
“Yeah. I’m not ready to tell everyone about it, yet.”
“Let me know how it goes, okay?”
“I will. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
We both hang up after Rose makes me say goodnight to Juliet and promises to be safe if she invites anyone over.
I still have a smirk on my face from our call as I send a text to Arlo.
Me: I saw at least a dozen belt buckles bigger than my fist today. True sign of being back in Texas.
Me: I hope you had a good first day of spring break. Thanks again for driving me to the airport.
I set my phone down beside me, making the ringer go as loud as possible in case he responds later after I’ve fallen asleep, and close my eyes.
I roll over and try to bury my head under my pillow when my alarm sounds. Last night was anything but restful. I’d woken up half a dozen times to check my phone, only to discover Arlo didn’t respond.
I’m cranky and tired and feeling agitated as I get ready to go to Diane’s.
“Good morning, Olivia,” Carrie greets me as I enter the kitchen. “Did you want me to drive you to Diane’s?”
I shake my head. “I figured I’d just walk.”
“Are you sure? It’s going to be a hot one today.”
I nod. “I’ve missed the heat.”
Carrie looks at me, her smile tight as she lifts her coffee cup. I know she feels sorry for me—she’s told me so no less than a hundred times in the years since my mom’s accident. Sometimes I wish she’d stop because her sympathy only reminds me of what I’ve lost. “Well, give me a call if you want us to come and pick you up.”
I nod absently and then head outside, the morning air already warm and humid. Bluebells are springing up, and I stop to take a picture of them that I send to Arlo. I’m still trying not to compare his absence to Matt’s, but as the hours have stretched, it’s becoming increasingly difficult. I don’t expect a novel or play by play of his day, but an observance doesn’t feel like too much. It’s times like these that I regret not having been raised by two parents—my grasp and understanding of what a healthy relationship consists of is completely reliant on movies and books and friends.
I regret the thought almost immediately. My mom may not have been married, but she taught me about respect and love and value and was there to support me through each and every one of Matt and mine’s disagreements and breakups. She didn’t meddle—that was never like her, but she was quick to remind me that it was important to feel safe and cared for and respected. My mom was enough—had always been enough.
My chest feels heavy as I continue, stepping over the lines in the sidewalk like I did as a child when navigating these streets. Diane lives in a subdivision next to Sophia’s, which made this a common walk for me as I got a bit older.
I climb the brick steps of Diane’s house before I feel ready. My heart’s thumping, and my throat feels tight with emotions like it does with every visit, but this time, it’s worse as I wield my arsenal of questions and ring the doorbell.
36
Olivia
Diane swings the door open. Her light brown hair is pulled back into a long braid, and she’s wearing jeans and a light sweater, though I’ve started to perspire from the heat. Years ago, I’d probably have a light coat on.
Diane doesn’t say anything as her eyes jog across my face and then wraps her arms around me, holding me so tight it’s uncomfortable. I don’t object. Instead, I relax into her embrace, just as desperate for the contact.
“God, I’ve missed you.” Her voice is garbled with tears as her fingers rake through the ends of my hair. She slowly pulls back, keeping her hands securely on the tops of my arms. “Come on in.”