Breathe, Leah.
I am trying to think of happy things, things my therapist gave me to focus on, but all I can hear are the words to a Nirvana song, echoing so loudly in my head I want to scream.
I scream into my pillow. I hate that. I’m a goddamn mess and there is nothing I can do about it. When my heart stops racing, I go downstairs and get a drink of water.
I am channel surfing a few hours later when I hear Olivia’s name. I flick past the channel and have to backtrack. Since Caleb’s been gone, I am desperate for any news on her. I know he’s watching. I pluck at my eyelashes and watch as Nancy Grace gives me an update on what’s happening in Dobson’s trial preparation. She’s on a tirade. I snicker. When is she not on a tirade? She moves on from Dobson and it takes me a few minutes to figure out that her sharp southern accent is directed at Olivia. I turn up the volume and lean forward. Yes! Olivia bashing! This is exactly what I need to feel better about myself.
I snuggle down in my seat to watch, a full glass of Scotch sweating in my hand. One corner of the screen is reeling footage of Dobson’s victims. They range in age and appearance, but they all have the same haunted look in their eyes. When a video clip of the ra**st comes on the screen, I scrunch my nose. He’s in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed and shackled. Officers wearing plain clothes surround him as he walks the short distance from the vehicle to the courthouse. He gives me the heebie-jeebies. He’s huge — linebacker size. The cop next to him looks puny. How this buffoon managed to get girls to come within five feet of him astounds me.
Suddenly, the screen flashes to Olivia. I want to change the channel, but as usual, I can’t pull my eyes from her. Nancy is waving her bejeweled hand in the air. Her voice is rising in crescendo and she’s told three people on her panel that they’re idiots for defending Olivia’s case. I reach over for a handful of popcorn, not taking my eyes from the screen. Nancy is right. I feel a sudden fondness for her. She obviously knows how to read people. Then I hear my name. I spit out my popcorn and lean forward.
She won a case a year ago, defending an heiress on clinical fraud charges. Nancy calls to someone on her panel. Did she win that case, Dave?
Dave gives a brief summary of my case and affirms that yes, indeed, Olivia did win the case.
Nancy is disgusted.
The evidence against that girl was overwhelming, she says, stabbing the desk with her finger.
I change the channel.
But, the following night, I turn it on again and watch all fifty-two minutes of blond fury. By night three, I’ve called into the show as a Ms. Lucy Knight from Missouri, and expressed my disgust with Olivia too. I make sure to tell her that I appreciate what she does for women, that’s she’s a goddamn hero. Nancy tearfully thanks me for being a fan.
By the end of her show, I am usually drunk. Sometimes Sam stays to watch it with me.
“She’s really pretty,” he says about Olivia. I spit an ice cube at him and he laughs. The baby is almost sleeping through the night now. I still sleep in her room, just in case she wakes up. Sam thinks I’m finally bonding with her, but I only do it so I don’t have to walk far in the middle of the night. Caleb is supposed to be back from his trip late the following day. He sent me a text saying he’d pick up Estella as soon as he got back. I plan a trip to the spa in the morning. If everything goes my way, he won’t be going anywhere.
“So, they were together in college?”
I look over to where Sam is sipping on his soda. “What the hell?”
“What?” He shrugs. “I feel like I’m watching a soap opera without all of the back-story.”
I sniff. “Yes, they were together for a few years in college. But, it wasn’t that serious. They never even slept together.”
Sam raises his eyebrows. “Caleb stuck around for a girl who wasn’t having sex with him?” He lets out a low whistle.
“What does that mean?” I curl my feet under my body and try not to look too interested. The lack of sex between Caleb and Olivia always confused me. I had wanted to ask questions on the rare occasion it came up, but never wanted to seem like the jealous girlfriend. Besides, Caleb protected his past like it was the goddamn crown jewels.
Sam looks thoughtful as he chews on a mouthful of beef jerky. He eats so much of the stuff I’ve come to associate the smell with him.
“Seems like a long time to ask a college-aged guy to wait. The only way I see someone doing that is if they are crazy in love … addiction love.”
“What do you mean addiction love?” Caleb has the most non-addictive personality I’ve ever seen. In fact, it bothers me. One year he will be a full-fledged skier and the next year when I book a trip to the lodge, he’ll tell me he’s not interested anymore. It happened countless times throughout our relationship — with restaurants, clothes … he even traded his car in every year. It almost always started with him loving something intensely and then gradually becoming bored with it.
“I don’t know,” Sam says. “I guess it sounds like he was willing to do anything for her … even if it meant going against what he was used to.”
“I hate you.”
He slaps my leg playfully and stands up. “Just trying to clear your head a little, Mommy monster. Seems like he’s your addiction and it’s not a healthy one.”
I glare after him as he heads for the door. He’s such a pompous ass.
“See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder. “When Mr. Perfect returns…”
But, the next day Sam calls to say he’s having car problems. I cancel the spa. I haven’t spent an entire day alone with the baby since Sam’s run with the flu. I eat a mini bag of frozen corn before going up to get her. For most of the day, I repeat everything I see Sam do. We have tummy time in the living room. I wipe her face after she’s done eating. I even splurge and take her for a mini walk in the stroller I have never used.
When I discover I'm out of diapers, I call Sam in a panic. He doesn’t answer, because no one is ever around when you really damn well need them! How am I supposed to take a baby to the store with me? There has to be some kind of service that runs errands for new mothers. After debating for more than an hour, I pack the baby in the car and head to the nearest grocery store. It takes me ten minutes to figure out how to load her car seat onto the cart. I swear under my breath, until a more seasoned mother comes over to help me. I thank her without meeting her eyes and steer my cart into the store just in time to miss the rain. The minute the cold air conditioning blows on the baby, she starts wailing. I push the cart haphazardly to the kid aisle and toss in five packages of diapers. Better safe than sorry.
I am trying to think of happy things, things my therapist gave me to focus on, but all I can hear are the words to a Nirvana song, echoing so loudly in my head I want to scream.
I scream into my pillow. I hate that. I’m a goddamn mess and there is nothing I can do about it. When my heart stops racing, I go downstairs and get a drink of water.
I am channel surfing a few hours later when I hear Olivia’s name. I flick past the channel and have to backtrack. Since Caleb’s been gone, I am desperate for any news on her. I know he’s watching. I pluck at my eyelashes and watch as Nancy Grace gives me an update on what’s happening in Dobson’s trial preparation. She’s on a tirade. I snicker. When is she not on a tirade? She moves on from Dobson and it takes me a few minutes to figure out that her sharp southern accent is directed at Olivia. I turn up the volume and lean forward. Yes! Olivia bashing! This is exactly what I need to feel better about myself.
I snuggle down in my seat to watch, a full glass of Scotch sweating in my hand. One corner of the screen is reeling footage of Dobson’s victims. They range in age and appearance, but they all have the same haunted look in their eyes. When a video clip of the ra**st comes on the screen, I scrunch my nose. He’s in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed and shackled. Officers wearing plain clothes surround him as he walks the short distance from the vehicle to the courthouse. He gives me the heebie-jeebies. He’s huge — linebacker size. The cop next to him looks puny. How this buffoon managed to get girls to come within five feet of him astounds me.
Suddenly, the screen flashes to Olivia. I want to change the channel, but as usual, I can’t pull my eyes from her. Nancy is waving her bejeweled hand in the air. Her voice is rising in crescendo and she’s told three people on her panel that they’re idiots for defending Olivia’s case. I reach over for a handful of popcorn, not taking my eyes from the screen. Nancy is right. I feel a sudden fondness for her. She obviously knows how to read people. Then I hear my name. I spit out my popcorn and lean forward.
She won a case a year ago, defending an heiress on clinical fraud charges. Nancy calls to someone on her panel. Did she win that case, Dave?
Dave gives a brief summary of my case and affirms that yes, indeed, Olivia did win the case.
Nancy is disgusted.
The evidence against that girl was overwhelming, she says, stabbing the desk with her finger.
I change the channel.
But, the following night, I turn it on again and watch all fifty-two minutes of blond fury. By night three, I’ve called into the show as a Ms. Lucy Knight from Missouri, and expressed my disgust with Olivia too. I make sure to tell her that I appreciate what she does for women, that’s she’s a goddamn hero. Nancy tearfully thanks me for being a fan.
By the end of her show, I am usually drunk. Sometimes Sam stays to watch it with me.
“She’s really pretty,” he says about Olivia. I spit an ice cube at him and he laughs. The baby is almost sleeping through the night now. I still sleep in her room, just in case she wakes up. Sam thinks I’m finally bonding with her, but I only do it so I don’t have to walk far in the middle of the night. Caleb is supposed to be back from his trip late the following day. He sent me a text saying he’d pick up Estella as soon as he got back. I plan a trip to the spa in the morning. If everything goes my way, he won’t be going anywhere.
“So, they were together in college?”
I look over to where Sam is sipping on his soda. “What the hell?”
“What?” He shrugs. “I feel like I’m watching a soap opera without all of the back-story.”
I sniff. “Yes, they were together for a few years in college. But, it wasn’t that serious. They never even slept together.”
Sam raises his eyebrows. “Caleb stuck around for a girl who wasn’t having sex with him?” He lets out a low whistle.
“What does that mean?” I curl my feet under my body and try not to look too interested. The lack of sex between Caleb and Olivia always confused me. I had wanted to ask questions on the rare occasion it came up, but never wanted to seem like the jealous girlfriend. Besides, Caleb protected his past like it was the goddamn crown jewels.
Sam looks thoughtful as he chews on a mouthful of beef jerky. He eats so much of the stuff I’ve come to associate the smell with him.
“Seems like a long time to ask a college-aged guy to wait. The only way I see someone doing that is if they are crazy in love … addiction love.”
“What do you mean addiction love?” Caleb has the most non-addictive personality I’ve ever seen. In fact, it bothers me. One year he will be a full-fledged skier and the next year when I book a trip to the lodge, he’ll tell me he’s not interested anymore. It happened countless times throughout our relationship — with restaurants, clothes … he even traded his car in every year. It almost always started with him loving something intensely and then gradually becoming bored with it.
“I don’t know,” Sam says. “I guess it sounds like he was willing to do anything for her … even if it meant going against what he was used to.”
“I hate you.”
He slaps my leg playfully and stands up. “Just trying to clear your head a little, Mommy monster. Seems like he’s your addiction and it’s not a healthy one.”
I glare after him as he heads for the door. He’s such a pompous ass.
“See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder. “When Mr. Perfect returns…”
But, the next day Sam calls to say he’s having car problems. I cancel the spa. I haven’t spent an entire day alone with the baby since Sam’s run with the flu. I eat a mini bag of frozen corn before going up to get her. For most of the day, I repeat everything I see Sam do. We have tummy time in the living room. I wipe her face after she’s done eating. I even splurge and take her for a mini walk in the stroller I have never used.
When I discover I'm out of diapers, I call Sam in a panic. He doesn’t answer, because no one is ever around when you really damn well need them! How am I supposed to take a baby to the store with me? There has to be some kind of service that runs errands for new mothers. After debating for more than an hour, I pack the baby in the car and head to the nearest grocery store. It takes me ten minutes to figure out how to load her car seat onto the cart. I swear under my breath, until a more seasoned mother comes over to help me. I thank her without meeting her eyes and steer my cart into the store just in time to miss the rain. The minute the cold air conditioning blows on the baby, she starts wailing. I push the cart haphazardly to the kid aisle and toss in five packages of diapers. Better safe than sorry.
