Chapter 16 #2
I show up to the studio covered in paint. I want to tell Paige that we aren’t going to record, but then I think better of it. She was ecstatic about the stats her video last night produced, and I don’t want to ruin the momentum or her hard work.
Especially if she were to find out about the water tower.
I had a long talk with Josie, with my frenemy by my side because he felt like it was a “family” conversation since Mack and Paige are dating, and we decided not to tell Paige.
Should she know, yes. Does telling her change the fact that we don’t know who did it, no.
Nick’s convinced once the guys know the water tower is closed, someone will come forward.
I told Nick to remind them who owns it. Maybe that’ll scare them.
“Could’ve showered,” Paige says as I sit down. I roll my eyes, put the cans on, and take my first call.
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“My sister keeps borrowing money and calling it a loan,” a woman says. “I tell her a loan has a due date and a gift doesn’t.”
“Do you want to gift her money?”
“No,” she says. “I want my money back. It’s always some excuse. She spent way too much for a dog and then had to borrow money to get all the accessories.”
“If you want her to stop borrowing, have her fill out a contract, with terms and a payment plan. Then when she misses her due date, you can charge her interest or just stop loaning her money. I know it’s easier said than done but promise me you’ll try it. Practice saying no in the mirror.”
“Okay,” she says and hangs up.
The next caller is a woman whose husband won’t go to counseling. Says therapy’s for marriages already dead. I tell her that’s backward. You go before it’s an emergency, not after. And if he won’t come with her, she goes alone and lets him watch it do some good.
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“Hi, my last child left for college and now I sit across the dinner table from my husband, and I can’t think of one thing to say to him.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Twenty years.”
“And you’ve spent most of the time being parents.
Now, you need to figure out who you were when you got married and bring those people to the dinner table.
Have a conversation about you, him, your day, and the vacation you want to take.
Don’t bring up the kids, the bills, or why he didn’t take the trash out last night. ”
She goes quiet, then says she’ll try.
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“Hey, hi,” he says. “My friends dared me to call you.”
“Let’s have it.”
“I’ve been with my girlfriend for six years and she won’t marry me. I ask, she says no, but doesn’t want to break up.”
This happened with Josie and Nick. He’d ask and she said no up until I came back, and then she said yes because she was afraid of her life crumbling around her.
I did that to her. I put her in a vulnerable place because ten years prior I couldn’t tell her what I wanted or tell her that the dream we started to share was no longer the dream I wanted to live.
“Ask her what she’s scared of,” I tell him.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to get married. My best friends aren’t married, and they’ve been together for twenty years plus.
They have four kids and five grandchildren and are happy.
They act like newlyweds and honestly, in all our years, I’ve never seen them fight.
Marriage isn’t always the answer and it’s not for everyone.
You won’t know until you sit down with her and ask.
Be prepared for her answer and accept it. ”
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“My husband bought me a vacuum for our anniversary. I cried and told him how wrong this is, but he says I’m overreacting.”
“Leave him,” I say with zero hesitation. “If he thinks buying you something for the house is a gift, then he sees you as a maid, not a partner. The only time this is acceptable is when you ask for this type of gift.”
“Harsh,” Bex says through my headphones. “Spot on, but harsh.”
“Men who do this drive me to drink. Have some consideration.” Nothing irritates me more than men who don’t think and then pretend like they don’t get it. Ask a buddy, he’ll tell ya.
My next caller is a woman whose husband’s ex-wife still texts him goodnight every night and calls it co-parenting. I tell her the text isn’t about the kids and her husband knows it, and the fix isn’t deleting the ex. He needs to tell the ex to stop or have a long, hard talk with his wife.
I keep the calls moving and during a break, I go to the bathroom to freshen up. In my office, I find a clean shirt and if anyone says anything about my pants, I’ll tell them it’s the new fade and they better jump on buying paint smeared jeans.
“All right, we’re back. I hope you enjoyed a little throwback to 4225 West’s first album. ‘Wake Up’ is a song I wrote for my now wife when I was eighteen. Let’s take our next caller.”
“Liam,” Bex says before I press the button. “Next one says he’s talked to you before. Older guy. Won’t leave a name.”
My gut tells me I know who this caller is before I even hear his voice. My mother, telling me she knows it’s him echoes loudly.
I nod to Bex and punch the line.
I clear my throat. “You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
His voice slow and rough. “I called you a while back. You gave me some advice. About my son.”
“I remember it.” I keep my voice as level as possible. “You asked me how a man makes amends.”
“You told me to show up. Tell the truth. Skip the excuses.” His breath drags on the words. “Take the no, if it comes back a no.”
“I did.”
“I haven’t managed the showing up.”
“Then it’s still just something you think about,” I say. “It doesn’t count until he can watch your face while you say it.”
“It’s not simple. Not from where I’m sitting.”
“It never is. But it’s not impossible, and you know it. You’re calling it complicated, so you don’t have to do the hard part. You keep waiting for the perfect way to say it, and there isn’t one. There’s just walking up and saying it. Nobody feels ready. You go anyway.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not easy. Easy and simple aren’t the same thing, and you know that better than most.”
There’s a version of tonight where I lean into this microphone and tell everybody listening exactly who’s on the other end of my line, and what he did, and how long it took me to stop bracing for him to knock on my door.
There’s a version where I hang up mid-sentence and let the dead air say everything I’m feeling.
I don’t do either.
I keep my voice steady, like I would with any other caller even though holding back is the hardest work I’ve done in this chair. Sterling doesn’t deserve my patience.
Or my words.
He’s quiet. Yet, I can hear him breathing, starting and stopping, the same as the first time he called. “I’m running short on the time to get it right.”
I don’t say anything.
“Then you’ve got none to waste on a radio show,” I say. “You had my answer the first time you called. Advice isn’t what’s been stopping you.”
“No.” The word barely makes it out of him. “It wasn’t.”
“So here it is again,” I say. “And then I’ve got a board full of people who called for their own reasons. Get up and go find him. Whoever he is, wherever he ended up. Do it while you’ve still got the legs to walk through the door. That’s all I’ve got for you tonight.”
A long breath on the line. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t hang up. For a second neither of us does.
Then the line goes soft, and it’s gone. I sit with the dead line in my ear a second too long, my breathing somewhat labored.
I hate that I gave Sterling that advice because he doesn’t need to come find me.
I refuse to give that man any peace or absolution. He made his choices, and I made mine.