14. Liam
When I got out of the hospital on crutches, I had more offers of assistance from girls I’d known or dated than I ever could have imagined. Women offered to cook, to clean, to do my laundry. I even got more interesting offers, of the “you don’t have to return the favor” variety. I knew I should be saying yes to at least some of these—I was a changed man, after all, ready to settle down—but there was this bone-deep boredom that kept me silent.
I was finally ready to do the right thing—the thing my family had been on me about for years—but it felt like a sort of death.
In February, I limped into Beck’s bar. “Liam,” said a girl I knew from high school, “you’re breaking my heart, honey. I’m coming over this weekend to cook for you.”
I didn’t want her in my home, mostly because I didn’t want to be stuck trying to get her out of my home, but wasn’t this what I was supposed to want? A woman who’d notice if I was missing for three days? Someone I could care about too?
I was about to answer when I got a text.
Unknown number
This is Emerson Hughes with Inspired Building. I understand you’re my point of contact for the theater we’re restoring on Main Street. Hopefully you aren’t as slow to complete work as you are to pick up a phone.
I was unamused. I knew some stuff had fallen through the cracks—Bridget thought she’d forwarded my calls to JP, but she’d actually sent them to a random voicemail. My teeth ground as I forced myself to type a civil reply.
Sorry if you’ve had a hard time reaching someone. I’ve been in traction for a few weeks with a broken leg, among other things. I’m just getting up to speed.
That sounds made up. If you’re going to tell me wild stories, get better at lying first.
Inexplicably, I’d laughed. After weeks of everyone treating me as if I were pitiable, Emerson Hughes’ utter lack of sympathy was sort of refreshing.
I’ll work on it.
Work on it AFTER you’re done with my theater.
I’m not sure what I thought was going to come of it, but during the months we texted, it really felt like the start of something.
Have I not given up on the idea of her? I guess if I had, I wouldn’t still be scrolling through our old texts. I guess I wouldn’t be sitting in my house alone, laughing over the one she sent tonight.
That suggests to me that you’ve never destroyed an enemy before. It’s actually quite fulfilling.
Yep, I definitely haven’t given up.