Page 102 of Blue Line Lust

Then she checks the time on her watch. She’s one of, like, two people in the world that still use real watches to tell time regularly.

“And with that, my workday is done,” she announces. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

I’ve never known her to be so curt, but here I am. Left alone in my house, with my screaming daughter and no one here to help me.

And no one but myself to blame.

* * *

The more hours go by, the more I fall to fucking pieces. I look at this inconsolable baby and I question why her mother brought her to me. She had to have known that I’d have no idea what I was doing. She had sex with me, after all—she knew how things worked around here. The package deal that I offer is fun, fucking, and the finality that that’s all there is. Yet she gave me a daughter I have no idea what to do with, and for what?

This was the universe telling me that my habits had consequences. That has to be it, right? I’ve skated by for years doing whatever the hell I want with whoever the hell I want. No repercussions. No strings attached.

A child is one hell of a string.

One-arming my daughter, I bounce her while I get my free hand on my phone. I’m at my wits’ end. I need to bring in the calvary.

Calvary by the name of Grams.

I tuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder and continue bouncing Violet gently while humming, which doesn’t calm her down one hundred percent but does seem to take the shrillest edge of her crying. I’m honestly a little impressed with myself—this shit may as well be an Olympic sport. Fuck hockey—put me in the league of single fathers just trying to make it without going insane. I’ll win gold.

The line rings and rings and rings. After nearly a minute, it cuts to voicemail. “Don’t know why you’re tryin’ to call me but here’s the best place to tell me why! I’ll get back to ya when I get back to ya.”

That’s Grams’ carefree voice filtering through the speaker. When the beep sounds for me to record, I know she’s going to get an earful of Violet’s whining and screaming. For a split second, I consider those begging words.

I need help.

I can’t do this on my own.

Please come bail me out.

Guilt and embarrassment grips my throat and instead of saying any of that, I hang up.

“Come on, Vi,” I mutter as I hold her. “You gotta work with me here. I have no idea what I’m doing and you’re just, yanno… Over here bawling your eyes out.”

She sniffles, looking up to me with these wide, skeptical eyes. My eyes. It makes me laugh and shake my head at the same time. How many times in her life did Grams have to contend with that exact same look from me?

“Come on, kiddo. It can’t be all that bad, can it?”

She opens her mouth wide. For a second, I can’t help but smile. She’s fucking adorable when she does that. She’s calm and toothless and beautiful. My heart swells. I bend down to kiss her on the forehead as a silent thank you for her cooperation…

And she promptly vomits down the front of my shirt.

I stand there, dumbfounded and speechless, as she starts up her wailing again, louder than ever. Two thoughts cross my mind.

One is that I’m mega-fucked.

The second is the determination that got me this far in life. I have to handle this myself.

47

OLIVIA

The light of my phone blinds me as I open it up. It sears into my retinas—but not nearly as intensely as the message that I see on my screen.

REESE: cOme. bck. NO w.

REESE: I can tttTT do thIs alone

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