Page 21 of Heart of Gold

“I’ll get over it.”

“That’s fair,” she says. “We should sleep on it.”

That pulls me back. Noelle hates fighting so we’ve stayed up until the wee hours of the night, hashing and rehashing disagreements until my will bends because I’m just over discussing it. Emily recognizes anger and lets it exist. Although I’m furious for what she did, at least she gives me space to feel it.

“Okay,” I say, my blood pressure already lowering. I pay our bill, and we walk out, several feet from one another. She gives me the address, and I walk to my car after a nod. No touch, no goodbye. When I reach my car, I turn back and she’s still standing outside her driver’s door, arms folded, with eyebrows knitted together. She looks confused, maybe hurt.

A small part of me wants to go back, but I start my car and drive off.

7

Emily

I spread peanut butter on a Ritz cracker and make a sandwich with another. A tear hits the treat as I bite into it. I must look pathetic, drinking a lukewarm can of Diet Coke with a bow on it and eating crackers for dinner. My tears started when I hit the threshold of my house and haven’t stopped as I polish off a full sleeve with gobs of peanut butter.

Some birthday dinner.

This birthday has sucked ass. I didn’t think my twenty-first birthday could be topped, but no. This is hands-down the worst birthday I’ve ever had.

When I close my eyes, I see Max’s shock. The utter disbelief on his face when I told him about Olive burns my brain. He shut down to a deadly silence and fury brewed in his gaze. I thought for a moment he would stand up and leave once I told him I couldn’t get an abortion, and our honest mistake is now a human. When he left to make some phone calls, I knew there was a chance he might never come back.

But he did, and now he’s in the tiny house. On my property. Absolutely furious with me. He still wants to meet her, even though I was certain he wanted nothing to do with her or me. I’m not sure why he’s here. Why he’s back, after all this time. Thinking about asking him, getting an answer, incapacitates me with a fear so strong, I want to flee.

But I can’t because he’s right there.

This is so fucked up.

I push the curtains away, the lights glowing against the deepening dusk. My mother is on the way here with Olive, and I’m halfway through my emergency bottle of cheap wine from the Goldheart Neighborhood Market.

Car tires roll over gravel outside, and then I hear two voices—my mother’s and my daughter’s. I take another deep drink as the door flies open. My daughter bounces in, blissfully unaware, while my mother is cautious, like I’m a black bear out for blood.

“Hi, Mom,” Olive says, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I kiss the side of her head as she squirms. She looks at me, and at least this set of blue eyes isn’t mad at me. “Did you have a good birthday?”

“It was a birthday,” I say. My mother and I catch glances, and I smile with a closed mouth. Mom takes a seat, and I pour her a glass because I should slow down.

“Olive, can you take a seat, please?” I ask.

“Why?”

“Please sit down.”

Olive sighs audibly and sits down, pushing her hair out of her face. I take a sip of wine.

“We have a friend staying with us at the tiny house.”

My mother points in the direction and mouths He’s here?

I nod. Mom takes a sip of wine as her eyes bug before I turn back to Olive.

“His name is Max, and he’s a very nice man. He wants to meet you tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Olive says. “Do you have a new boyfriend?”

“No,” I say with a laugh. “He’s just a friend. An old friend. From a long time ago.”

“Okay, weird.” Olive stands up with a head shake and walks to the exit of the kitchen. “Can I watch my iPad?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

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