Page 73 of Cocky Nerd
But I love everything she says. Even when she’s telling me I’m anidiot.
Delete.
Half an hour later,I send this:Where areyou?
And I take ashower.
And then I check myphone.
Noresponse.
I order roomservice.
Check myphone.
Noresponse.
Force myself toeat.
Still noresponse.
Fuck this. I call her. It goes straight tovoicemail.
I can’t take this, the not knowing. If I don’t understand what’s happening I can’t figure out how to fix it. I won’t know what’s going on unless I go back to the Montgomeryhouse.
Sanjay has been leavingme messages since yesterday afternoon, but there’s nothing urgent, he just panics when I don’t tell him what to do every hour. Nothing matters until I find out where Olivia is and where her bewildering head isat.
I may not know much about love or Olivia, but I do know that if she’s told her family about the contracts then it’s really over. If she hasn’t told them, I still have ashot.
When I pull into the driveway, the house looks empty. I ring the doorbell and knock on the door, three times, like I always have. They only hear the doorbell if they’re upstairs, and if someone knocks too loudly or quickly it startles Mrs. Montgomery. Three knocks, not too fast, not too slow. I don’t hear barking. Maybe they’re nothome.
The door opens and Mrs. Montgomery looks up at me, happy to see me, but confused. Definitely notangry.
“Johnny? What are you doinghere?”
“Hi, Mrs. Montgomery. I…Is Oliviahere?”
“We took her to the airport this morning, we assumed it was to be withyou.”
Fuck yeah. There ishope.
“It’s just me home now. You know that Nathan and Katie went back to Chicago. Alan and Bob are at a puppy training class. Come in, come in. It’s so funny—I thought it was you when I heard the knock, but then I thought no he’s in Palo Alto. Comein.”
I want to go to the airport. I want to call Olivia. But I can get more information from Mrs.Montgomery.
There ishope.
I step inside. “Okay, I don’t want to botheryou.”
“Oh, it’s never a bother.” She studies my face. “You two had a fight, didn’tyou?”
I nod and look down, ashamed. She pats my back and squeezes myarm.
“Come have some coffee and help me eat the leftover banana-zucchinibread.”
The banana-zucchini bread does get better as it gets older. She leads me to the kitchen table. It’s the same table I sat at with Nathan so many mornings, whenever we weren’t allowed to eat while watching TV. I learned about family at this table. I learned about Olivia’s eating habits at this table. I learned that if I add or subtract polynomials in my head I can control my erection even when my best friend’s teenage sister is eating a banana while wearing shorts and a thin flimsy T-shirt with no bra—but I won’t think about that now. I will learn something important at this table today, I just don’t know whatyet.
Steph Montgomery places a mug that saysMama needs some coffeein front of me, and a plate of the bread she made with me in mind, and I realize that it never even occurred to me to call my parents yesterday, or go to their house to be with them, and for the first time in my life, maybe, I feel likecrying.
