“Been busy lately?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” I reply.
“I went by your place, but you weren’t there,” she goes on. “Your doorman said you hadn’t been home for a couple of days. Everything okay?”
I don’t want to get too in-depth with it here at work, so I give her the quick and dirty version of things. She’s appalled by what happened and has a thousand questions about why the cops aren’t doing more to keep Robert at bay. I don’t have any answers for her – I don’t even have answers for myself.
“Are you okay over there?” she asks.
“It’s not ideal. I’m not comfortable there,” I tell her. “I’m even less comfortable with my three-hundred-pound babysitter.”
“You don’t have to stay there, you know,” she barks. “He’s not your keeper.”
I let out a long breath and sit back in my seat. I’m frustrated, but I have to keep my head. I have to hold myself in check.
“It’s fine, Olivia,” I sigh. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“You don’t sound so sure about that, girl. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
My eyes drift to the marriage certificate once more, and I feel a sudden sense of loss. It’s ridiculous since I never actually had what it is I’m mourning the loss of, but as I look at the printed words on the page and remember how outrageously ludicrous the ceremony was, I feel it keenly anyway.
“It’s nothing, Olivia. I’m okay. I promise you.”
“You sure about that?”
“We’ll talk about it later, hon,” I say. “We’ll get together and have a long, long talk.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line. This really isn’t the place to be getting into this conversation. Aaron hasn’t been around much in the last couple of days – he’s had a lot of off-site meetings lately – but he could pop in at any point. Which means I need to watch my tongue.
“Promise?” Olivia asks.
“Swear it.”
“Okay. That sounds like it’s about the best I’m going to get out of you.”
“For now,” I tell her.
“Well, I need to get you in for some prenatal care,” she changes the subject. “The sooner we start getting you in for regular checkups and all, the better.”
“I promise to get in there as soon as I can.”
“And when is that going to be?” she presses.
I laugh softly. “So insistent.”
“I want you and your baby to be healthy,” she chirps brightly. “Is that such a crime?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, so let’s set a date,” she urges me. “Besides, it’ll give us a chance to catch up with each other.”
Things here seem so tenuous to me that I have no idea where I’m going to be tomorrow, let alone the next day. Setting a date in advance for a checkup I know I might not be able to keep seems pretty futile. But I know I need to appease Olivia – even if it means having to reschedule the appointment later on.
“Okay, how about next week? Tuesday?” I ask.
“Great. I’ll get you a time in the afternoon, so you don’t have to take a lot of time off work,” she replies. “I’ll give you a call and firm up a time.”
“Terrific,” I try to put some extra cheer in my voice for her benefit. “Talk to you soon.”