“Have you considered blocking her number?”
“I hadn’t before today. It never crossed my mind to block her. She just stayed away after signing the papers. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again. When I saw her name on my caller ID, I answered without thinking. Then when I heard her sobbing I thought maybe something had happened to her dad. I’m still close with George and Linda, so if his cancer spread or something I’d expect a call.”
I rub my chin, pondering whether or not he should block hernumber. “Would Linda contact you if something were to happen to George?”
He shrugs. “I mean, Linda and I never had any issues. I assume she’d call me but I’m not certain. Why?”
“I’m trying to think through the best way to rid yourself of Stephanie without cutting out her father. If you block her number and something ever did happen to George, she wouldn’t be able to reach you. I guess I’m wondering if Linda would think to call you in the same circumstance. If that’s the case, then you don’t have anything to worry about by blocking Stephanie. However, if she won’t keep you in the loop and you found out George passed from an online obituary or something, I know that would crush you.”
Leo’s eyes fill with tears and I know he’s thinking about losing the only true father figure he’s ever known. “He’s more of a dad to me than my own piece of shit father ever was. He stood by me when Stephanie’s affair came out and all through our divorce. I don’t visit him at their house anymore, but we talk at least once a month. He never talks about his cancer and whether or not the treatments are working. Every time I ask he brushes me off and says, ‘Son, don’t you worry about this old man’ as if his illness is not something I should worry about. It fucking kills me not knowing how much longer he has left. If he’s getting better or worse.”
“Shit, man. I didn’t realize you talked that often.” I’m seriously dumbfounded by this revelation. “I knew you guys were close when you were married to Stephanie and that he’s still important to you, but I didn’t realize you talk to him regularly. Isn’t that uncomfortable? I’m sure Stephanie’s name comes up in your conversations.”
Leo lets out a huff and shakes his head. “Never. We talk about literally everything but Stephanie. He hasn’t mentioned her to me since everything was finalized.”
“Damn. That man must really love you.”
A sad smile stretches across Leo’s face and he nods. “Yeah. He does. Like his own son.”
The smile disappears and Leo rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying but failing to rid himself of the clusterfuck of emotionsrunning through his mind at this very moment. “I don’t know, man. She just caught me off guard and I don’t know how to process this curveball.”
I nod to show I’m here for him, but keep my mouth shut. I don’t know how I would react to a call from an adulterous ex. I haven’t spoken to Laura in six years, but she never cheated on me — not that I’m aware of, at least. I’d like to think if she called or if we ever ran into each other we’d have a slightly awkward, yet cordial, conversation.
Suddenly I start to feel claustrophobic with Leo’s varying emotions encircling my sitting area. “Let’s table this discussion and grab a coffee. I now have nineteen minutes before class and the Java Hut is on the way.”
Leo looks relieved that I’m forcing his attention away from his inner turmoil. “Sounds good. Talk to me about something good. Something light. Hockey. Talk to me about the Canadiens.”
I laugh as we stand, grab my things, and we head out of my office. “You hate the Canadiens.”
“I hate Stephanie more.” Leo pushes open the door to exit the building and we walk down the steps and toward a much-needed caffeine fix.
“Touché. Considering it’s the end of August I have just as little to report about my team as you do about the Canes.” I shrug and pull my keys out of my front trouser pocket, hooking the ring around my finger before flipping them around in my palm. Leo hates when I do this, so hopefully channeling his annoyance into his biggest pet peeve will distract him from thoughts of Stephanie. “I don’t have much going on right now that’s worth talking about.”
Leo gives me the side eye, then looks down at my hand and rolls his eyes. I’m surprised he doesn’t slap my keys out of my hand to stop my fidgeting.
“What about the hot grader? Any movement on that front?” Nope. Not unless you count my ever growing jealousy toward a certain man-child who had his hands on her earlier today.
“Nothing to report,” I shrug again, keeping my eyes fixed on the brick pathway before us. Leo’s not buying it.
“You know you’re full of shit, right? As soon as I mentioned her you stopped flipping your keys around and got all tense. What happened?” Damn. Someone’s an observant mother fucker today.
I let out a sharp breath, trying to decide which details to share and which to hold back. Maybe if I give him an inch, he’ll be satisfied.
“Considering I told you about her a little over a week ago and hadn’t seen or spoken to her again until this week, I really don’t have anything to report other than I think she’s going to be an awesome grader. I’m thankful I won’t have to do it myself this semester. When Matthews announced the budget cuts to our department and said she couldn’t hire any more TAs, I thought I’d be grading everything myself. None of the TAs in our department speak French, and I didn’t realize Matthews’ new TA was fluent. She literally sent me an email about Alis an hour before she brought her to my office to introduce us.”
“Oh, sweet. She speaks French?” Leo looks surprised by this revelation.
“I teachFrench, so it would obviously be necessary for my grader to know the language, don’t you think?” Dumbass.
“Well, I mean, I guess. But I thought this semester you’re teaching more English than French. I guess I assumed she’d cover your English stuff and leave thebonjour, merci, si vu pleto you.”
We arrive at the coffee shop and, thankfully, the line is short. I check my watch again before saying, “Your French is shit, my friend.”
Leo laughs and says, “It’d be better if someone would teach it to me.”
“You only want to know curse words and come-ons. I’m not wasting my time teaching you French just so you can fulfill some stupid Don Juan fantasy.”
Leo shrugs, unperturbed and all but confirming my accusation. “Don Juan is a legend. And he was Spanish, not French.”
