“I think maybe your hormones are getting the best of you. Penny and I are worlds apart now. She’s going through a lot. She’s in the middle of a divorce.”
She threw the phone across the room.
“Oh my god, Briel. What are you doing?”
“Call your friend so she can leave you alone.”
She left the room crying and slammed the bedroom door hard enough to shake our tiny apartment. I could hear her sobbing. I had never lived with a woman, and here I was confined to six hundred square feet of space, with one bathroom, a kitchen, and a woman I wasn’t in love with. Meanwhile, I couldn’t speak French to save my life; I had to rely on Briel for everything. I was suffocating after only two months.
I decided I wasn’t going to let Briel boss me around. She had enough control. I walked out onto the cobblestone street and found a café, ordered an espresso, and called Penny. It was eight a.m. my time, eleven p.m. Penny’s.
“Hi,” she said.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t called you.”
“It okay,” she said. “I figured you were busy getting settled in.”
“God, I’m dying here. I hate it so much.”
“I’m sorry, Gavin.”
“What’s going on? How are you and Lance?”
I could hear her take a deep breath. “We’re not speaking. It makes the divorce proceedings easier. Milo arranges everything. What about you?”
“I don’t know. I feel stuck here.”
“You can’t run now.”
“That’s not it. Briel’s kind of a pain. I’m just trying to stay positive. She keeps threatening to leave me, and half the time I feel like saying, ‘Go ahead,’ but I desperately want to be a part of my daughter’s life.”
There was a long beat of silence. “You’re having a girl?”
“Yes.” I realized I hadn’t told her. She was always the first to know everything, but I couldn’t confide in her in this case. I was sure she was hurt. “I’m sorry, I meant to tell you right away.”
“What will you name her?”
“We haven’t chosen a name yet.”
“It’s okay. I have to get going anyway. Milo’s waiting for dinner.”
“Oh.” I was caught off guard. “Well, I’ll call you again soon.”
“Settle into your life, Gavin. Try to accept it. I did.”
I bristled. “Why am I sensing hostility?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll let you go.”
ON MY WAYback, I picked up some lilies for Briel, hoping it would smooth things over. When I walked in and offered them to her, she jerked her head back. “Gaveen, I’m allergic.”
“Fuck.” Another thing I didn’t know about her. I dumped the flowers in the garbage outside and came back in to find her lying on the couch, thumbing through a magazine.
Without looking up, she said, “I want to name her Elodie, and I think she should take my last name. She’ll fit in better here with the name Boucher.”
“Why? Berninger is French, too.”
“Kind of. I mean, she can have your last name, but I should take it too, in that case.”
