“After the … choice I made … Owen and I made a pact to return home, here, after college, and get married.”
Livvie’s eyes are wide and she chugs her wine like it’s the only thing that will get her through this story. “What happened?”
So much happened. So much I don’t want to relive and won’t share. “He got drunk one night and drove up to my college dorm and said things I can never forgive. So, I never came home.”
“Ohmygod.” Livvie rushes the words together and grabs the bottle of wine, refilling her cup.
I suddenly feel exposed, all the memories flooding into me one by one.
“We were young. So…” I've been telling myself that for years.We were young. As if age should provide some kind of salve for the wound.
Livvie nods. "Young love is the worst of them all." She wrinkles her nose as she reconsiders. "Well, maybe not the worst. But it's wrapped up in a time period when you were extremely selfish and you didn't know any better. And you look back on it with some kind of weird reverence. You love the time when you were allowed to be naive, but you're also annoyed by your naïveté and all the mistakes you made during it."
My lips peel apart in amazement. I've never attempted to define how I feel, but that is exactly it. I've always looked back on me and Owen with fondness, but there's been so much anger attached to the fondness, like a nice memory outlined in angry, violent red. Anger and fondness—I’ve not been able to tease the two apart.
"How did you just put everything I've been feeling into words I haven't been able to voice?" It’s like a weight has been lifted off of me. Telling a complete stranger our story has freed me in some weird way.
"Because I'm married to my high school sweetheart, and our life is nothing like I thought it would be." Livvie tips up her cup and drains what's left again.
Shit, I think I just found my new best friend.
She picks up the bottle that sits between us and refills. When she offers more to me, I shake my head.
I wait for her to say more about her marriage, but she doesn't. And as much as I'd like to stay and keep talking, there's another stop I'd like to make before my mom's treatment is finished.
"I should get going. I need to pick up groceries before I go get my mom." If I do it now, I won't have to worry about dragging her out with me after picking her up. What if she doesn't feel good or she's too tired? Everything about taking care of my mom during this cancer battle has me on edge.
Livvie stands, grabbing the wine bottle by the neck on her way up, and I stand too. She offers the bottle to me, but I shake my head.
"Keep it," I tell her. "I have three more."
"Wino," she says with a small smile.
"Damn straight," I agree.
"Hah," she barks, smiling so wide I can see almost all of her teeth.
We exchange numbers and a hug, and she walks me to the front of the store before unlocking it. I push it open and give her a long look. I feel like we’ve shared something special and I only just met this chick.
"Thanks for today." I pause with my palm on the door handle. "I needed to talk to someone who isn't my mom or Owen."
"Owen the oncologist?"
"Owen the oncologist," I confirm with a grin.
"I'm going to use your number," Livvie warns. "But fair warning, I write inappropriate text messages and my meatballs are better than any you had in Manhattan."
"Prove it," I say.
She smiles and I step out the door as it swings shut behind me.
My mood is brighter and I know I didn’t have enough wine for it to be that. Livvie was a nice surprise and I hope we can be friends.
My phone rings on the way to the car but it's a number I don't know. The area code is local, so I answer.
"Hello?"
"Autumn, hey." Owen's deep voice trickles through the receiver. "It's Owen."
