Paige is already nodding before I finish. “One segment. Deal.”
“And don’t put me on there crying.”
“Dad.” She frames me up and grins behind the phone. “The crying is the content.”
There’s nothing left for me to say. I know I can shake my head, roll my eyes, or tell her no, but deep down that doesn’t change that Paige is probably right. I just don’t want to admit it yet.
The first two-thirds is just me and the voices and the dark, no different from any other night. A woman whose teenage daughter found a boyfriend the woman can’t stand. A guy who proposed and got a “not yet” and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Then the back third comes up. Paige counts me down off her fingers, four, three, two, and points at me. We’re live.
I go stiff the second I know I’m being watched. My voice climbs half a register and I find myself looking at her phone when I said I didn’t want to. Paige, behind the camera, draws a slow circle in the air.
Ease up.
Breathe.
I remind myself this is no different from shooting a music video or being interviewed for a special. I’ve been on camera before. This is different though. This is me being me, and not the musician who is being asked about his number one hit being on a soundtrack.
“All right,” I say after taking a deep inhale. “For those of you joining us through the live video tonight, welcome. Try not to judge the face or if you do, please tell me what products I need to add to my skincare routine.”
I laugh and expect some in return. I look at Paige, who shakes her head.
“My daughter is behind the live feed tonight. Actually, she’s behind all of mine and 4225 West’s social media. Be kind. Be respectful. Be thankful. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t see me right now.”
This gets a smile from my daughter.
“The phone lines are still open and the only place I’ll answer questions. If you don’t get through tonight, remember I’m here every weeknight.”
The board lights up and I press the button. “You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“I need somebody to tell me if I’m losing my mind,” the man says in a rush. “My girlfriend told me she was pregnant. I panicked, then I got my head straight, told her we’d figure it out, I was all in, whatever she needed. Like I’m excited about being a dad. Then three days later she says, ‘surprise, I made it up. I wanted to see what you’d do,’ to test me.”
I think back to the day I stood at the threshold of Josie’s dorm room. If I had gone in, I would’ve been there when my son was born. Instead, I was so wrapped up in the bullshit of football, my father, and meeting my grandmother, that as soon as Josie told me we’d call my coach and fix everything, I knew I needed to get out of there. Hindsight being what it was, I’ll always regret not asking her to come with me.
“She faked a pregnancy to run an experiment on you?”
“. . .When you say it like that.”
“I’m only saying it the way it happened.” I keep my voice flat, even though the camera’s catching every twitch and I can feel the heat climbing my neck. “You’re not losing your mind. A person who invents a pregnancy to see how you’ll jump isn’t scared, son. She’s finding out what she can make you do. I’m sorry, but this is wrong. It’s hurtful and damaging. My advice is to leave. I knowit may sound harsh, but . . . nah. Leave. Be kind about it. Don’t make a scene. But go.”
Paige leans to side and looks at me. She knows where my head is at. She knows the mistakes I made.
Bex comes on in my headphone. “There was no easy way to answer that one,” she says. “You said everything from the heart. I’m watching Paige’s live stream. You have over one-hundred thousand watching and actively commenting. I’ll filter some out to answer generally later. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.”
I nod and press the button for the next call. “You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
The next one’s a woman, working to keep her voice steady. “About a year ago, my best friend since the third grade slept with my ex. He was abusive, cheated constantly, and she helped me leave him. He told me, bragged really. I confronted her and asked her why, and she never really said. I went no contact. Now, I’m getting married and she wants to make it right. Everybody keeps telling me I have to forgive her. Do I?”
“You don’t have to do a single thing. But let’s get the word straight, because people use it to mean two different things at once.” I pull the mic closer. “Forgiving her and letting her back in your life aren’t the same. You can forgive her and still keep her out for good. Forgive her so it quits eating you. That part’s for you, not her. Whether she’s ever your friend again is separate. She’d have to earn that back slowly, and she might not make it. You’re allowed to miss the friend and still not want the person who did this anywhere near you. Don’t let anybody talk you into treating those as the same thing.”
“So I can forgive her and still not want her at my wedding.”
“You can forgive her and not want her at your birthday dinner. Forgiving her means you’re over what she’s done. It doesn’t put her back in your life. That part she earns, or she doesn’t.”
Bex points two fingers at the next light and mouths something through the glass. I punch it.
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“Hi, yes, okay, we’re both here.” A woman, brisk, a little wound up. There’s a man breathing on the line beside her. “You’re on speaker. We need a tiebreaker and we agreed, whatever you say, we do.”
