“It’s all about batting those eyelashes and making her think you’re irresistible.”
“Uh, huh, sure,” he says as he drinks from his pint glass.
That nightI go back on the air.
“You’re on The Love Line.”
“Hi,” the older male voice says. “It’s my son. He used to tell me everything. Now I get one word at a time.”
“How old is your son?”
“He’s fifteen.”
I glance at Paige who smirks. “That’s what they do at that age,” I tell him. “They go quiet on everybody. The trick is to be in the room doing something else when he decides to talk, so it’s easy for him to start. Fix a car. Do the dishes. Be around and be boring. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Don’t chase him. Leave the door open and wait. Think back to when you were a teen, how were you with your parents. Everything is fine, okay, yep, whatever. It’s a stage. They come out of it eventually.”
“You’re on The Love Line.”
“Hey, Liam.” It’s a man, and he takes a second to get to his question. “I want to go back to school. I’m no kid, and my grown children keep telling me it’s a midlife crisis. Am I crazy for wanting it?”
“Your kids don’t get a vote on your life,” I tell him. “The worst thing that happens is you learn something. Sign up.”
He laughs. “My wife said the exact same thing.”
“Your wife’s smarter than your kids. Listen to her.”
I look at the board; the caller is Jennifer. I punch the next line. “You’re on The Love Line.”
“My best friend only ever talks about herself,” she says. “Every time we’re together, and she’s never once asked how I am. I’m starting to feel invisible. Do I just let it go?”
“No. You tell her,” I say. “Plainly, and one time. A real friend feels bad and does better. The other kind gets offended and proves your point. Either way, you’ll know what you’ve got.”
I take the last line before the break. “You’re on The Love Line.”
“I want to tell my boyfriend I love him,” she says. “We’ve been together two years and he still hasn’t said it. Is it stupid to say it first?”
“Say it,” I tell her. “Out loud and mean it. Then watch what he does, not what he says. Two years is long enough to know. Better you have your answer now than later.”
Bex feeds me a couple more, and I get them where they need to go. It is a good hour. The show has been good for weeks, better than I ever expected.
Then a name comes up on the screen. Harley. She has called the show before. I take the line.
“Hi, Liam.” Her voice is soft and pleased. “I hope it’s all right that I called. I have to tell you something and I can’t hold it in anymore.”
“Go ahead, Harley.”
“I saw you.” She says it slowly. “A few weeks ago. That restaurant a couple of towns over, the one with the piano. You walked right past my table, and I said hello, and you were so kind to me. You held my hand a second longer than you had to. I’ve thought about it every day since.”
So that was her. The woman at the restaurant who knew my whole schedule and held on too long when I shook her hand. I never put the two of them together until right now.
“You weren’t alone,” she says. “She’s beautiful, your wife. You both looked so happy. I sat in my car a long while after, just being glad for you.”
My skin goes cold. Everything she is saying is true, down to the last detail, and none of it is anything she should know.
“Harley.” I keep my voice level. “I’m glad the show helps you. I mean that. But remember what I said, a voice on the radio is not a person who knows you. The people who can know you are back in your own town, not through a phone line. That’s where you should be putting your time.”
