“Hi. I got divorced a couple of years ago,” A woman says. “And my friends keep pushing me to date again, and I don’t think I have it in me to start over at my age.”
“You’re not starting over,” I tell her. “You’re not the same woman who married the first time, and that’s the good news. You know things now. Go slow and know that you’re allowed to.”
Harrison doesn’t wait for me to hand it to him. “I met my partner, Katelyn, at a Christmas party this fool threw,” Harrison says, and points across the board at me. “She was a widow with two little girls, five years old, and a life she was piecing back together. Everybody figured I was out of my mind to take that on. Best thing I ever did. Those girls are grown now with babies of their own, and I wouldn't give back a single day of it. You're not too old and you're not too late. Complicated isn’t a reason to say no. Half the time it’s the reason to say yes.”
“Let me ask you something,” I say after we end the call. “Do you refer to Katelyn and your partner or wife?”
“Wife,” he says happily.
I already knew the answer but wanted the listeners to hear it as well.
“You’re on The Love Line with Harrison and Liam,” Harrison says as he winks at me. I guess he only needed one call to take over my job.
“Hey,” the young man says. “I’m marrying a woman who has two kids from before, and everybody keeps telling me how hard being a stepdad is, and it’s honestly freaking me out.”
“Here’s what nobody tells you,” Harrison says. “You are not there to be their dad. That spot’s filled or it isn’t, and either way it’s not yours to grab. You’re there to love their mother and be steady and boring and around. Do that long enough, and the kids work out what you are to them on their own. Don’t rush them. I was in the same boat. My girls had just lost their dad; they were young and confused and the last thing they needed was someone trying to parent them. I became their friend first, their confidant. We had special days where I took the girls and my wife took my son. It’s how we bonded. Our three kids are unbelievably close because we allowed the relationship to mature on its own. No forcing. If one didn’t want to do something the others were doing, no problem. Everyone’s feelings mattered and were heard.”
“And when you get it wrong,” I add, “and you will, you own it and apologize, without making it about how hard you’re trying. Kids see through that in a second. You just keep showing up.”
Between calls I cue up one of the old tracks, one from before either of us had gray in our hair, and Harrison shuts his eyes and taps it out on the edge of the desk with two fingers. It’s all still in his hands. For a few seconds he’s behind his kit, playing. Maybe surgery is the way to go, to keep this part of him alive.
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam and Harrison.”
“My boyfriend took a job across the country for a year, and everybody keeps telling me long-distance never works,” the woman on the line says.
“I spent the better part of twenty years leaving the woman I love in one city and waking up in another,” Harrison says. “It works if you both decide it’s worth the phone calls and neitherone of you keeps score about who called last. If he’s worth it, a year is nothing. If he’s not, you’ll know it by spring.”
“Set the end date and count toward it, not away from it,” I tell her. “A year with a finish line is a plan. A year without one is a problem. Make sure you’ve got the first kind.”
Somewhere around the fourth call the last of the nerves are gone, and the Harrison I know shows up. He starts giving me a hard time on the air, about my hair, about the fact that I read a caller’s letter with my glasses on. Bex is laughing behind the glass. Paige has to move away from the live stream to laugh right along with Bex.
I’m just the laughingstock of FMG Records.
“You’re on The Love Line with Harrison and Liam.”
A man, laughing before he even starts. “This is going to sound stupid. My girlfriend wants us to get matching tattoos, and I think it’s a bad idea, and she says if I really loved her I’d do it.”
“A tattoo isn’t a love test, and neither is anything else somebody frames that way,” I tell him. “You love her. You also get to keep your own skin. Tell her both, in that order.”
“My wife never once made me prove I loved her,” Harrison says. “Not one test, not one time. That’s how I knew she was worth keeping. Anybody who’s keeping score on you, that’s your answer right there.”
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam and Harrison.”
“My oldest moved back home a few months ago, and I don’t know how to have him here now that he’s grown.” The man on the line sounds tired.
“He’s not a houseguest and he’s not a kid anymore, so stop treating him like either one,” I tell him. “Rent, chores, and grown-man respect, both directions. You’re not raising him now. You’re two men sharing an address for a while. If he can’t pitch in, give him a timeline.”
“And stop giving him advice he didn’t ask for,” Harrison says. “My oldest is grown and gone, and I still had to learn to shut my mouth and let him be wrong sometimes. It’s the hardest thing you’ll do all year. Ask me how I know.”
I look at Harrison oddly. I’ve never, in my life, seen Quinn and Harrison at odds.
Harrison presses the button to bring the next caller in. “You’re on The Love Line with Harrison and Liam.”
“Hi, wow. I can’t believe I’m on the phone with both of you. Anyway, we’ve been together five years and he still won’t propose, and I’m tired of waiting.” The woman sounds exhausted.
“Marriage isn’t for everyone,” Harrison says. “When my wife and I got together, she said she didn’t want to remarry. I was fine with it because it wasn’t the piece of paper I wanted. I wanted her. Her kids. The family I saw us having. She’s my wife, in every sense of the word. Her girls are mine, and my son is hers.”
“Does she wear a ring?” the caller asks.
