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A big, colorful parrot suddenly appeared from the tree, fluttering his wings and landing a few feet away. Rosie squealed and started telling me everything she knew about birds. I nodded and smiled when appropriate—at least I hoped I did—but my mind was completely elsewhere for the next hour.
Eventually, the sky grew darker again and a crack of thunder rattled the sky.
“Oh boy.” Rosie looked up. “I think we’re going to get wet if we don’t get going.”
I nodded and sprang into action, glad to go back to being alone, even if that’s what I’d come here to escape. At least now I had something to think about beyond what I’d done to Calder and what Rafe was doing in Las Vegas.
On our way out of the park, the family that had been playing on the swings passed us. They were likely rushing to beat the weather home, too. The little boy was in the stroller, and the little girl stood on the back ledge as her mother pushed, getting a free ride. She waved to me.
I waved back and watched as they turned and moved down the block in the opposite direction, the moment feeling more than a little symbolic.
***
Drinking to cure your anxiety is a lot like trying to put a fire out with gasoline. Yet I poured another glass of wine and checked my phone.
Ten PM and still no call or text from Rafe. I thought for sure he’d call when he got to his hotel and settled in. Surely he was there by now. I’d stalked his flight before I opened the wine and saw that it had landed hours ago. I tried my best not to let my mind wander to a dark place, but today hadn’t been pretty.
A half hour later, I polished off my second glass of wine and stared at the half-empty bottle with a nice buzz going, considering whether I should have a third. Screw it. I reached for the bottle, but as I pulled the cork, my cell phone rang.
It’s about time.
I reached for it, but my hand froze when I saw the name on the screen.
Calder.
I was definitely not in the mood to answer, but my guilt had me swiping anyway. “Hello?”
“Ta-lee-ahhhh.”
Only my name, and I knew he was drunk. Drunker than I was.
“Hi, Calder. Is everything okay?”
“Not really. I puked on the floor, and the cop’s pissed.”
“Cop?” I stood. “Where are you?”
“Uh-oh.”
“What’s going on, Calder?”
“I think I’m going to get sick again.”
It sounded like his phone clanked to the floor. There was some yelling, and then a man came on the line.
“This is Officer Perry over at the 78th Precinct. Who am I speaking to?”
“Talia Richards.”
“Is Calder your husband?”
“No, he’s my…” I had no idea what to call him, so I went with the truth. “He’s my ex.”
“Great.” The cop sighed. “Does that mean you’re not going to come get him?”
“No, I’ll come get him if he needs me to. Just tell me where to go.”
The cop rattled off an address. “I get off shift at midnight. If you’re not here by eleven thirty, I’m gonna have to book him.”
