Life and Other Inconveniences(80)

She shrugged. “It was. It was harder that she never called or sent a card, but hey. People are complicated.”

“You would know, I guess. Being a therapist.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Somehow, though, I’m not immune. I make the same dumb mistakes as everyone.”

“Don’t we all.”

A car drove past, the bass thumping from the radio, then the quiet settled in again. Joe Oliveras had put his guitar away, apparently.

“You know what I hate?” Emma asked. “I hate when people say stupid but well-meaning things.”

He glanced at her.

“Like right now,” she went on. “I’m sitting here, thinking about how nice Ashley was and how I always felt special when she talked to me at a party, and how much you must miss her. Which of course you do.”

“Yes. I do. But thank you. She was . . .” Everything. “Special.” He took a sip of the whiskey, feeling it warm its way past his cold, dead heart. “But you know what it’s like. You lost your mom. People must’ve said stupid and well-meaning things to you, too.”

“They did,” she said cheerfully. “‘She’s watching over you’ was a personal non-favorite. I mean, I would’ve preferred she was still here and watching me live and in person, you know?”

“I do. People say that to me, too.”

“Do you also get ‘Be strong’?”

“God, yes. I hate that one.”

“I was eight when my mom died. I didn’t even know what being strong meant.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“And then when I had Riley, people would say, ‘You’re so strong, Emma.’ I felt like saying, ‘No, I’m pathetic and weak and my boobs hurt and please take my baby so I can sleep, and also do you have a few extra thousand dollars lying around?’” She laughed and rolled her eyes, and Miller found he was smiling a little at her honesty.

“‘Heaven’s got a new angel,’” he offered. “That one makes me homicidal.”

“That is a particularly horrible thing to say. Wow.”

He liked the emphatic way she talked. “Your turn,” he said.

“Okay. Um . . . ‘You’ll meet again someday.’”

“Gah.” He shuddered. “How old were you again?”

“Eight. Your turn.”

“Oh, here’s a good one. ‘It was God’s plan.’”

“You’re allowed to slap someone who says that, I’m pretty sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that next time.”

“I’ll post your bail.” She took another sip of wine. Miller’s whiskey was gone, and he was tired and knew he should ask her to go so he could try to sleep.

But it was nice, sitting on the porch with a pretty woman, one who wasn’t coming on to him or offering parenting advice.

“You and Jason get along pretty well,” he said.

“Yeah, we do.” She sounded noncommittal. “Although you were completely right about our . . . dynamic. He’s not a bad father, but his life didn’t change that much. He went to college, got a job out here, fell in love and got married, and I did one thing. I had Riley.”

“And got a couple of degrees, I hear.”

“Sure. But without my grandfather, I don’t know where we’d be.”

“I guess I don’t really know too much about what happened to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Um . . . your aunt and uncle didn’t want much to do with me. They’ve never met Riley, in fact.”

“Are you shitting me?”

She looked at him. “Nope.”

“I . . . wow. Emma, you must hate us. I always thought you went to . . . where was it?”

“Chicago. Downers Grove, to be specific.”

“I thought you went out there because you wanted to.”

She laughed a little. “No. I wanted to marry Jason and live here.”

“Are you bitter?” Listen to him, asking all the Oprah questions.

“Well, sure! I mean, have you met Jamilah? She’s stinkin’ beautiful.” But he could tell by her tone that she wasn’t bitter, which was fairly amazing.

“You’re a good kid, Emma.”

“I’m thirty-five and feel a lot older most days.”

“I’m forty and feel a hundred.”

“Yeah. I bet you do.” She set her wineglass down on the coffee table, causing Luigi to jump off her lap. “I should head home. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too.”

“I’m around if you need help with Tess. And Riley is not gainfully employed this summer, so if you need a sitter . . .”

“I kind of do.”

“Call.” She put her hand on his shoulder for a second. “Nighty-night.”

“Need a ride home?”

“Nah, I’ll walk. It’s gorgeous out. Bye, Miller.”

“Bye.”

He watched her go down the street until she turned the corner.

Then Tess began to scream, so, with a sigh that wasn’t quite as defeated as usual, he got up to see to his child.