Mr. Wrong Number(76)
“Oh, well this sounds promising.”
He clenched his jaw and said, “Can you maybe knock off the sarcasm for five minutes?”
I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture so I said, “The most I can promise is three.”
“See, this is what I’m talking about.”
“Well, you weren’t really talking about anything yet, actually—”
“Come on, Colin, shut your obnoxious mouth, will you?”
Now he looked ready to explode, and I kind of wanted him to. I felt a restlessness pulsing under my skin, a tension that made me hungry for confrontation as he gave me his disappointed glare.
Still, he was my father.
I took a deep breath, counted to five, and said, “Consider it shut. Please continue.”
He looked at me for a minute, like he was waiting to see if I meant it or not. Then he gave me a sarcastic half smile. “Was that so tough?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “A little . . . ?”
That made him grin, and we were good again in our own dysfunctional way. He leaned against the car and said, “You don’t seem okay, Col.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Your mother is convinced this Olivia girl broke your heart. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I think this might be a good time for you to step back and reexamine your life.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but I just said, “Think so?”
“I do.” He rubbed a hand over his closely trimmed beard and said, “When things don’t go as planned, we can either pout and behave like a reticent child, or take some time to reconsider our choices. Ruminate over what we’ve done in our past, and how best to move forward in our future.”
I couldn’t nod politely—I couldn’t give him the satisfaction—because that would make him think he was getting through to me. It was immature as hell, but I just stared back at him with a straight face. I’d let him talk because he was my father and I respected him, but that didn’t mean I’d let him think he was winning.
He said, “You’ve been living your life like you’re still in college, Colin. You have a roommate. You’re working in someone else’s finance department. You’re getting dumped by your roommate’s little sister. Does that sound like adult behavior?”
“Yes.”
“No.” He stroked his chin, the way he always did when he was working toward putting the exclamation point on his argument, and said, “Ditch the roommate, Col—you’re not in a frat. Leave the easy job behind and take your place at Beck. Trust me, it will feel good to stop this juvenile rebellion and settle into your grown-up life.”
“Listen, Dad—”
“And for the love of God, I think it’s time to stop dating around. Find a nice girl who wants the same things as you and get serious.”
The rage was coming back. “I did stop dating around—that’s what Olivia was.”
“No, she was convenient.” He said it like I was a clueless child who had no idea what I was talking about. “She was living with you, for God’s sake. Low-hanging fruit like everything else in your life. Make an effort to be more, Colin. To be better.”
I opened my mouth to go off, because I was fucking done, but I had to swallow my words when Brinker Hartmann, one of my dad’s buddies, approached with a huge grin on his ruddy face.
“Well, if it isn’t the young Mr. Beck. It’s been a while since we’ve been graced with your presence. How are you, Colin?”
I tried for a smile. “Good. Leaving, actually.”
My dad, who was clearly about to ditch my mom and sister for his friend’s company, said, “Are you going to go tell your mother you’re leaving?”
I glanced toward the club. “She’s sitting near the bar, so sure.”
They both laughed, but my dad’s eyes were serious. I started walking away and he said, “Think about what I said, Col.”
“Oh, I will,” I said without looking back. “Just as soon as I’m floor-licking drunk.”
Olivia
I opened the magazine and flipped to my column, Oh, Olivia!, totally geeked out to see my headshot and my words on the slick, glossy pages. Who would’ve ever thought I’d be writing an advice column? I started reading, even though I already knew every word.
Dear Oh, Olivia!
I walked in on my boyfriend with another girl, but he says he’s sorry and won’t stop begging me to come back. We were technically “on a break” that weekend after a fight, so in a way it wasn’t cheating.
I want to get over it and get back together because I do love him, but every time I look at his face, I’m triggered and have a flashback of the awful sex-face he was making when I walked in on them. Totally brings on the ick factor and I find him repulsive.
How do I forget that face? Help!
Oh-no-that-O-face
Athens, GA
Dear Oh-no-that-O-face,
Take it from a girl who once walked in on her boyfriend eating cake off his side piece’s incredibly flat stomach; the ick factor isn’t going away anytime soon. ICK! You can’t unsee that I’m-about-to-orgasm nose flare and heavy-lidded gaze any more than I could unsee my man’s tongue lifting frosting out of her belly button.