Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Do you have something to say, Oliver? I didn’t quite catch that.”
He whirls on me. “I said, maybe if I’d had a dad who was actually around, I would be able to light a goddamn grill!”
“I’m teaching you how to light it now.”
“Walking over here and doing it for me is not teaching me.”
“Well, maybe if you’d followed my directions, you would have gotten it right the first time.” I press the pads of my fingers to the backs of my eyelids as my head starts to throb. I need water. A cold shower. Sleep.
“Right,” he snaps. “Because you expect me to be perfect.”
I sigh, exasperated. “I don’t expect perfection of anyone, Oliver. Certainly not you.”
He recoils as though I’ve slapped him. I reach out for him.
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Both of you, enough.” Natasha appears on the deck. “Ollie, Give your dad a break. That’s not what he meant, and you know it.”
He flinches. “You’re seriously taking his side?”
“I’m not finished.” She turns on me next, her nostrils flaring. “And you, don’t you think working with Ollie to light the damn grill would’ve been better than watching him try for fifteen minutes? Your commentary was not helping.”
“I gave him instructions,” I say. “I wanted him to figure it out on his own.”
“Sitting on your ass while he struggles isn’t helping him.” She pauses for a deep breath. “Ollie, you could have communicated your needs better. You should have asked for help with the grill instead of fumbling with it for so long. But—” She looks to me. “—you’ve been gone a long time, and although Ollie’s words were ill-timed, he has a point. You haven’t been around. And until you guys talk through your issues, it’s going to be a thing between you.”
Shame flickers under my skin. It’s like she’s peering directly into my soul, counting my sins.
“I’m trying,” I say softly.
Her smile is sympathetic. “I know you are. But it’s not enough to do nice things for him. You guys have to talk about the hard stuff.”
I glance at Oliver, standing by the grill with his head down and his hands in his pockets.
“Got any tips for getting to the hard stuff?”
She squeezes my shoulder, and the touch warms my heart. “Start by being present. You can’t have a conversation if you aren’t listening to what the other person is saying. And you’ve been in your head all day.”
More like you’ve been in my head all day, Natasha.
I nod.
“You’re right.” I turn to my son. “Oliver, I’m sorry I didn’t handle the situation very well. I know I can be…abrupt. But I’m going to try and do better. For both of us.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”
Natasha loops her arm through his.
“We can all stand to do a little better,” she says, meeting my gaze. “Myself included.”
After a surprisingly pleasant dinner, Oliver heads down to the dock to make a phone call, leaving Natasha and me in the kitchen, elbow-deep in warm water and suds. We work in tandem, her washing and rinsing the plates and grill tools while I dry them. I know I should be wary of how much I enjoy being alone with her, but I can’t bring myself to feel anything but gratitude for her company.
“Thank you,” I say, “for what you said earlier. I think it really helped.”
“You guys would’ve worked it out eventually.” Suds roll to her elbows, dripping onto her clothes. With her hair swept up into a tousled summer bun, she looks effortlessly beautiful.
“I’m not so sure we would have. The two of you have a deep, loving connection. He trusts you. I really appreciate your help with him.” I pause, struggling to put my emotions into words. “I’ve always had difficulty being open about my own feelings. Maybe it’s a doctor thing, wanting to stay strong for my patients. But with you…”
“What about me?”
I shrug one shoulder as she hands me the final plate to dry. “You make me want to be more open. Not just with you, but with my son. I meant what I said before. I want to do better. I need to do better. So thank you for helping me realize that.”
Natasha smiles. “I’m glad I could do that for you.”
I set the last plate down and hand her a clean towel to dry her hands. Our fingers touch, and neither of us pulls away.
“You should think about going into mediation after law school,” I tell her, only half-joking. “You’d be great at it.”
“I don’t know about that.” She blushes faintly as she towels off her arms and pats at the soap suds clinging to her shirt. “I’m hopeless enough at making my own decisions. I can get people talking, but when it comes to guiding them toward a resolution…”
“Don’t discredit yourself. After law school, you’ll have a lot of options. Mediation could be one of them.”