Page 4

“No, it’s fine. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t realize you thought so little of me.”

Vince turns to me with Angry Eyebrows™, which is his way of saying, get off the phone.

“I raised you on my own,” my mom is saying. “I did everything I could for you. I suppose it’s easy to forget all that when you’re living in a beautiful house with someone who can buy you whatever you want.”

Before I can say anything, Vince holds out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

I hesitate briefly, then pass it over.

“Elena,” he says severely.

I can hear her protesting through the phone, but I can't make out the words.

“I got your messages, and we’ve discussed this. If you have a problem with the settlement offer, you need to speak to your attorney.”

He pauses as she protests some more.

“You can talk to Sophie about whatever you like, Elena. But leave her out of our divorce. Your lawyer has the latest offer. Mine will be happy to discuss it with him. Good night, Elena.”

And he hangs up and hands my phone back.

“Wow,” I say, half-smiling.

“What?”

“I’ve never actually seen someone successfully end a conversation with my mother.”

He huffs a laugh. “Lots of practice.” Then he picks up the remote and turns on the TV.

“Hey, Vince?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He looks at me. “Anytime, Soph.”

Halfway through the movie, I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open. Between exams, the drive, and my mother's phone call, I'm exhausted. I tuck my feet under the blanket and lie on my side with my head on a cushion.

I should probably go to bed, but the couch is comfortable, the fire's still going, and Vince is sitting close, delighting, as always, in Die Hard. I glance over at him, at his stupidly broad shoulders, and notice his arms again.

It's been four months since I've seen him. Maybe that's why I'm noticing things I didn't notice before. Or maybe I've just spent too much time around college boys who think washing their sheets is a grand gesture. Whatever it is, I'm being weird.

I pull the blanket up to my chin and turn my attention back to the television.

Tomorrow, I'm going to try very hard to be normal.

For now, I close my eyes. Just for a minute.

Two

Vince

Ican tell Sophie is falling asleep beside me. First she laid down, now her breathing has slowed and evened out. I glance over, and the blanket is pulled up to her chin, her eyes closed.

We’re an hour into the movie and I’m barely paying attention. My thoughts keep drifting back to Elena’s voice on the phone, that familiar note of performative hurt she hits whenever someone pushes back.

I’m irritated. We’ve been negotiating this settlement for what feels like forever, and I thought we’d finally made some progress at the last conference. My lawyer put forward a revised offer, and hers took it under advisement. But here she is again, calling me directly, trying to negotiate a better deal than the guy she’s paying two hundred and fifty an hour. It’s the same routine every time. And she has the audacity to use Sophie to try to get through to me, too. Poor kid. She’s remarkably tough about her mother’s utter selfishness. It’s actually amazing how well she’s turned out.