"You're right," Olivia agreed. "I'll respond and see what happens. For all I know he's a robot, and I won't hear back from him."
Hanging up the phone, Olivia took one more swallow from her wine glass before turning to the keyboard and typing out a response to Luke39.
"Hi Luke, thanks for contacting me. Your profile looks very interesting, and I would love to chat further. Perhaps we could exchange a couple of messages on here and then, if you are comfortable sharing a phone number, we could talk "in real-time"?"
She hit send and then closed her laptop. Oh well, she thought. What will be will be.
Chapter Four
She
S he pushed the button on the toaster down after inserting the bread and reached for the coffee pot.
"Hey, did you make my lunch?" her husband asked as he entered the kitchen. "I'm running behind, and I can't be late again this week."
"Yes, it's in the fridge." She answered. "So where were you last night?"
"Nowhere," he responded in a distracted tone while adding milk to his coffee-to-go mug.
"Nowhere?" she asked quietly.
"Just met up with a friend," he said. "I have to go now; not sure what time I'll be home."
"That's okay. I have a hair appointment tonight anyway," she said, forcing lightness into her tone. "Time to get my color touched up again."
Her voice tapered off as she realized he was already walking out the door. Staring at it as it closed behind him, she ran her fingers impatiently through her hair. What an idiot I am! She thought. I should confront him and tell him he either gets his act together or we need to take a serious look at where this relationship is going. Even as she thought it, she knew she wasn't ready to go down that road. How could she, when she had experienced an intensity of emotions with him that she had never felt in any other relationship? The passion, the excitement, the sheer joy that came from feeling so incredibly loved and adored! If she walked away from him now, she would lose any chance of ever experiencing that kind of emotion again. As long as she kept trying there was a chance, no matter how small, that he would go back to the loving, passionate, and attentive man she had fallen head over heels in love with a short two years ago.
She finished getting ready for work and headed out the front door, no closer to resolving the turmoil that raged continually inside her.
That afternoon, as she ate her lunch in the cafeteria at work, her cell phone began to ring.
"Hi Mom," She answered with a grin, "Aren't you supposed to be deep in a crossword at Aunt Sherry's?"
The good humor drained from her face and her eyes widened with surprise and fear as she listened to her mother speak.
"Okay, which hospital are you at?" She demanded. "I'll be there as soon as I can!"
Her boss looked at her with concern as her voice carried across the room, and she stood up abruptly.
"Everything okay?" Wanda asked. "That didn't sound very good!"
"I don't know," She responded. "They think my Dad had a heart attack. I have to go now."
"Do you need anyone to drive you?" Wanda reassured her. "Do you need us to call anyone?"
"No, I'm okay," She replied distractedly, as she discarded her half-eaten lunch.
Hurrying towards the lunchroom door, her heart in her throat, she walked briskly to her office, pausing only long enough to grab her coat and purse from the hook on the back of the door, and left the building. As soon as the Bluetooth in her car hooked up to her cell phone, she punched in her husband's number. His phone rang and rang, finally going to voicemail.
"Where the hell is he?" she mumbled as she left him a message. "Hi, can you call me as soon as possible, please? I'm driving to the hospital. They think my Dad had a heart attack."
Although traffic was light, it felt like it took forever to get to the hospital and find a parking spot. By the time she was standing in front of the information desk, she was a bundle of nerves, and her hands were shaking. She gave the woman at the desk her father's name and waited while his name was searched on the computer.
"He's on 4D4 ma'am," the information clerk informed her.
Without waiting for directions, she flew down the hallway towards the elevators. She arrived at the unit a few minutes later. She saw her mother in the waiting room and immediately went up to her and wrapped her arms around her tightly. They stood there for a few minutes, offering each other much-needed strength and support.
To the casual observer, it would not have been immediately apparent that the two women were related. Where her mother had grey, wispy hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, her own carefully manicured brunette style was shot through with burnished highlights that grabbed the light whenever she moved her head. The older woman had a strong, patrician face that gave nod to her British background, while her daughter had delicate features, a tiny nose, and eyes that tended to avoid contact with others.
She pulled away slightly and took her mother by the arm, leading her to a row of chairs to sit down.
"What did the doctor say?" She asked. "Do they know if it was a heart attack for sure?"
"They're running some tests, but they believe it was," her mother replied. "However, they think it may have been small enough to serve as a warning."
"That's good news, isn't it?" She asked.
"I think so, but right now they aren't saying anything for certain," her mother sighed, "They're just talking about 'maybe' and 'likely' and 'hopefully' right now."
"When will they be able to tell us more?"
"I don't know. They took him to run some more tests and said the doctor would come to see us when they get some results."
"Do you want me to go and get you some coffee or something?" She asked her mother.
"No, I'm okay, I'm just so glad you're here," her mother answered, leaning her head against the waiting room wall and tiredly closing her eyes.
She reached for her purse and pulled out her phone. No phone calls and no messages from her husband. Where the hell was he? She could use some support right now.
She picked up a magazine and flipped idly through it before throwing it back down on the low table. Standing up, she paced the length of the waiting room, before sitting down and picking up the same magazine again. After a few minutes, she realized she was not going to be able to concentrate on anything, and she resigned herself to staring at the industrial-looking clock on the wall.
She felt her mother's hand as it reached out and touched hers. Sitting together, each caught up in their thoughts and fears, they waited.
Chapter Five
Olivia
H er first impression was just how his voice was so much deeper than she had imagined. It was robust and manly, seeming to come from the very center of his being.
"Thanks for agreeing to chat with me Olivia," he greeted her. "It's so much more personal than email."
"I agree, exchanging email always leaves me wondering if I'm chatting with a 13-year-old boy in his mother's basement," Olivia laughed, "You can just never be 100% sure."