Page 126 of Let's Kiss and Tell

What I’ve found from this new document I’ve been nursing is that I quite enjoy the act of sharing my thoughts. It helps give new perspective to what I’m writing and allows me to have a connection to my stories instead of simply dissociating.

My elevena.m.alarm alerts me that time is up, and I’m satisfied with how much progress I’ve made. I then notice a missed call from Oliver. I call him back, tapping my pen on the side of my mug until I hear his voice on the other end.

“Hey,” Oliver says.

“Hey, sorry, I was in the middle of a story. What’s up?”

“All good,” he says. “I just wanted to catch up since we haven’t talked since Sadie’s birthday.”

I figured as much, and I’m sure Oliver hasmanyquestions on his mind.

“Did Sadie have fun?”

“Oh, she loved it. She won’t stop asking us to get her a pig…”

“That’s what happens when you rent a petting zoo,” I warn.

“I think Quinn is seriously considering getting her a pig.”

“How much are pigs?” I turn to my monitor and ask Google the exact same question.

“That would be crazy, right?” he says. “If we got a pig?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” I say. “Oh my god, there’s a pig farm in SoCal that sells teacup pigs.” I start scrolling through the pictures of piglets that even I must admit are probably the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

“Send me the link,” Oliver says, defeated. “Anyway, Sadie couldn’t stop talking about Lucy…”

“Oh yeah?” I smile. My six-year-old niece’s opinion means more to me than it should. “What did she say?”

“Lucy was the only grown-up that actually played with her,” Oliver says like he’s reciting words verbatim.

“She’s great with kids, isn’t she?”

“Marsh, Lucy’s amazing,” Oliver says incredulously.

“Are you surprised?”

“No,” he says. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks. I mean, it’s not serious or anything,” I say, trying to remember that later this month I’m going to have to curate a fake breakup, so I don’t want Oliver gettingtooused to the idea of Lucy.

Or maybe that’s advice more so for myself.

“I know it’s early,” Oliver says. “But seriously, you two are good together.”

“You know who doesn’t feel that way? Mom.”

“I know,” Oliver says like he’s heard his own earful from her. “She’s just close with Julia.”

“It would be nice if she could take my side…heractualchild.”

“Yeah, well, you know how Mom is.”

My mother gave Oliver and me everything she could in her power as we were growing up. She’s objectively a successful woman with her own company. She spends an obscene amount of money on monthly facials, possesses an elegant, classy style, and loves her sons dearly. But she’s stubborn as hell. Once my mom has an opinion about something, it’s virtually impossible to change it. To my mother, I wasted the best years of Julia’s life and tossed a bright, beautiful, caring woman by the wayside.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Hi.” Lucy greets me at her front door, her face lit up, with a pair of white jeans, a white T-shirt, and white toenails.