“Oh,” Olivia said softly. She was glad it wasn’t a video call, and he couldn’t see her face. She had no idea what her expression looked like right now.
Her first thought was to ask what his father thought of her, but she sensed that could be a disaster. Olivia waited, floundering a little. Eventually, Henry spoke.
“I don’t think anything I do will ever be good enough for him,” Henry said. “I just wish he could see my work for what it really is. Artists bring beauty to the world. They interpret our feelings and emotions. They translate them in such a way that enhances our understanding of these emotions. Sometimes, the art is good enough that it inspires new feelings all on its own.”
“Insight,” she said softly. He'd just spoken the words that lived in her own heart.
“Exactly,” Henry said. He sounded cheerful, suddenly. Olivia felt a warmth growing in her chest as the shared emotions grew between them.
“It must be so difficult to have your father treat your work as a joke,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Henry sighed. “It’s okay. Really, I should be used to it by now.”
There was a brief pause that quickly became tense as it was loaded with uncomfortable questions.
“What about your father?” Henry asked, trying to change the topic. “Your mother didn’t mention him today … you didn’t either.”
Even though Olivia should have been expecting this question, it took her by surprise. It was almost like getting hit by a train. It hit her so hard. She trembled, wrapping the blanket around her even tighter.
“He died,” she said, her voice firm. “We planned to go on the Piston Hurricane together. You know, the one in upstate New York?”
“Yeah, I know the one.”
“He died before we got the chance. I …”
Olivia’s voice broke. She could imagine the questions that had to be flying around in Henry’s head right now, but he was too much of a class act to ask them. After years of being callously asked “how did he die” by people who didn’t actually care, she appreciated that Henry didn’t push.
“I wish I was there right now,” Henry whispered. “I want to comfort you, put my arms around you … I can’t imagine how you must be hurting.”
Tears poured down her cheeks, and Olivia sniffed as she tried to bring herself back under control.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You can hug me when we see each other next. Tomorrow, yeah?”
There was a sudden silence that made Olivia feel as if Henry had hung up. She pulled the phone away from her ear to check, and the call was still active. The silence that leaked from it was absolute, though.
“Henry?” she asked, starting to feel fear rising in her stomach.
“Yes … tomorrow. Are we still on?”
“You tell me,” she chuckled, wiping her nose. “It looks like neither of us has thought this through.”
“Definitely not,” he laughed. “I’m winging it like crazy over here. I have no idea what’s going on.”
Olivia laughed harder, pleased that Henry was teasing her again. She liked the fun side of him. The casual banter they shared made her feel at ease in a way nothing else ever had.
“Okay,” she said, getting her tears under control. “Where are we meeting?”
They set up the date for the next day. Olivia found herself wondering why she was enthusiastically booking the third date when she had spent the day trying to talk herself out of it.
Well, no. Not trying to talk myself out of it. But definitely riding a tide of exuberant love and bitter self-denial.
“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep,” Henry said, clearly yawning. She giggled.
“You’re the one who sounds asleep,” she laughed.
“Big day, stressful evening,” he said. “Anyway. Thanks for the talk.”
“No problem,” Olivia said. She wanted more of this … so much more. She wanted to see all of him, every hidden piece. She wanted to know everything.