Because Oliver Likes Her Better.
290 Words
It’s not like I’m desperate for his love and approval, but I can’t help but notice that my father really seems to care about her well-being. Kind of more than he cares about mine.
I make the mistake of telling him I saw her the next day at the breakfast table. I then make the mistake of saying how different she was and how damn emaciated she looked. He doesn’t say anything, but he looks concerned, and he excuses himself. I listen carefully through the wall as he makes a phone call. I don’t know who it’s with, but I know it’s about Riley.
“Hey,” he says, sounding uncomfortable. “This is Oliver... Oliver Bray, of Bray Farms.” He pauses. “Riley used to ride here... Yeah, exactly.. Well, I was just wondering how she was doing.”
A pause. A long one this time. I hold my breath.
“No,” Oliver finally says, sounding shocked. “No... I don’t understand. Are you sure? She’s not... she’s never even...”
I wonder what the person—her mother, I presume—told him. She must still be speaking; he remains silent.
“There must be some other reason,” he insists when she’s finished. “Her father never would have let her act this way. She wouldn’t retaliate to his death by acting up. I knew her well. Trust me.”
He waits. I wait.
“But that still doesn’t make sense! She’s... she was so opinionated. She wouldn’t just let a boy...” More waiting. “Yes, I understand. Of course. Well, how would you feel about her coming back to Bray to ride?... Yes, I realize that... Well, maybe if I talked to her. Is she home?”
Doubtful.
“Her cell, then?” Scribbles. “Yes, thank you. ’Bye.”
A second later: “Joey! Stop eavesdropping and go feed the horses!”
I don’t get to hear the conversation that matters—only the one that doesn’t.
Story of my life.
- Writer
