Disconnect

"Stop pushing me!"

"I'm not pushing you. I'm just trying help."

"Justin, you're not helping."

"Look, just tell me - - "

"Please! I really don't think you can understand this."

"What's to understand? Just tell me what's going on in your life and I'll totally understand."

"It's not that simple. And besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Livvy, boo-bear, yes I would -"

"Please don't call me that," Olivia snapped.

"What? Boo-bear?"

"No, the other thing you said."

"Livv - -"

"Justin!"

— click —

The connection was cut. For all Justin knew, Olivia had hung up on him. For all Olivia knew, it was Justin who ended the call. Either way, both of them were pissed. And neither one was calling the other back. It was a stale mate and they both knew it.

This is what Olivia hated about relationships — long distance or otherwise. When things were good, she could be content. But if there were misunderstandings or if things got messy, or pissy, like tonight, she hated it. Her life was already a shit show. Anytime more crap got piled on top of everything else, Olivia couldn't stand it and it put her in even more of a sour mood.

Nothing helped. Listening to music depressed her. Watching episodes of 'Love or Money' just frustrated her more.

That's when she gave up and tried drifting off to sleep. Just as she got settled in and felt that first bit of calm coming over her, her phone chirped. It was a text from Justin.

The bright light from her phone screen hurt her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he wrote.

Olivia exhaled deeply. Shit, she thought, why does have to be nice to me?!

"Me too," Olivia messaged back. "I think I'm just in a bitchy mood, sorry."

"Are you gonna be ok?"

"Yea, I'm gonna try to sleep," she typed.

"Okay, me too, I guess."

Justin sent a heart emoji.

Olivia closed her phone and flopped her head back on her pillow.

- - - - -

"My fellow Americans, every married man in this country should be entitled to a side piece, just like your President." Olivia's father stood at the podium and spoke to the fawning crowd gathered in the rose garden. "Take it from me, the comfort of more than one woman makes a man feel ten feet tall!"

The crowd cheered. Olivia was stunned. There, in the front row, seated right next to the First Lady, was her mother. They were both laughing hysterically as they applauded the President's boorish remarks.

Olivia couldn't watch. She turned away and headed for her room. Somehow, Justin and Agent Tripp were both there, holding her up as she tried to walk with weak knees and a churning stomach.

"I see why you couldn't tell me anything," Justin whispered. "Your life is an epic fuck up!"

"Tell me about it," Olivia gasped trying to dodge the giant, 600-pound butter-creamed cinnamon rolls that were tumbling down the corridors of the White House, smashing tables and chairs and ripping Lincoln and Washington portraits off the walls.

"Here you go," Agent Tripp gestured toward the open door to Olivia's room. "You'll be safe now."

Olivia was undressing herself, stepping toward her bed with eyes closed, when she smelled the Vice President's perfume.

"Livvy dear," the woman purred, "here we are again . . ."

"Oh God," Olivia shivered at her abuser's touch.

". . . and I have you just where I want you."

"No!" Olivia shook herself awake. She sat up in bed, panting, her outburst still ringing in her ears.

Olivia sobbed as she tried to shake off the ugly dream.