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long while.
    It’s quickly becoming apparent why Olivia is thinking along the lines of professional help. I’d taken psychology last fall and the first stage of coming to terms with any great loss is denial. Only it’s supposed to be followed by anger and then bargaining, until you’re finally traveling along the healthy road to acceptance.
    On the other hand, Bernard’s attitude sounds a lot like mine when this really hot sophomore named Josh was my boyfriend for two weeks during the fall term. The only problem was that Josh never knew anything about the relationship. This certainly made the breakup a lot easier, at least for him.
    “I understand that what you’re going through is really tough,” I attempt to reason with him.
    “I’ve grown accustomed to his face,” insists Bernard. “He almost makes my day begin.”
    Okay, not only is Bernard speaking about Gil in the present tense, but I’m pretty sure he’s quoting from
My Fair Lady.
“Yes, I understand it’s very difficult right now. But each day will get a little easier, believe me.”
    However, Bernard isn’t hearing a word of my constructive sympathy. “Gil has taken an apartment in downtown Cleveland. I’ve driven past the place several times. The brick building itself certainly isn’t anything to look at. There’s a dentist’s office on the ground floor. Or maybe it’s a periodontist. Anyway, I keep trying to get him to invite me over, because, you know, I could help him decorate and arrange things. But he insists that it’s not a good idea right now.”
    “And does he say
why
it’s not a good idea?”
    “Well, actually, he won’t take my calls anymore. So I’m presuming he wants to settle in first.”
    Great. Bernard is openly admitting to stalking his ex. Next he’s probably going to confess that he’s tapped Gil’s phone.
    “So I want you to call him and see if he’ll let
you
visit.” Bernard hands me the cordless phone. “I’ve blocked our number so it won’t show up on his caller ID. And afterward you can report back to me with the necessary information.”
    “What do you mean,
information
?”
    “You know—what he’s doing, his appearance, how the rooms are arranged.”
    “Why don’t you just hire a detective?” I ask in a tone that’s meant to be sarcastic. Although when Bernard seems to be actually considering the idea, I’m obliged to say, “I was only kidding.”
    But in his sorrow Bernard has lost the ability to laugh easily. Instead, he continues to divulge his strategy. “You and only
you
can get inside to see if he’s unpacked everything and plans on staying . . . if he’s installed a pole lamp and hung pictures, or if it’s all just rather makeshift and temporary-looking.”
    “I’m not going to
spy
on Gil.” I would do practically anything for Bernard, but here I have to draw the line. “It’s wrong!”
    “So I’ll go to confession and say five Our Miss Brooks and two Hello Dollys!”
    Bernard lets out a walrus-sized sigh, as if I’m single-handedly destroying all of his carefully thought-out plans. “I’m not asking you to
spy
on him. Simply go visit him and then come back here and tell me about it,” he implores.
    “Of course I’ll go and see him at some point.”
    “Fine, then.” Bernard takes the phone out of my hands and starts pressing the buttons.
    He’s memorized Gil’s new number?
    “Ask if you can go over there tonight,” he instructs, and hands back the phone.
    I click the off button and disconnect the call. “But I just drove all the way from Cleveland after being up all night. I haven’t unpacked yet. Or stopped at my house. Or looked in the shed. I’m exhausted from exams and final projects.” And from relationships, I would add, if Bernard could go off-mission for a second and listen to me. Not a chance.
    “Hallie, this is
urgent
! I’m in
desperate circumstances.
” Sounding all too much like Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire, he retrieves the phone