Diego asked me to dinner on a Friday.
Not the kind of dinner with the weight of declaration behind it. The kind between people who had established something honest and were finding out what the honest thing looked like going forward.
"The place near the market," he said. "Seven o'clock. I want to show you something."
"Show me what?"
"You will see at seven," he said.
I told Rafael about it on Tuesday morning, because telling Rafael things was something I was doing now, not out of obligation but because the not-telling was a pattern I was finished with.
"Dinner with Diego," he said.
"Yes," I said.
A pause. The kind I had learned to read.
"Okay," he said.
"You said okay but your pause said something else," I said.
"My pause said I am working on it," he said. "The okay is genuine. T
