“I believe he cares about you. I don’t think that’s the same thing.”
“You’ve never even met him.” she snaps defensively.
“I don’t have to. I’ve heard enough about him from you to never want to see him.”
The words hang there. Neither of us reaches for our food.
“You make him sound cruel,” she says.
“I don’t think he is. People don’t have to be cruel to hurt someone.”
She looks away. The restaurant hums around us, cutlery against plates, I hear a birthday song starting near the back.
“You know what the worst part is?” she says. “I don’t even get angry anymore. Whenever he cancels our plans I just stay home put on a movie and drink.”
She says it so simply, like she’d misplaced an umbrella, like rearranging her life around his absence has become as ordinary as checking the weather.
“
