Still Friends

Chapter 1: The Bowl Between Us

I was reaching for the check when Jonah slid the bowl of crab meat toward me.

"You're not paying," he said.

"I'm not eating."

His mother, Diane, set another platter on the table between us. "You've barely touched anything."

"I'm fine, Diane."

I was not fine. I was hungry, tired from the drive, and trying not to look at the man across from me as he cracked another leg with the careful pressure of someone who had memorized exactly where the shell would give.

The dining room at the Tideglass smelled of Old Bay, lemon, and the lemon-scented cleaner Diane used on the tables after closing. I'd spent enough nights here as a teenager to know the sound of every loose floorboard. I knew which window stuck in damp weather and which booth had a split in the vinyl. I also knew Jonah's mother had placed me in the seat facing the door, the one I always used to choose.

I had come for a cardboard box and the blue wool coat I'd left in the apartment above the restaurant. I had told Jonah that in a text. He'd replied, Dinner first? Mom made too much crab.

I should have heard the trap in the word mom.

Jonah set a neat mound of crab meat in the bowl. He'd done that for me since we were kids, though I'd never asked him to. When we were twelve, he used to insist it was because I was slow with the crackers. By twenty-eight, he'd stopped pretending it was anything but affection.

His mother looked at the bowl, then at us.

"I knew you two couldn't stay apart," she said.

I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth.

Jonah kept his eyes on the crab.

"Diane," I said, "we're not back together."

The smile left her face. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Jonah said.

I looked at him. "You knew she thought that?"

He set down the cracker. "I didn't tell her we were."

"That isn't what I asked."

Diane folded her napkin once, then again. "He said you were coming over. I assumed—"

"I'm sorry," I said. I meant it, but I didn't want the apology to hide the answer. "We broke up."

"I know you did." Diane glanced at Jonah. "I thought you'd worked it out."

"We haven't."

For a few seconds, the only sound was the kitchen fan rattling over the pass-through.

I had once imagined being able to say that without feeling as if I were breaking something. Instead, I felt the sentence go through the room like a dropped glass.

Jonah reached for the crab bowl. "You should eat. You drove three hours."

"I can open it myself."

"I know."

He didn't move the bowl away. He didn't give it to me, either.

Diane stood. "I'll bring coffee."

"You don't have to," I said.

"I know." She gave my shoulder a brief squeeze as she passed, the way she used to when I was upset about school or my father. I let her do it. Then I watched her disappear into the kitchen.

I turned to Jonah. "Why didn't you tell her?"

"I didn't want to make dinner awkward."

"It was already awkward. You just wanted me to be the only person who knew."

His jaw tightened. "That's not fair."

"Which part?"

He looked down at the table. "I didn't think she'd take one dinner as a sign we were getting back together."

I took in the crab on my plate, the clean bowl between us, the restaurant where I'd learned to ride a bike in the parking lot after closing. "You know she likes to believe we're inevitable."

"I know."

"You could've told her we weren't."

"I should have."

The admission came quickly. The consequences didn't.

He had said he should have told me when he changed his mind about moving, too. He'd said it after I had paid the apartment deposit and given notice at my job in Bellwether. After I had carried my boxes down two flights of stairs and found the new city's streets by walking them alone.

Diane returned with coffee. She set a mug in front of me and didn't ask if I wanted it.

I wrapped both hands around it. "I'm leaving in the morning."

"I know," Jonah said.

"You can bring the box downstairs before nine."

"I can."

"And please don't tell your mother that means we're doing better."

He glanced toward the kitchen. "I won't."

Diane was back at the pass-through, watching us. I lifted my mug, mostly to give my hands something to do.

Jonah pushed the crab bowl toward me again.

I didn't touch it.