One-point-five years married to a half-German man working in an advertising firm. Slated to become a partner within the next two years, and at his age—Julienne endures Iris's paeans to this man and swims upstream against memories of cuddling in bed. The sheer disaster of Iris' hair in the morning. The way she didn't make Julienne conscious of her shape or weight.
Over salmon salad Julienne breaks her silence to say, "You don't sound happy."
Iris breaks off mid-laugh. "Now why'd you say that?"
Projecting. Bitter. "Because I remember what you sounded like happy."
"We were together for all of three months and we were twenty. I grew up; I grew out of… it." Iris slots her smile back together, piece sliding into piece jigsaw-neat. "I think I know myself a bit better than you do."
"I came ou
