When We Met
Chapter 36
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When we met…
…you weren't kidding about the breakfast. I was stuffed as I finished my quiche.
We'd talked quietly, avoiding major questions. You told me about Zion, and Moab, Portland and San Francisco.
But alas you turned to me, setting your fork on your plate.
"Can you…will you tell me what happened?"
I took a sip of my coffee and set it on the granite. I knew you waited until I finished eating. Because you knew that I wouldn't eat once we broached that topic.
And that time the words came out, though not quite the same as they usually did. I wasn't as robotic or as anxious about the responses I might get.
Somehow, I knew you wouldn't pity me. I knew you'd be empathetic and understanding.
You closed your eyes and grabbed my hand, squeezing it as I finished.
It was sobering, comforting, and relieving, as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders in a way that it hadn't been for over a year.
We finished breakfast without another word.
But you never let go of my hand…
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