“Seventeen years later, your face showed up on my phone.”
I rubbed both palms against my jeans.
“And you swiped right.”
“Yes.”
“To tell me Nora died. That was the whole plan?”
“One coffee. Tell you who I was. Tell you what happened. Thank you for being her friend.”
I looked at her.
“And then?”
Claire gave a tired little laugh.
“Then you ordered another coffee. You stayed until they started stacking chairs around us.”
“That doesn’t answer why you lied, Claire.”
“No.”
Good.
At least she wasn’t trying to pretend that it did.
I leaned back in the chair.
“If Nora had never existed, would you have swiped right on me?”
Claire watched me silently for several seconds.
“I don’t know.”
That hurt more than a nicer answer would have.
She continued before I could respond.
“I probably wouldn’t have stopped on your profile long enough to find out.”
I turned my face away.
“But Nora got me to that coffee shop,” she admitted. “She didn’t make me order another coffee. Or stay until they stacked the chairs around us.”
I stood up.
“What happened after that doesn’t erase what happened before it.”
“I know.”
“There you go again.”
“Sorry.”
I picked up the photograph.
“You kept deciding what I was allowed to know.”
Claire didn’t try to defend herself.
After a moment, she said, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“At first, because I didn’t want you to think I was using Nora to get close to you.”
“You were using Nora to get close to me.”
“To meet you. Yes.”
“And later?”
Claire stared down at the gray carpet.
“Later I was scared you’d leave.”
