“No, it isn’t.”
After another pause, she said something that almost broke me.
“You always figure it out, Chris.”
I desperately wanted that to remain true.
Once the call ended, I sat in the car until I could no longer tolerate the weight of my thoughts.
Then I started driving.
I had no particular destination.
Moving through traffic simply felt easier than remaining outside the office where I’d just been humiliated.
Eventually, I pulled up near a diner Sarah and I used to visit during our marriage.
It hadn’t changed much.
Its red booths were cracked, the coffee was terrible, and Marlene, the longtime waitress, still seemed capable of remembering everyone’s regular order.
I took a seat beside the window.
Marlene approached with the coffee pot.
“You look like somebody stole your dog.”
“Worse.”
“Wife?”
“Already lost one of those.”
She studied my expression.
“Job.”
I nodded.
