“See?” she said, quietly. One word, no performance, and I finally stopped talking. She wasn’t asking me to entertain the yard or give a speech beside the grill, she explained; she wanted to stop feeling as though the truth embarrassed me. “Why can’t you say, ‘Yes, she’s my girlfriend,’ and let that be enough?” she asked, and I opened my mouth without finding an answer that deserved the space.
“I need you to figure out whether you want to be my boyfriend,” she said. I immediately reminded her that I had already told her I wanted this, and she looked tired in a way that frightened me. “You told me you wanted to date me,” she said, “and now I’m asking whether you can live like that’s true.” I looked down at the cup on the counter because it was easier than watching the woman I loved explain why she still felt uncertain beside me.
