Minutes later, the bell over the door chimed and Bryan walked in.
My first thought was that he looked like hell. The kind of hell that comes from not sleeping, not eating, not knowing what to do with yourself when the life you thought you had turns out to be a lie. His clothes were wrinkled, he hadn't shaved, and there were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there the last time I'd seen him.
He spotted me and walked over. Slid into the booth across from me.
"Elena."
"Bryan."
We looked at each other, two strangers who knew each other's worst secrets. Two people sitting in the rubble of the same explosion, trying to figure out which way was up.
"You look like shit," I said.
He laughed. "Yeah. You too."
"Thanks."Bryan ordered his coffee black. The waitress set the mug down, walked off, and the space around us settled. We didn’t talk at first. He just watched the steam rise from his cup, and I watched him. The diner’s noise filled in the gaps with the scrape of cutlery, the low hum of conversation, the steady sizzle from the grill.
A minute passed, maybe two.
"Thank you for coming all this way," Bryan said finally, still not looking up. "I know it's stupid. I know we could've just... talked on the phone or whatever."
"It's not stupid."
"It's just…" He stopped, rubbed a hand over his face. "I've been feeling like shit. Obviously. And I know things with Angela weren't good. They hadn't been good for a while. The drinking, the lying, all of it. Part of me knew something was wrong, even if I didn't know what."
He wrapped his hands around the mug and squeezed.
"But part of me still hoped we'd turn it around. You know? Part of me thought maybe we'd hit bottom and we'd climb back out together. Stupid, right?"
"No," I said quietly. "Not stupid."
"I just, God…" His voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat. "I guess I just wanted to see someone who'd understand. Someone who knows what it's like to... to look at the person you married and realize you never really knew them at all."
I looked at him across the table, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the way his hands gripped that coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
I understood completely.
"I keep thinking about all the little things," I said. "All the moments I should have seen it. The times he came home late. The times he was distracted, distant. I told myself he was stressed. Work stuff, you know? And maybe he was. But he was also—" I stopped, took a breath. "He was also…" I didn’t want to say it. Not to Bryan. " I didn't see it. Or I didn't want to see it."
Bryan nodded slowly. "Yeah."
We sat with that for a moment. The specific loneliness of being betrayed by the person who was supposed to be your safe place.
"I'm not going to ask how you're doing," Bryan said. "Seems like a stupid question."
"It is."
"So, I'll just say…" He looked up at me. "Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy."
"I gave Angela a chance to do it herself."
"I know. I suppose she tried." He shook his head. "The night before you sent the video, she was a mess. She called me crying. She couldn't even speak straight, probably drunk. I kept asking her what was wrong, what happened, and she just... she wouldn't say. Kept sobbing and apologizing but wouldn't tell me for what. I thought she'd finally lost it. Thought maybe I needed to call someone and get her help."
He took a sip of coffee.
"Then when I got your message... I understood."
I didn't say anything.
