She surveys the room. “Look how packed it is. If I were any sort of businesswoman, I’d be jealous.”
“It’s just an illusion. This place is microscopic.”
She nudges me with her elbow. “I had a nice time, you know. Yesterday.”
Hope hoists a flag in my stomach as she holds my gaze. Still, I have to ask. “Nice in comparison to... dental work? Doing your taxes?”
She laughs and winces at the same time. “Sorry.Niceis a terrible word.”
“In the context of everything I told you, believe me,niceis the best word ever.”
Our pancakes arrive a few minutes later, huge stacks of syrup-soaked buttermilk pillows. Sticky and caramelly, they’re daubed with whipped butter.
Callie studies them earnestly. “Okay,nowI get the queues.”
We start to eat. I try to gauge her frame of mind, read the light and shade of her body language like a sundial. Is she as happy and relaxed as she appears? Unfazed, even, by my revelations yesterday? I can hardly believe she could be.
Eventually, chest drum-tight, I ask if she’s had a chance to think about what I told her.
She wipes her mouth. Turns to face me. “Yes. And I don’t want to let it stop what we’re doing. This, us.”
Relief rushes through me, and yet... “I know it might be hard to believe what I’ve told you, Callie.”
She takes my hand. “No, I—”
“I’ve been trying to think... of a way I can prove it to you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.”
She sips her coffee, waits.
“Tomorrow night, there’s going to be a burst water main on Market Street. Middle of rush hour, gridlock. My sister’s going to get caught up in it, miss her yoga class.”
I see Callie’s mind turning this over.Consequences aside, she’s thinking,there’s no way he could bring about a burst water main, even if he were that nuts.
“Joel, you really don’t need to do this—”
“I do,” I insist. “Just so you know I’m not crazy.”
•••
As we’re finishing our coffee, Callie asks about Vicky. All at once I’m grateful to be facing the window, rather than struggling to meet her eyes across a table.
“We broke up eight years ago.”
“How long were you together?”
“Three years.”
“Were you happy?”
I stare out at the frosty street. “At first.”
“Who ended it?”
“She did. I think she just wanted someone normal by then.”
