Russ had never asked for details about Cherry’s divorce. (Probablybecause he didn’t want to talk about his own.) Cherry had given him the highlights: arguing, long-distance arguing,Rachel.
All Russ had told Cherry about his ex-wife was,“I think she always kind of hated me, and I mistook that for ‘interesting.’?”
“Is this the first time he’s come back?” Russ asked.
Cherry nodded her head.
“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes were burning. She closed them.
“It’s going to get easier,” Russ said, running his fingers through her hair. “Not immediately. Immediately, it’s going to be horrible. But it will just keep getting less horrible, and eventually it will be mostly okay.”
Cherry hummed, dubious.
“I never got any distance from my ex,” he said. “Because of Liam. It was relentless—I’d see her every couple days, and we were constantly texting each other... I wonder if that made it better or worse.”
“It sounds worse.”
“Yeah, but I built up some immunity. And I got to process my anger and guilt. You haven’t had a chance to process anything.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I’ve processed.”
It was Russ’s turn to look dubious.
“Why are we talking about this?” Cherry asked. She felt rankled. Poked. Naked in a bad way.
Russ had just shaken his head and smiled, already stroking her shoulder and back. Soothing her. “We’re not talking about it.”
Now, sitting on the kitchen floor—not processing, not thinking, and numb around the edges—Cherry heard her phone chime. She had everyone silenced but work and Russ, and probably still Tom. She took her phone out of her pocket, hoping that it wasn’t Tom saying he was on his way back.
It was Russ.
“I was torn about whether to check in with you today or give you some space. I decided to check in. I hope you’re doing all right.”
Cherry sat up a little to type.“I’m fine. He’s gone already.”
“That was fast.”
“We didn’t get started. I think he chickened out.”
Russ sent a medium-sad emoji.“That sucks. I’m sorry.”Then he sent,“How are you, really?”
“On the floor, nearly immobile.”
“There’s the truth—I knew I’d find it.”
“You got me,”she sent.“I can only lie once.”
“Do you want some company? Or is today a floor day?”
Cherry smiled. She realized that she’d been petting Stevie for so long, there were tracks in the dog’s white fur.
Cherry had spent too many days like this. On the floor. On the couch. Sitting on the front steps some nights after work when she couldn’t bear to go in.
“I’ll take company,”she typed. “But not here.”
“Liam’s at a birthday party, and I’m free until 8. Come see me.”
