“You, though.” Michael lets out a sigh. “He’s decided to care about you.” Her nails dig into her arms. She will not cry;she will not cry. “You can blame him for many things. But do not blame him for wanting to care for you. He’s let himself care for so little. Let him—please.”
“I can’t,” she insists, hoarse.
“Try, God damn it.”
“He’ll be better without me,” she whispers.
“You don’t get to make those decisions for other people.”
A choke, heat of a sob, in her throat, desperate, and her arms tighten around her knees—
Her phone buzzes on the bench between them.
Michael sighs again, seeing the name.
Lili doesn’t look down at it. She just blinks back tears.
When it ends—he speaks. “Whatever happened, you two can discuss it,” he urges. “Talkabout it, don’t just ruin things like this. I know how this can feel, I’ve been married for almost a decade—”
She flinches so hard it hurts.
I didn’t see myself marrying her.
And the idea that, eventually, in the end, she too will be a woman that he didn’t see himself marrying.
“Just tell me,” Michael entreats. “What happened? Truly, what could be so bad that you need to freeze him out like this? That man moves heaven and earth for those he cares about—just talk to him.”
Lili tries to take a breath; it catches sticky in her lungs.
He deserves to let go of her.
“I cheated on him,” she whispers.
Looking straight ahead, she watches the ferries push through the river. Anywhere but the man beside her, as she feels him stiffen, realizing what she’s said. It’s cowardice, she supposes, that she only hugs her legs tighter, gaze blurring from the glare of the sun on the river, that she does not look at him.
Instead, she closes her eyes.
Takes a breath, and then another.
Inside her head, she hears the rush of water, and when she opens her eyes, Michael is gone.
An immeasurable weight settles on her.
Her actions, meeting consequences.
Her life, doors closed; paths changed. A bright space, gone.
And so, we move.
When she opens her apartment door, she hears her friends. Warm chatter in the living room, discarded shoes cluttered in the hall: Jackie’s platform Tevas with snaggled Velcro straps; James’s cleats from his recreational soccer league; Amina’s well-worn Maryam Nassir Zadeh mules,faded electric lime green. One of her rolled canvas painting tubes leans against the wall, beside a crumpled Blick Art Materials bag.
As the door shuts behind her, Lili’s tote slumps down her arm.
Her keys are loose in her hand. Her phone is silent.
“Hey!” It’s Amina, popping out into the hall. Behind her, Lili hears the others’ laughter. “We’re all going to go play volleyball at the park, we were just waiting for you—”
Lili starts crying so hard it hurts her chest.
