I felt like I was coming undone, like an old sweater unraveling into a pile of yarn. My nose falling on top of my lips, my eyes rolling under a chair.
Sonny spoke in warm, fluid sentences like a gentle ripples on a lake. Each thought ran into the other giving no room for a response. I stared at his mouth, watching the words form like smoke signals in the air.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
I traced the rim of my water glass with my index finger and stared out the window. A man and a woman fought on the sidewalk. The man looked old enough to be the woman’s father. I couldn’t hear their words, but they seemed to be lovers.
“I don’t think,” I said.
“What’s that suppose to mean? Everyone thinks.”
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know to say. I don’t know what to do.”
“So basically you’re telling me that you don’t know.”
I smiled. It was the first time I’d smiled in a long time. I hadn’t even noticed before then. It was inappropriate but undeniably present. “What do I think about what? About time and space.” My heart rose to my throat. I could feel it trying to push its way out through my mouth and present itself to him.
“I know this is hard. It’s hard for me too, but I think it’s going to happen eventually. It’s better sooner than later.” Sonny looked around like he was nervous. Maybe he was expecting someone.
“Why do you say that?” Sonny and I had been dating for just over a year. We met at a friends going away party. He was funny and charming in an old-fashioned kind of way like the roaring twenties tumbled into the 21st century.
“We’re growing apart. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“No, I haven’t.” I hadn’t noticed anything. I thought our relationship was going well. Everything was right on course. Sure I was out of town more frequently for work, but I never noticed any difference when I came home. I fully expected that we’d get married. I picked out the names of our children and spent my spare time planning our wedding.
Sonny never mentioned marriage, but I just assumed. It was the next step. You can’t just date forever; something’s got to happen eventually. This wasn’t the something I expected.
“I don’t believe in any of that friends crap. I think we should just go our separate ways.” His eyes darted around that room. They’d land on me for a brief second and then bounce off again.
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “I’ve got to go,” he said. He dropped a few bills on the table without counting them. “This should cover the check.” He stood up, weaved through the maze of crowded tables and walked out of the door. He didn’t say goodbye, it’s been nice knowing you, have a good life or anything like that. After a year, he just walked out. Disappearing into the bright noonday sun, he never looked back.
I erased his number from my cell phone and tried to erase him from my heart.