“What you had with her was real?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m glad.”
He looked genuinely surprised.
“I mean it, Jeffrey. I wouldn’t want another woman’s entire life turned into a mistake just because two teenagers were too scared to say one sentence to each other under some bleachers.”
He Reached for My Hand
“Margaret knew?”
“Eventually.”
“What did she say?”
Jeffrey almost smiled.
“She said we were two of the stupidest people she had ever heard of in her life.”
I laughed. He laughed, which turned into coughing again. Peter, standing by the door, laughed too.
“She sounds smart.”
“She was very smart.”
Margaret Died in 2019
Pancreatic. Fourteen months.
“After,” he said, “I thought about calling you probably two hundred times. I had your number. I had your address. Peter looked it up for me in 2021.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know if I had the right.”
“You could’ve tried.”
“I know.”
What I Said Then
I shook my head at that ceiling.
