How she never replied to my emails.
How she avoided all our old haunts on college breaks.
How she basically broke my heart and then threw it into a garbage can in some random park for good measure.
At thirty-three, I should be over this.
And I am!
At least, I thought I was. But I wasn’t expecting to see Molly ever again.
Marian, who is a doll, cries, “That is so sweet! You two were adorable.”
“Not as adorable as you two were,” I say back, with a smile.
Marcus throws one of his buff, former-quarterback arms around Marian. “Want to sneak in a dance before the entrées, pretty lady?” he asks.
I wonder if they are rekindling something this evening.
I hope they are.
They’re both single. Neither of them can stop touching each other. If I had to place bets on who from our class might end up together someday, it would be these two.
Georgette and the Frenchman also excuse themselves, leaving Molly and me alone to either pick at our scallops or find something neutral to talk about.
I would ask her to dance—I’m a total dance hound—except I have dignity, and the vibe is a little excruciating, now that I’ve brought up the unmentionable. Especially because I can’t stop looking at her hair falling over her shoulders in that dress.
I need to get away from her.
“I’m gonna go say hi to Jon,” I say, rising. Jon is one of my best friends from high school, and we hung out all last night with his boyfriend, Alastair, and our other BFF, Kevin. So there’s no pressing reason to greet him, other than not wanting Molly to sense that I still, inadvisably, seem to have a crush on her.
I thought she’d be relieved to see me go, but instead she grabs my sleeve.
“Hey,” she says. “Um, before you go, I just… I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
All arousal flees my body. I feel uncomfortable. Being pretend-nice while internally seething with resentment is a position of power. Being apologized to makes me feel like a victim. Like the pathetic boy who got his heart broken.
“For what?” I ask, trying very hard not to seem vulnerable.
“You know, for how things ended. For disappearing.”
Yeah, Ireallydon’t like this. I wasn’t courting pity. I was trying to shame her for being a rat. Those are not the same thing.
Nevertheless, she still looks the way she did when we were alone together and she dropped that too-cool-for-school act.
I’m disturbed by how much I’m still touched by it.
I shrug. “It was fifteen years ago, kid. No worries.”
She shakes her head. “It was shitty of me. I’ve felt terrible about it ever since. And I heard you were… not good for a while.”
I lean back in my chair and stretch out my legs. I guess we’re talking about this.
“I was pretty torn up about it for a minute.” I spare her the details.
She nods, avoiding my eyes. “You might not believe me, but I was too.”
She’s right. I don’t believe her.
