Then I told him about Brazil.
My mother wanted me home for Christmas. My brother had a new baby. My father had started saying things like, “We won’t be around forever.”
I hadn’t decided whether Milwaukee was still where I wanted to build my life.
Graham listened.
He didn’t ask me to stay.
I appreciated that.
I also wondered whether he cared enough to want me to.
Outside the restaurant, cold wind blew off Lake Michigan.
He walked me to my car.
“You deserve to figure that out for yourself,” he said.
It was kind.
It was mature.
And somehow it left me feeling lonelier than I’d expected.
Sunday, we went bowling.
He actually owned a bowling bag.
I laughed so hard he threatened to abandon me in the parking lot.
Then he taught me how to throw without nearly breaking my wrist.
I scored seventy-three.
