“She deserved to remember she could choose.”
My throat tightened.
Daniel nodded.
“She can.”
Michael smiled.
“Yes.”
That night, after the event ended, Michael walked me home.
Not drove.
Walked.
Chicago had entered spring.
Trees along the street had begun flowering.
When we reached my gate, he stopped.
“Would you like coffee?”
I asked.
He looked surprised.
“At your house?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“That is generally why people ask questions.”
He smiled.
Inside, I made coffee.
We sat at the kitchen table.
The same one.
The birthday cake table.
The confession table.
The reconciliation table.
Michael looked around.
“I miss this room.”
“The room doesn’t miss you. I asked.”
He laughed.
Then he became serious.
“Maggie.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want the old marriage back.”
That startled me.
He continued.
“The old marriage had too many things hidden inside it. Too much of me pretending secrecy was responsibility.”
I watched him.
