The Idea of You

by Robinne Lee

He nodded, slow. His eyes swollen, red. What damage I had done. “How did we get here?” I heard myself say. “This was only supposed to be lunch, remember? This was only ever supposed to be lunch.” “You,” he said, his voice frayed, foreign. “Me?” “You. You let me unfold you.

The last Saturday in April, I skipped the annual fund-raiser for Isabelle’s school, which was a first. But I could not go out and socialize and pretend that everything was fine when my heart was bleeding. I lied and told her I was coming down with something, and retired early. Yet sometime in the middle of the night, when I had assumed she was sleeping, she came into my room and climbed into my bed. Her arm wrapping around me, her breath warm at the back of my neck. “Mommy? Are you crying?” I was. “Because of Hayes?” I nodded.

It was late the following Thursday when I heard from him again. Out of nowhere, shortly after midnight, he texted.