“He doesn’t love you,” Kevin said to me. “Love is what you do.” “Maybe you’re right,” I said, and contemplated the idea. It was a stab at first, but after that, it felt almost like a relief to say it like it was. “How dare Kevin say that. He does love you,” my mother said on the phone when I told her. “But love is a verb,” I said. “So what does it matter?” “It matters,” she said. I thought maybe she didn’t know. I experimented with the idea as I walked around. He doesn’t love me and that’s why he’s like this. The plain truth.
