You had sex with him even though you knew I liked him. I didn’t think I said the words out loud but she swivels to stare at me, her face flat and blank as a reptile’s, her hands raised. She shrugs. You weren’t ever going to do anything about it. I helped you. I wish I hadn’t spoken, that I could draw the words back into my mouth. She is angry with me and I am uncertain what she will do with the anger. You could text him a photo, she says, and the words are so nasty that I feel them physically, like stones.
