“Why two?” I asked him once.
“Two means, are we okay?” he said. “You knock back. Means yes.”
I never skipped it.
At twenty-two he moved into his own apartment, ten minutes away by bus. He worked four mornings a week. He had friends, routes, habits I didn’t know about.
I never stopped checking on him.
“Two means, are we okay?”
And I never let my own life start. I dated, but the second it got serious, I found a reason to end it.
Then one afternoon, Jamie caught me.
“You broke up with Emily.”
“It wasn’t working.”
“You said that about Sarah too.”
“Since when are you keeping track?”
And I never let my own life start.
He looked at me, completely serious.
“I don’t want to be your job.”
I stopped smiling.
“You’re not my job.”
“Then stop acting like you can’t have a life because of me.”
