The days pass and people whisper “she’s doing so well,” “she seems really happy.” The expectations are miraculously low. I am grateful that people tip toe around the issue. My boyfriend and I broke up. Let’s not talk about it.
Let’s talk about my evenings.
I do not have to attend to my usual nightly phone call to recap our days and report on our jobs, our moods, and occasionally, our feelings.
I hung on his every word, wishing and hoping he’d end the conversation this time with “Good night, Stephie. I love you.”
He said it sometimes, but not enough. Can it ever be enough?