“Why?”
“Because everywhere I know belongs to my life with him.”
That settled it.
I started the engine.
“There’s a diner about thirty minutes north.”
“A diner?”
“Open all night. Terrible coffee. Excellent pie.”
She considered that.
“Take me there.”
So I did.
The diner looked as though it had been preserved from another decade.
Chrome trim.
Red booths.
A jukebox nobody used.
An exhausted waitress named Marcy who looked as if she’d seen every possible version of heartbreak.
Karen ordered coffee.
I ordered coffee and apple pie.
“You said the coffee was terrible,” she reminded me.
“It is.”
“Then why order it?”
“Commitment to the experience.”
She shook her head.
For the next hour, we talked.
Not about Michael.
Not at first.
We talked about ridiculous things.
Daniel’s first girlfriend.
The time he tried to microwave a fork when he was twelve.
My disastrous attempt to start a landscaping business at nineteen.
