Steps

He rushed across the street way ahead of me. He was at the door of the restaurant before I'd finished closing the car door. And I hurried to catch up with him. It was then that it dawned on me that I'd never really been with him. All those times. All those meals. All those sexual liaisons. He'd never really been there. Or acknowledged that I was.

He was wearing jeans with an old t-shirt tucked inside them. I always hated tucked in shirts, but for him I made an exception. As for me he'd made so many.

It was a fancy place and we were both under dressed, but this was jersey. There's no such thing as a dress code when you're a paying customer.

We ate the same as we always did, quietly. A few words about business and then we just ate our food until we were full. Then he paid the bill and we left. And he walked ahead of me the same way he had when we'd gotten there. Only this time I didn't try to catch up with him. I knew I never could so long as he didn't want me to.

That was the first step in letting go. There'd be so many of them before I'd actually do it.