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“It looks good on you. You should smile more often.”
“I used to.”
TJ stretches his arms out on either side of him, resting one on the back of my chair. “And does that have something to do with your MMA-watching ex-boyfriend?”
“Do you always ask this many personal questions to people you don’t know?”
“People find it easier to open up to a stranger. It’s like going to confession. You lay out all your sins and feel better when you’re done.”
“You don’t feel better because it’s a stranger. You feel better because you believe the priest absolves you of your sins. Huge difference.”
“Why don’t you ask me something, then? I’ll tell you a secret.”
I set my empty beer bottle on the bar. “Fine. Why order a glass of whiskey if you’re not going to drink it?”
“I used to be an alcoholic.” TJ shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I come here to celebrate what I’ve overcome.”
“Or you just like to torture yourself.”
Though he doesn’t respond, TJ’s eyes meet mine and tell me I’m right. In their glacial depths, pain reflects back at me.
My stomach clenches. “Why are you punishing yourself?”
“I guess I like the pain. It’s a reminder that I’m still here … in the fight.”
“Do you use fighting metaphors for everything in life? I bet you quote Rocky on the regular.” I drop my forehead into my palm and groan. “You have Eye of the Tiger as your ringtone, don’t you?”
“Alright, smartass. My turn, and you have to answer. What’s your story? Why are you in New York?”
“No story. Just here to visit my best friend.”
His eyebrows lift, prompting me for more.
I sigh. “My best friend moved here after she graduated high school. I haven’t seen her in a while and I miss her.”
“So why aren’t you with her right now?”
“She thinks I’m arriving tomorrow.”
“And she thinks this because …”
“Because that’s what I told her.”
“Why are you here now?”
I breathe in and out several times, picking apart the crumpled napkin in my plate. I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Maybe TJ’s right. Maybe opening up to someone, anyone, would make me feel better. Besides, it’s not like I’d ever have to see him again.
“My ex and I were together for four years. We were engaged. Everything was going according to plan. Then I got pregnant. We were careful, you know. I was on the pill, but they always warn you about that small possibility. Joe didn’t want me to keep the baby, but I couldn’t kill it. I couldn’t just pretend like it never happened. So he broke up with me.”
“You’re pregnant?” TJ asks, his eyes darting from my empty beer bottle to my stomach. “You know that could hurt the baby.”
I shake my head and tell him, “There is no baby.”
TJ’s eyebrows collapse. “What do you mean?”
“I had a miscarriage.” I shrug, trying to seem as nonchalant about my devastation as TJ was about his addiction. “I lost everything.”
“You didn’t lose everything. Plan A didn’t work out, so now you move on to Plan B.”
