Page 10 of Floodgates

“Yes.”

“And will probably always be.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “I told you to tell him we were just taking a break. He didn’t need to know the why. No one but you and I needed to know what was up.”

“No, he didn’t, and that’s my mistake. I thought he would appreciate my honesty and we’d still be friends.”

“I think in any kind of breakup, people take sides. I haven’t seen any of your friends either.”

“Yes, but we’re just taking some time, we’re not breaking up. We’re not done.”

He kept saying that, but I didn’t believe him, and I wasn’t sure he believed it himself anymore. When he had first moved out, there had still been hope, but now, after four months, both of us settling into our separate lives, it was time to use the word “over” because that’s what we truly were.

“Okay,” I said quickly, not wanting to reiterate, again, that we were through. I had told him that day, that week, when I moved in with Matt and Eric until all his stuff was out of my house, and again when he’d come by once for his mail before the change of address kicked in. We were finished. I had always figured myself for the type to forgive an infidelity, but it turned out that trust was the bitch, not the actual act. I could forgive him fucking his friend on our couch, but wondering if he was going to do it again, that was where the problem lay. Out of sight, I always wondered what, or who, he was doing. So whereas he was talking about us getting back together, I was simply working on remaining friends. I hoped he’d get on board soon before even that wasn’t possible. “I gotta go. Do you want to talk to Katie again?”

“Please,” he answered, and I was going to pass her the phone, but he stopped me.

“Hey, real quick.”

“Yeah?”

“You know we’re going to talk about Dimah Mashir when I get home, right?”

Something else that he had no say in—where I worked and with who—that I didn’t have the energy to deal with. “Sure.”

“No, Tracy, really.”

“Okay.”

“Good. I’ll see you Saturday.”

What was I supposed to say? Thanks? I couldn’t say I loved him, because it wasn’t true anymore. “Great.”

Apparently that was enough because he hung up, leaving me to sit there and wonder if trying to be his friend was really in my best interest. Maybe just cutting him out of my life altogether would be, as Matt said constantly, the smartest thing. Hard to know what the best answer was: cut your losses and run or stay and try to build something new on what had been. Everything would have been clearer if I just had some coffee.

Chapter 2

A NURSE came in and dressed my wound, then gave me a tetanus shot that hurt more than getting grazed by the bullet, and when she was done, she told me to hold on for the doctor. Translation: sit tight for the ice age. When my phone rang again, I was relieved it was my buddy Ira Kohn and not my brother.

“Hey, my mom just called me. She was watching the midday news and said that your office was shot up? Is that right?”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

“What the hell is going on?”

“You know what’s going on,” I answered, my voice dropping. “Think about it.”

He was quiet a second and then came a long sigh. “Oh, I get it. Wrong office.”

I grunted.

“You guys should move down to the diamond district or something. People have to be buzzed in if they even want to look at a stone. Or Chinatown—you can work over a dim sum place.”

“How would that be helpful?”

“You like dim sum.”

“So clever today, when I almost fuckin’ died,” I growled at him.