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“This is fine,” he said quickly, and then cracked it open and took a sip. “Mm. Good. Bubbly.”

“What do you want, Randall,” she said, impatiently.

“Right,” he conceded. “Well, I guess I would like a little closure. I know I didn’t leave under the best of circumstances, and I should have done a better job communicating with you about how I was feeling, but I was in a weird place. I kind of freaked out and made some very impulsive choices.”

“I’d say…” Maye added.

“I want to apologize for how I behaved. It was the wrong way to go about the changes I wanted in my life.”

Maye’s scowl softened. She was prepared to hear a list of excuses and then maybe, possibly, a half-hearted ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you…’ speech, but this was better. “Well, that’s a very mature step towards reconciliation. Why didn’t you tell me about the furniture store? It was so embarrassing and hurtful that you couldn’t share that with me. I had to learn about it from Sandra.”

“Yeah…” Randall lowered his eyes. “I was pretty embarrassed myself. And angry, resentful…lots of feelings. I think that I just didn’t want to talk about it. I was so mad. My whole life was built around taking over the family business. Then, suddenly, there was nothing. I can’t really explain it other than I freaked out. I handled it all very poorly.”

“Mmhm,” Maye confirmed. “Well, I hope you’re being truthful. I guess I just have to take what you say at face value. It will be quite a while before I can really trust you again, though.”

“That’s totally fair,” Randall said. “I didn’t want to come over here and hurt your feelings again, but I also wanted to say that during this time apart, I have missed you, but I am not here to try to get back together. I think we would be better as friends. I hope that’s okay…”

Maye sighed. “Well, that’s actually quite a relief. I feel the same way. I was not the best version of myself while we were together.”

Maye eyed his casts as they sat quietly. “So,” she said, pointing to his arm and neck, “are you okay?”

“Oh, this?” He looked at his arm. “Yeah, I mean, it’s a standard shoulder spica cast. It’s pretty common after shoulder reconstruction surgery.”

“Should reconstruction?” Maye repeated enthusiastically.

“I don’t know how much of the airlift rescue they showed on TV,” Randall said, “but at one point during the evacuation the helicopter pilot slammed me into a tree and absolutely shattered my shoulder.”

“And your neck?” Maye asked.

“This cervical collar? This is mostly precautionary, I think…”

“Well, you look ridiculous,” Maye smiled.

“Yeah, it all makes it pretty difficult to function,” he said. “My parents are helping quite a bit. That’s where I am staying, by the way. And that leads me to another thing I wanted to ask about…”

Maye’s chest tightened as she anxiously awaited more information.

“I was hoping to pick up a few things I left here?” he said.

Maye gasped at the memory of shoving his clothes into a large trash bag and then distributing them into donation bins around Millinocket, Maine. “Well, that depends what you are looking for…” she said slowly. As she recalled the satisfaction in giving away so many clothes to people who could use them, her nerves wore off and pride set in. “I actually donated a lot of the stuff you left here.”

“I guess I can’t really blame you for that,” he said.

“You’re welcome to look around to see what’s left, if you’d like,” she offered.

“I might need a hand,” Randall directed his eyes to his arm.

Maye helped him pack a couple boxes that he said he would pick up another time and gather a few sentimental items that she carried to the door for him. She put them in a bag and placed it on his good shoulder.

“Thanks, Maye,” he said. “So you’re good? You’re doing good?”

“Yeah,” she said, nonchalantly. “I’m doing really good.”

“We made the right call,” Randall said, nodding.

“We??” Maye said, peeved by his comment. “Yeah. We definitely did,” she opened the door and made a path for him. “Goodbye, Randall.”

She watched him sit on the bench where he was when she arrived home. He struggled to take his phone out of his pocket and then maneuver it against the fingers on his immobilized arm. Should I feel bad? She thought. Not feeling enraged was progress. When he left, an enormous crater was unearthed. Their relationship had been masking how isolated she had become. She felt more settled now; more grounded. Deeper roots. With just one slight potential complication: Chris. He didn’t seem like the jealous type, but you never know how someone will react when an ex comes into the picture.