Jana’s appearance in my office, not three minutes after we’d just finished a zoom conference call with colleagues in London and Los Angeles, was nothing unusual. But I was surprised when she closed the door behind her and took a seat across the desk, rather than just giving her amused commentary from the open door.

As usual, though, she got right to her point. “Okay, woman. Spill.”

“What?” The fact that she jumped right in didn’t mean I knew what she was talking about. “I thought the presentation went well.”

“The presentation was fine,” she confirmed as if the thing we’d spent a week on was unimportant. “You weren’t. Aaron’s comments on the conclusions weren’t just stupid, they were insulting. You should have squashed him like a bug, and you didn’t. What gives?”

“Who cares what Aaron thinks?” I retorted. “The group didn’t. I’m sure they’re going to green light the project.”

“Of course they will.” Again, she dismissed it. “That’s not the point. There’s no reason to tolerate someone who is just throwing out objections from pure spite. You taught me that. I’d have spanked him myself, but when you just let it go, I assumed you had a reason.”

“Maybe I was just feeling generous?”

“Bullshit.”

I tried again. “I wanted to keep the meeting harmonious?”

“You were barely there.”

“I did my slides,” I protested. “Answered all the questions.”

“Frickin’ AI could have done that,” she scoffed. “You sounded like you were reading from a script.”

I’d been with the company longer, and I most definitely did not report to her. The company’s org chart showed we were equals, and I’d had enough. “What the fuck, Jana!”

She glared back at me for a moment, locked in the sort of battle of wills we often found ourselves in. But then she took a deep breath and visibly got herself under control. “Dara. I’m not asking you as your co-worker. I’m your friend. You’ve been distracted for the past three days, and I’m worried. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s –”

“Come on!” Her glare was back. “It’s me here.”

I bit my lip, trying to decide whether to tell her to let it go. I knew she’d go ballistic if I told her what was going on, but we really were too close for me to just blow her off. “Dan’s in town.”

“Jesus!” Her dark eyes glinted. “That asshole! Why’d he come back?”

“I don’t know.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “He wants to talk to me.”

“You told him where to stick it, right?” When I didn’t respond, she pressed again. “Right?”

“I said I’d meet him for coffee. After work.”

Her eyes went wide and I braced for impact.

“Why? Fuck, Dara, after all the misogynistic crap he dished out before you left him? After he put you through the ringer in divorce court? You swore you’d dance at his frickin’ funeral!”

“I know.”

“I know you know! I was there! Helped you through it. Helped put you back together. Remember?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why?” She shook her head, dumbfounded. “You don’t owe that little shit the time of day!”

I looked down at my hands. There was no longer even a divot on my second finger, and the ring I’d worn for seven years was somewhere on the bottom of Lake Ontario. “It’s been six years,” I said slowly.

“Six good years,” she reminded me.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Good years. The best I’ve had. But whenever I think back on my marriage, I just feel this hot tangle of emotions, and it never gets better. Never heals. Maybe I just want a better ending.”

“And you think that asshat will give you one?”

“He did apologize, in his email. God knows, that’s a first.”

“You believe him?” She shook her head. “He wants something. I can smell it. And if you were in your right mind, you’d smell it, too!”

I shrugged. “I assume he wants something. I’m not an idiot. But who knows? Maybe he wants the same thing I do.”

“Then he can give you your house back. And a few years of your life!”

I rose and slung my purse over my shoulder. “I hear you. And I know you’re probably right. But . . . look, I said I’d be there, and I’ll be there. If he came here to be an asshole again, I’ll just leave.”

She stood up and got between me and the door. “You aren’t going.”

I smiled down at my friend. I’d played basketball in high school because I was considered freakishly tall, at six feet. “Yes, I am.”

Jana was four inches shorter, but made up in fierceness and bloody-mindedness what she lacked in height. She growled, “Not without me, you aren’t!”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

She refused to budge. “No. But you need a friend, right there, in case he gets out of hand. Or in case he leaves you crying at the end of it.”

“I haven’t cried in years,” I objected.

“Yeah. Six years. I remember that, too.”

“Jana –”

“No.”

I took a step forward and folded her into a hug, feeling a lump at my throat. Even after all these years, having a friend like this still surprised me, sometimes.

Her arms wrapped around me like a vice. “I put you back together once. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Come with me, then,” I said, strangely happy to capitulate. “You can always take off if we decide he’s harmless.”

“Now you’re talking!”

She convinced me to switch into my sneakers. I normally wear heels so that I look down on even the tall guys in the office, but Jana calls herself a dyke, dresses accordingly, and dares anyone to so much as look at her sideways. I was willing to be unfashionable, so that the two of us looked less ridiculous while we walked.

We were mostly quiet as we made our way from the office tower to the local place that served good coffee and undistinguished pastries. Pastries reminded me of the junk food I’d binged on to feel better, back in the bad old days, so I was just as happy to pass. Coffee would be fine. A cup of coffee committed me to maybe ten or fifteen minutes, nothing more.

It’s coffee, I told myself for the thousandth time. Just coffee.

I was surprised that there weren’t more people sitting outside at the coffee shop; it was a nice enough day. Before I had a chance to comment on it, Jana suggested that we take one of the sidewalk tables.

I thought about it. Less private, but easier to get away, in a pinch. And, maybe, the lack of privacy would pressure Dan to keep his voice down and his temper in check.

“Sure,” I agreed. “You’ve got to let me pay, though. Since you’re acting as my body guard and all.”

“In that case I’ll have a double frappalappa whatever.” She waved her hand expansively. “Sky’s the limit.”

“You will not.”

“Damn. You’re onto me.”

It was the kind of place where you have to go inside and order at the counter, so we went to the front door. When I caught sight of our image in the glass, I bit back a laugh and thought about whether I should tell Jana what I was thinking.

“Welcome to Wilco’s,” the barista chirped. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a large skim latte,” I said promptly. “And shorty here will have a black coffee.”

“Five eight is not short,” she growled as we stepped away to wait for our drinks.

“Eh,” I said, looking at the top of her head.

“I told you I’d kill you if you called me that.”

“Yeah, but you’re here to protect me, so I figured I could get away with it.”

“What were you laughing about, just now?”

“Laughing?”

“Alright, make that ‘trying not to laugh.’”

I convinced her to at least wait until we had our drinks and took seats outside. Once that was done, she set her coffee on the table in a way that suggested a punctuation mark and raised an eyebrow.

“I was just wondering what Dan will think when he sees us.”

She snorted. “Well, let’s see. You’re here to meet your ex for the first time in six years, and you look like a complete girl boss. Glossy hair, perfect makeup, and designer skirt suit in an absolutely killer power red.”

“Don’t forget the sneakers.”

“Noted. And, rather than meeting him alone, you are accompanied by someone he knows to be a dyke, sporting her short summer cut, wearing what I always wear to work.”

“Baggy black trousers, oxford shirt, and blocky suit jacket that looks like it came from the bargain rack at Target,” I summarized.

“TJ Max,” she corrected. “Anyhow . . . I’m guessing he’s gonna think I’ve become your lesbian lover.”

“I suppose he might.” I smiled at the thought.

She gave me an exaggerated leer. “Want to make out?”

I laughed.

“Damn again.” She shook her head regretfully. “You are so wasted on dudes.”

“Ain’t it the truth,” I chuckled. Then I reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“You were right . . . I’ve been completely tied in knots about this. I feel a million times better with you here. And you’ve even got me laughing.”

“Good.” She took a sip of coffee and looked around. “What time is he supposed to get here?”

“Should be any time.”

Wilco was a popular spot to stop for a casual meet-up. Not romantic, particularly, though the wicker chairs had a kind of Paris cafe charm. It was just a good place to meet a friend, or to have an off-the-record conversation with a colleague.

As the office towers disgorged their denizens, one or three wandered in. Young men in suits with phones to their ears, looking important. Women like Jana and me. A few tourists, here and there. They were always easy to spot. No college kids – we were in the financial district, after all.

I kept an eye out for Dan while Jana kept me entertained with a steady stream of comments. She enjoyed people watching, but tended to do it through a sniper-scope. “Jesus! Alligator-skin cowboy boots? Seriously?”

I looked at the man who’d drawn her amused attention and snorted my agreement with her assessment. Real cowboy boots shouldn’t gleam, for God’s sake. It was the sort of affectation Dan would go for, but . . . no. It wasn’t Dan.

A couple women walked in. An older gentleman who looked like a banker. Mr. Gator-Raider.

I looked up and down the street and saw no-one else coming our way. I was sure about the date and time; I’d fretted about this for three days. “Maybe it’s a good thing,” I mused.

“What, that he bailed on you?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m sure he’ll show up. But you know, he was always such a control freak about being on time. He would go ballistic if I was a minute late to something – didn’t matter whether it was important or not.”

“So you think he relaxed?”

I shrugged. “Maybe?”

Two of the women walked out with their drinks. The one with the to-go cup headed for the street, but the other stopped by our table.

“Hello, Dara.”

The afternoon sun was right behind her head, casting her features in shadow. “Uh . . . hi?”

Jana’s mug came down on the table, hard. “Sweet Jesus.”

I shot her a look. “What . . . .”

But that’s when my brain caught up with my tongue. My head whipped back and up. “Oh. My . . . .”

I couldn’t even finish an exclamation.

She continued looking down at me, then finally said, “Mind if I join you?”

I barely managed a nod.

She set her coffee on the table and took the remaining chair. Her movements were graceful, and she acknowledged Jana with a dip of her head.

I sat there, speechless, taking in everything. Straight brown hair. Clear blue eyes. A rose-colored silk blouse that showed just a hint of cleavage, and a high-waisted black skirt that hit just above the knee. I caught the faintest hint of a floral perfume, light and fresh. She was attractive, in a cool, office-girl kind of way.

It was Dan.

The silence stretched too long, and she was the one who broke it. “Dara, please . . . say something.” Her voice was soft, low, and clearly strained.

“I don’t even know what to think.”

“Okay, well . . . .” Her hands twitched, and I could see her make an effort to keep them still. She looked at me, then at Jana, then back. “You look good.”

“So do you,” Jana drawled. “For a guy, that is.”

Dan’s wry smile had been one of those oddball features that had attracted me from the very start. Back before the bad times. It was strange to see it on a woman’s face, and stranger still when formed by plump and glossy lips. But she didn’t respond to Jana’s barb, or move her eyes off of mine.

“What . . . .” I cleared my throat. “What do I call you?”

Just the fact of my speaking caused some of the tension in her face and shoulders to ease. “My name’s Elaine, now.”

I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You could have warned me.”

Her eyes lowered, as if acknowledging the point. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“I’d have come.” I shook my head, as if somehow that would clear my sudden-onset brain fog. “I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing you.”

That smile again. “And now?”

“I’m still not sure I believe it.” I took refuge in my coffee, raising the cup to my lips, sipping, and holding there with both hands. “Why are you here? Is there some reason you thought I needed to see this?”

“Yes.” She laced her fingers together on the table-top; the gesture seemed both natural and feminine. “I owed you more than an apology. I thought an explanation might be better.”

I took another sip. “If this is your explanation, it ain’t helping.”

“It’s part of it.” Briefly, she glanced over at Jana.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask you to. I can understand why she might have wanted a little emotional support.”

Jana set her jaw. “Physically support, too, if she needs it.”

Elaine’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m so glad she had a friend like you.”

“She wouldn’t have needed one so bad, if you hadn’t been such a dick,” she snarled.

I reached over and put a hand on her wrist. “Let me hear what she’s got to say.”

“Pretty quick to buy the whole ‘she’ thing, aren’t you?”

“For now,” I said, in an attempt to reassure her that I hadn’t completely let my guard down.

But I didn’t mean it. There was something about Elaine that seemed genuine to me. Genuine in a way that I realized my husband had never managed.

I could see it in the minute tilt of her head, the tilt of her lips, the softness at the corners of her eyes. She heard what I’d said to Jana, and she’d known I was speaking for Jana’s benefit. She knew I didn’t mean it, and I knew she knew, and there was something about all of that that was . . . maddening. Almost infuriating.

In seven years of marriage, we’d never been able to read each other like that.

“All right,” I growled. “Let’s hear it.”

Rather than answering me directly, she looked at Jana again. “Do you remember the first time you met me?”

“Wish I didn’t,” Jana said sourly. “Had to be the worst hangover I ever had. I barely touched another drink for a year.”

“I imagine,” Elaine said with an understanding smile. “But you were running hot there, for an hour or so. We had quite the argument.”

“I don’t remember,” Jana lied. Or maybe she didn’t; they’d argued every time they’d been in the same room for more than ten minutes. Perhaps she had trouble keeping their disagreements straight in her head.

“It was your usual diatribe on the patriarchy,” I reminded her. “I warned you that it would send my husband into orbit.”

“Making the target irresistible.” Jana grimaced. “Yeah, okay. I remember.”

“I expect you remember that I argued that you were delusional.” Elaine’s tone made it a statement rather than a question.

“Uh huh,” Jana agreed. “Privilege was the air you’d been breathing your whole damned life, so of course you couldn’t see it. Did you decide to find out how right I was?”

“No.” For the first time since she’d sat down, Elaine took a moment to taste her coffee and gather her thoughts. “I knew you were right about how ‘traditional’ gender stereotypes are designed to put women in a cage.”

Jana couldn’t help herself. “You just thought that was where we belonged.”

I almost intervened again, but Elaine didn’t seem to be bothered by Jana’s ’tude. It was almost like she welcomed her honest skepticism.

But she was firm in her response. “If I said so — and I might have; I was pretty hot that night, too — I didn’t believe it.”

However sincere she sounded, that statement hit a nerve. “Could have fooled me,” I said bluntly. “You never supported my career. It was always a competition for you!”

“It was, and again, I’m sorry, Dara.” She made an effort to meet my hot glare without flinching. “Everything was a competition to me. Everything. If I wasn’t the smartest, or the strongest, or the most successful, then I was a failure as a man. If your career was taking off and mine was leveling out, it had to be because of DEI or something.”

“You sound like your old man.” Just thinking of Dan’s bastard of a father made me exclaim, “Jesus! He must have flipped when he saw you in a dress!”

“Oh, he did.” Again she picked up her cup, and looked at it like she was weighing a decision. Then she took a sip, set it down, and said. “That was when I was five.”

“Wait, what?” My mouth was hanging open and I had to remember to shut it. “This isn’t . . . like, new?”

“No.”

“But you are . . . I mean, you were . . . .”

“The guy who fought his way onto the college football team by being the fastest wide receiver the coach had ever seen? The high school track star? Captain of the chess club and the debate team? First in state at the high dive? Yeah. All that.”

Jana nodded as if the explanation made sense to her. “Overcompensating?”

“Something like that,” Elaine agreed. “Look, it’s not like my dad beat me or anything, that day he found me primping in front of my sister’s mirror. He just sat me down and laid down the law. Told me what being a man was all about, and what his expectations were. Maribeth could be frivolous and pretty and soft and that was fine. Maybe even good. But he expected me to be strong, to push myself to be the best, and to be the kind of man that made a difference in the world.”

“A man’s man.” Jana didn’t make it sound like a compliment.

“The kind of man any woman would want as her husband. Any woman at all.” Elaine’s eyes met mine again, and the apology in them was clear. “Even the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Jana snorted. “I knew it. He just wants you back!”

Rather than looking offended, Elaine chuckled. “I kind of doubt my former wife has stopped being a flaming heterosexual.”

“How do you know?” she shot back. “Have you ever considered that we might have something going?”

Elaine shook her head, smiling. “Nope.”

“You’re pretty confident, for someone who hasn’t seen her in six years.”

“I watched you both, just now. While I was walking up the street. While I was waiting for my coffee. Sitting here, just now. You’re easy with each other, but . . . no, you aren’t a couple.”

Jana leaned back in her seat. “One thing hasn’t changed – you’re still a cocky little shit.”

“Well . . . I guess you’ve got me there. I’m trying to be better, but that one’s hard for me.”

“I’ll bet,” Jana drawled.

Elaine just smiled that smile again. “Tell me I’m wrong, though.”

I was still trying to process Elaine’s comment about the ‘most beautiful woman in the world.’ It should have sounded corny. Okay, it did sound corny. But she also sounded like she meant it, and I had to wonder what all that was about. I gnawed on it like a hungry squirrel with a bit of electrical wire while Jana and Elaine had their joust.

But Jana, apparently, decided to throw in the towel. “Yeah, no. We’re not a couple, and yeah, that’s largely because Dara’s – what was your nice phrase? – a raging hetrosexual.”

“Flaming,” Elaine corrected.

“Same difference.”

To my surprise, Jana set down what was left of her coffee and stood up. “Call me afterwards,” she said, looking down at me.

“You’re leaving?” I hadn’t asked her to come, but suddenly I was panicked that she was going.

She pointed her thumb at Elaine. “She’s not gonna overpower you, and she’s not gonna seduce you. So I guess you’re safe.”

I just stared at her.

Her usually sardonic expression softened. “You wanted a better ending. Maybe you’ll get one – but not if I hang around any longer.”

“Jana?” Elaine was looking up at her, too.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you!”

Elaine gave her one more knowing smile. “I know.”

“Mess with her, and I’ll hunt you down.” Giving me a final look, she said, “Call me,” and walked off.

“Same old Jana,” Elaine said fondly.

“I wouldn’t have survived without her.” My voice was sharper than I intended. “You were brutal, during the divorce.”

She lowered her eyes, and refused to fight. “Yes.”

“That’s it?” I tried to tamp down my emotions, but it was hard. “Bad as it was, all you can give me is a ‘yes?’”

“I can say I’m sorry a thousand times, but it won’t change what I did, or who I was. I’m not here to make excuses for any of that. Everything that went wrong in our marriage – every bit of it – was my fault.”

It sounded sincere, but it also sounded manipulative, and I decided to call her on it. “If you threw that out there so I’d disagree, I’m not biting. Sorry not sorry.”

She took a sip of coffee, and her smile had a rueful cast. “Same old Dara, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You could always smell bullshit a mile away.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So that was bullshit.”

“Yes . . . but only superficially. Do I think you were wholly pure and without fault in all of our time together? Of course not. You’re human, too. At a deeper level, though? I’m dead serious.”

This time I decided not to respond. Elaine had dug her hole; she could bloody well find her own way back.

She raised her cup, realized it was empty, and set it back down again. “Okay. True confession time.”

“Good idea,” I said.

“I remember the first time I saw you.” Her voice was low. Almost dreamy. “Second period, Sophomore year. Algebra Two. You were sitting in front, like you always did. For some reason, you looked around, and you caught me looking at you. I didn’t look away, and neither did you.”

“I remember.” She seemed to have wandered from the plot, but Dan had always had an elliptical way of speaking. I assumed she’d get to the point eventually.

“It was the first time I’d ever actually wanted to be the man my father had pushed me to be. I wanted to be the strongest, smartest, funniest, hardest working man the world had ever seen. Because that’s the only way I could imagine you would ever give me the time of day.”

“If you’re trying to somehow make all of this my fault,” I warned, “don’t think I’m just going to take it.”

“Your fault?” She shook her head, puzzled. “Dara, you could no more help being beautiful and attractive than the sun can help being hot. It’s just who you are.” Seeing my protest forming, she held up a hand. “I’m just saying I was smitten, that’s all. And everything I’d ever internalized, since the time I was five, pushed me towards a certain way of dealing with that feeling.”

“It didn’t occur to you to just be yourself?”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Dad told me all the ugly names people used for boys who acted like girls, but even if he hadn’t, I’d have heard them all by the time I’d hit second grade. First grade, probably. I’m sure you did, too.”

“Sure, but . . . I’m not saying you had to act like a girl. I’m just saying you didn’t have to act like some kind of alpha dog. There’s a lot of room between those two things.”

“Dara . . . I remember every boy you dated in high school.”

“And?”

“Were any of them the soft, sensitive types? Musicians, maybe, or artists?”

They’d all been jocks, as he knew very well, and I felt the heat flame my face. “This sounds like it’s becoming my fault again.”

“Again, no. You’re attracted to who you’re attracted to. But because I was attracted to you, I wanted to be better than any of them.” She shook her head. “I was an idiot, and treated it like some epic fantasy story. You were the fair maiden, of course, so I needed to be the best knight in order to ‘win’ you.”

“You make me sound like a prize heifer.” I noticed that my cup was empty, too.

“Stupid, like I said. I wasn’t trying to know you, or understand you. I just wanted to win your attention, your admiration. Your love.”

“Well,” I said practically, “I did agree to marry you. And we went through the ceremony. Wasn’t that enough? Seems like you ‘won.’”

“I thought I had. I thought that I’d successfully remade myself into a ‘real’ man, as if I’d taken myself apart and reassembled the parts into something better. But it doesn’t work like that, or it least, it didn’t for me. It was more like I crammed myself into a tiny space and built a shell around it. But keeping the shell intact – keeping me inside – it never stopped being work.”

Her eyes met mine again, sorrowful and apologetic. “That’s why it was all my fault. I’d proposed to you, taken you to the altar, the whole nine yards, and I’d been lying the whole time. I let you think I was the person I’d built for the rest of the world to see, rather than the person I’d always been inside. I let you base your whole life on that lie.”

I sat with that for a moment, holding her gaze and refusing to look away . . . the same thing I’d done all those years ago, in Mr. Korda’s Algebra class. Finally, I asked the question that mattered the most. “Were you lying, when you said you loved me?”

“No. I loved you from the day I met you.”

“That was lust,” I suggested.

Dan’s crooked smile made another appearance. “Okay, fair. And I’ll even admit that some of it was the thrill of the chase. But I was absolutely certain, when I offered you that ring, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Then why couldn’t you just tell me? Not before we were married – I guess you were still fooling yourself at that point. But afterwards. Wouldn’t it have been better than what we went through?”

She shrugged in a way that communicated resignation, and willingness to face truths that cut like shattered stemware. “I despised myself, and couldn’t bear the thought that you would despise me, too. And hate me, for having lied to you. So instead, I just kept trying harder. Trying to be stronger, smarter, more successful. More dominant. I could see that it wasn’t working – that you were pulling away. But I couldn’t bring myself to change course. I kept trying to prove that I was worthy as a man, right up until the day the judge signed the divorce decree.”

It made sense, as much as anything in this crazy meeting made any sense. I was still having trouble believing that the nicely put-together woman who was sitting across from me had been my husband for seven years. The man who had pursued me in both high school and college.

I found my eyes drawn, strangely, to the smear of lipstick on the rim of her cup. A medium rose that matched her blouse, with a bit of gloss to it. Just enough to look moist. It was a good choice. One made with care and forethought, pairing well with both her outfit and the occasion. The sort of choice I might have made myself. One any woman might have made.

However strange it seemed, the explanation she gave for her behavior – explanation, not excuse! – seemed logical.

More importantly, it rang true.

I realized with a start that I’d just been sitting there, staring off into space, for some time after she’d finished talking. “Hey.” My voice sounded quiet to me. “Want to go for a walk?”

“I’d like that,” she said simply.

We bussed our table and walked out, heading without any discussion in the direction of City Park. She was wearing three-inch platforms and I was in sneakers, but I still had an inch or so on her, and my skirt accommodated a longer stride.

I adjusted to match her step and gave her a sideways look. “What are you doing these days? Still on the executive track?”

She made a rude noise. “What do you think?”

“You’re not exactly fitting the profile of a Cantor Ellis guy,” I said, naming the place where Dan had been working when we split. Cantor Ellis had a very definite “bro” vibe.

“No.” She walked easily, with a sway that seemed as natural as breathing. “I’m at Gloria Trelli’s firm now. They call me an ‘executive assistant.’ I call me a secretary.”

That was exactly what I’d seen, when she walked up the street. Seen, and just as quickly dismissed. “That must be hard for you.”

“Oh, it’s hard,” she agreed. “Maybe not for the reasons you think, though.”

“You were the most ambitious person I’d ever met,” I said by way of explaining my remark.

“I wasn’t, though.” She smiled. “You were.”

“I was?”

“You were,” she repeated. “And, good for you. There’s nothing wrong with ambition, or wanting to get ahead. Nothing wrong with having goals and charging hard at them. But I was just performing those things, because I thought I had to. Because it was expected of me.”

“So, you're done with ambition now?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief from my voice.

She waggled her fingers noncommittally. “I wouldn’t say never. Once you start spinning that flywheel, though, it’s hard to just walk away. I needed to get off. Learn some other skills – ones that I’d been neglecting.”

“Don’t tell me.” I allowed my skepticism to show. “Your typing skills atrophied?”

“They did,” she laughed. “But no, that’s not what I meant. I needed to learn to listen to people again. Hear what they’re really saying. A good secretary – and yes, I still try to be best! – a good secretary gets inside her boss’s head, some. Figures out what she needs to do the job, and makes sure she has it. That’s been useful for me.”

“A novel experience?” We came to a crosswalk and I pushed the button for the walk sign. I realized that I was still poking her to see if any of Dan’s trademark prickliness would reassert itself.

“Some.” Once again, she declined the subtle invitation to fight. “I mean, when I was little, I had to get in my parents’ heads; all kids do. It’s a survival thing.”

The light turned green and the audible signal began to chirp. We stepped into the crosswalk and I said, “Kids only do it so they can outsmart their parents.” I was teasing, mostly.

“True,” she agreed. “Kids can be manipulative little bastards. But that’s survival, too, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. We’d hit City Park, which was laid out around a sizable pond that was home, most of the year, to a large number of Mallard ducks, and their voices were loud as we stepped onto the sidewalk. Again without discussion, we turned left and started down the perimeter path.

Elaine gave a subtle tug to the hem of her skirt, which had ridden up just a bit as we stepped up from the street. Without pausing her stride, she said, “I think girls keep developing that survival skill, and for the same reason. Guys mostly don’t.”

I’d missed a step. “Huh?”

She glanced my way. “You know – getting into people’s heads. Figuring out what they want. Like I said, kids do it because they’re at the mercy of adults. But girls, and even women, are just more vulnerable than men. So they keep that skill sharp.”

I pursed my lips. “I’ve never accepted the idea that I’m some kind of victim.”

“No,” she agreed. “On the other hand . . . did you see those three guys, loitering around the picnic table on the right hand side of the pond?”

“Yeah. And?”

“We both took the left-hand path. You gonna tell me that was coincidence?”

“It was a binary choice,” I protested.

Dan’s crooked smile was back. “Keep your illusions. Personally, I think that kind of situational awareness becomes so ingrained you don’t even think about it. I’m new to the game, so I don’t have that kind of muscle memory.”

“Maybe.”

The days are long in June and evenings stretch, so there was still plenty of sunlight on our path. Elaine fished a couple quarters out of her purse and got some pellets from a machine (“Only give our ducks the good stuff!”).

I laughed at her. It was a far cry from the kind of focused activity Dan had preferred even in his spare time.

Sensing the drift of my thoughts, she laughed along without any trace of self-consciousness.

“You gonna share?” I teased.

“Sure thing.”

I cupped my hands and she surrendered half her stash. At the bridge, I threw out a couple pieces and in minutes a score of waterfowl gathered. The ducks with camouflage markings, and the drakes sporting their distinctive emerald green neck feathers, honking with what always sounded like a Bronx accent. I kept tossing out pieces, watching the birds lunge to get a share.

Elaine watched me for a moment, then laughed and tossed her whole handful with an exuberant throw that caused the pieces to scatter like dandelion seeds in a strong wind. The birds erupted in motion, going in twelve different directions.

I decided she had a point, so I dropped the rest of my bird food over the side, brushed off my hands and leaned on the railing, looking out.

She joined me, looking down to watch the birds, saying nothing that might disturb the moment.

This time, I was the one to break the silence. “You kind of sidestepped earlier, but I’m assuming your dad wasn’t very accepting of your change.”

I sensed her nod in the periphery of my vision. “We’re not speaking to each other. On the bright side, you’ll be happy to know he now thinks you are wholly blameless with respect to the divorce.”

“Like I care what he thinks.” I shot her a glance. “Sorry. How about your mom?”

“With Dad. Naturally.”

“Naturally.” I sighed. “I never got along with your folks, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

After a moment, I asked about his sister, just to complete the circuit of my ex-laws. “Is Maribeth still doing the tradwife thing out in Idaho?”

“Nah. Micah traded her in for a newer model when she hit thirty. She’s over the border in Spokane, now. Washington’s got better social services.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m confident,” she said dryly, “that Jesus had very little to do with any of it.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “I gave her my half of the house sale proceeds, once it finally cleared. Things were tight there, with the six kids.”

That certainly turned my head. “Wow! That was generous. I never thought you two were close.” The late afternoon sun gave her profile a glowing nimbus; I was surprised how feminine her features were.

“We weren’t really close,” she confirmed. “I just felt bad for the kids. It’s not like they chose their parents’ cultural preferences.”

“She was always so . . . I don’t know. Frilly and silly?” It suddenly occurred to me that Dan would have been more likely to agree with that catty assessment than Elaine. “No offense,” I added awkwardly. “I mean, maybe you were kind of jealous of her.”

She reached over and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to be like Maribeth. I didn’t even when I was little.”

The touch had been charged. Like static electricity, but different. I decided I wouldn’t think about that too hard. Impulsively, I asked, “What kind of a little girl did you want to be, then?”

She had a low laugh – more a chuckle than a giggle. “You know. Nice, but serious. The girl in the back who doesn’t speak up, but always gets good grades. Oh, and is actually helpful in group projects!”

Her description brought an old memory to the surface. “Like Ashley Harrington, you mean?”

“Maybe nicer than Ashley.”

I couldn’t help myself. “God! I couldn’t stand girls like that!”

“Yeah.” She smiled again, probably to take the sting out of it. “I know.”

I pushed back from the rail and put a hand on her elbow. “Come on, let’s walk some more.”

She let me lead her. I liked that.

Sunflowers and willow trees. Lily pads where the lake was shallow. High clouds in a field of Dodger Blue. We talked about this and that, avoiding hard topics. I think we needed a break. The ice cream stand had already closed up.

“Too bad,” she said.

We kept walking. “Tell me,” I said. “Are you seeing anyone? Man or woman?”

“It would be woman, still. But no. First off, I gather that most lesbians aren’t really all that interested in ‘ex-men’.”

“Rude. But . . . yeah, I can’t see Jana going for a trans woman, anyway.”

She shrugged. “It’s a point of view, and I’m not in any position to fight it. Anyhow, unless and until I get my life sorted out, I’d just be inflicting all my pathologies on someone else. How about you?”

I shook my head. “It hasn’t been a priority.”

“You don’t miss it?” She sounded curious; nothing more.

“There are things I miss,” I allowed. “A lot of them, really. But work has really taken off, and my next promotion is likely to include a move, either east or west.”

“You still like it? Your work?”

“I love it,” I said honestly. “I can tell that I’m making a difference, and that gets me out of bed every morning.”

“I’m glad.”

We kept walking. At some point I let my hand find hers and hold it.

She didn’t say anything.

Park benches and the smells of barbecue. Picnic baskets on the lawn, and a terrier chasing some sort of retriever. Children laughing.

We were almost back where we started, approaching Center Street from the other side of the lake. The skeevy looking guys who’d been hanging around earlier were long gone.

It had been a strange walk. In some ways, Elaine reminded me of Dan from those early, easier days. In high school, or early on, in college. The smile, the intelligent eyes, the insights that came out of nowhere. In other ways, she didn’t fit my memories at all. I could easily imagine Dan without the overlay of domination and anger that developed during our marriage. I couldn’t imagine him without drive. Elaine felt familiar as my favorite scent, yet foreign as a country I’d never seen.

I thought for a minute. Thought hard, then made a decision. “Can I buy you dinner?”

“Thank you.” She said it like she meant it. “Really. But I’ve got a three hour drive, so I’ll need to be leaving soon.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I said slowly. “You could crash at my place if you want. I’ve got a couch.”

She stopped, then turned to face me. “No, Dara. I promised. Just coffee.”

“It’s not a blood oath,” I retorted. “Besides, I’m not offering to take you to bed. It’s just a sleepover. Girls do those, sometimes.”

“Jana would kill me,” she said mildly.

“Jana–”

She cut me off. “Jana would be right. I promised.”

Her eyes reminded me of Dan the most. Clear and piercing. I remembered them as being cold, but somehow, Elaine wore them warmly.

I said, “You remember, Junior Year, when I was going out with Doug Freeman?”

“I remember all your boyfriends,” she reminded me.

“We hung out together, then. The debate team geeks, and some others like Doug. We were friends.”

Dan’s elusive smile was back. “I was just lurking, you know. I knew Doug wouldn’t go the distance.”

I laughed, but then turned serious. “Okay, I believe you. But maybe, we could try being friends again?”

I could see it in her face – her face that was, tonight, so easy for me to read. Almost like a book that had been written in a code only I could understand. She wanted to say yes.

But she didn’t. “Jana said you wanted a better ending, just before she left. After six years, I want you to finally have that.”

I was still holding her hand, so I took the other one. “Maybe what I really want is a new beginning. The one we might have had, if your father hadn’t screwed your head on backwards.”

The faint smile was back. “You hated the kind of girl I would have been.”

“Yeah, fine. Fair. I was kind of a bitch, you know, even if you were too besotted to see it. But maybe I’m better now?”

“You’ve always been just right. It’s still ‘no.’”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t come here to complicate your life all over again. You’ve got everything going for you. A great job, and good friends.”

“You don’t like Jana.”

“To the contrary. I think Jana’s great. And I always enjoyed sparring with her.”

I didn’t buy it, but I wasn’t prepared to argue that point when other arguments were better. “Besides, there’s no limit on how many friends you can have.”

She squeezed my hands. “Complications, remember?”

“I can manage complications. Why are you being so stubborn?” If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t want to hear from me again!”

Another smile. Knowing, this time. “But you do know better. I can tell.”

“Then stop being stupid, come to dinner, and drive home tomorrow!”

“No.” Before I could explode and storm off – which I was a half second from doing – she said, “Take the good ending, Dara. If you still want a new beginning in a month, let me know then.”

“Why a month?”

“This has been a pretty emotional day . . . for both of us?” She made it a question.

“Good guess, Sherlock.”

“So, sit with it. Maybe tomorrow, or next week, you’ll decide that the good ending is for the best. If you don’t – if you decide you’d like to see whether we can manage a friendship – well. You know where to reach me.”

“You don’t just plan on blowing me off?”

“You know better.”

“I do.” I lifted a hand and placed it on her cheek, startled by how soft it felt. “I’ll give you your month, but that’s it. I want to get to know you, Elaine.”

For the first time, her smile had nothing of Dan in it. No memories or echoes of a past that should have been put to rest years ago. It was a soft smile. Kind, and happy, and somehow it was hers alone. I guess that’s when I stopped looking for my ex-husband and actually saw the woman in front of me.

I walked her to her car and watched her drive off – quite literally, into the sunset. It made for a good ending.

But I was pretty sure an ending wasn’t the best I could do, and that thought brought me a private smile. “Jana is going to be so pissed.”

– The end. And, maybe, a beginning.

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