Part 2

“When I was your age, I dated someone who looked very much like Jordan.”

“Seriously?”

She tipped her head to one side.

“Did it end badly?”

She had no idea how deeply the question struck.

I lowered my eyes to the kitchen towel clenched between my fingers.

“No.”

“It just…” I searched for the right word. “…ended.”

She clearly wanted the rest of the story.

Instead, I redirected the conversation.

“Have you learned anything else about him?”

“A little.”

“What does he study?”

“Architecture.”

Richard had once planned to become an architect. Later, he changed his major to engineering because, as he had said, “Buildings don’t care about student loans.”

“What else?”

“He’s 20.”

“So he’s a year older than you.”

She nodded.

Not Boston.

That single fact answered one question while producing several new ones.

“His mom teaches elementary school.”

“And his dad?”

“I don’t know.”

She laughed.

“We’ve known each other for one afternoon.”

That was reasonable.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket.

“Actually…” Her smile appeared again. “I kind of already invited him over.”

“For dinner.”

“When?”

“This Friday.”

My eyes moved to the calendar beside the refrigerator.

Friday was only three days away.

She appeared slightly uneasy now.

“I just thought…” She lifted one shoulder. “…I’d like you to meet him.”

I smiled because that was what a mother was supposed to do.

“I’d love to.”

The answer came without hesitation.

The following three days seemed endless.

Whenever I convinced myself that I had invented the resemblance, Richard returned to my thoughts.

Riding the Green Line.

Eating cheap lunches near the harbor.

Stealing fries from my plate because he insisted calories did not count when they belonged to someone else.

For years, I had refused to think about him.

Not because my feelings had disappeared.

Because I had never discovered why he had.

We had discussed engagement rings and debated whether we would eventually live in the suburbs or remain in Boston.

Then, one morning, he called.

Something in his voice was wrong.

He did not sound cold or angry.

He sounded afraid.

“For what?”

“I can’t do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have to leave.”

“Leave where?”

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