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Our waitress, Marcia, was a sixty-eight-year-old mother of eight who’d been working there since it opened. As we’d grown older, she’d grown larger, and her plaid apron could no longer be tied around her, so she let the strings hang down her back. She put menus in front of us, but as we knew them by heart, there was no need to even open them. As the busboy poured water, Jim began staring out the window. There was a young father with his two boys feeding the ducks. The boys looked to be about three and five years old.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” I said.

“Huh?”

“The kids.” I pointed out the window.

“Yeah, cute.”

“Are you worried about work again?” I asked.

“I have a lot of patients in crisis.” He told me how one of his patients had parents who were about to be evicted from their house, one just told her husband after fifty-five years of marriage that she’s gay, and another had a four-year-old who had been diagnosed with severe OCD.

“That’s terrible and I feel for them, but I also need you to be there for me,” I said.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Every time he said I was right, I cringed. It didn’t mean anything unless his behavior changed. We sat in silence a moment, and I saw how stressed he looked. I wondered if I was being selfish about my own needs. Did I need to be more understanding? I was about to apologize for not being more compassionate about what he was going through when I realized he was typing furiously on his phone.

“Have you still been thinking about quitting your job?” I asked nervously.

“No, I know it wasn’t realistic, but if I can take most weekends off, that might help. I will try to be more connected to you.”

Hearing that made me feel better, and I believed him until I started talking again and noticed he wasn’t answering and again had his nose in his phone. Were things ever going to change?

“Sorry, I’ll be just a sec.” He continued typing, seeming to already have forgotten about being present in my life. Marcia brought over bread and olive oil. I was glad for the interruption because I was about to shove his phone up his nose.

I took a sip of water and almost spit it out when I noticed a couple entering the restaurant. It was Michael with a woman. What was he doing at Jim’s and my restaurant? What was he doing with another woman? My brain was firing every neuron at once. Please let her be his sister, or a very pretty cousin. As Angelo led them to a table, Michael put his hand on the small of her back. Dammit, she wasn’t his sister. He’d never mentioned he was dating anyone.

The woman sat down next to him on the same side of the booth. How romantic. I was crestfallen. They were both facing in my direction, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was petite and around thirty. At least he was with someone his own age. Oh God, Michael was on a date, a date with a pretty woman, a date that wasn’t me. I felt as if I kept saying the worddateover and over in my head until I hated the word. She had that shiny, long hair, the kind you only get with extensions. I had on a dorky denim headband. Why couldn’t I have blow-dried my hair? There wasn’t anything wrong with her. How could he do that to me? I should be the only pretty person in his life. I was obsessed with whatever relationship he had with her, and I was so jealous I wanted to throw up.

There were now two tables of customers between Michael and me, so if I was lucky, maybe he wouldn’t notice me. Marcia came back and asked us what we wanted to order. Thank goodness, her girth was big enough for me to hide behind. I hunched my shoulders and cocked my head and got as small as I could without doing damage to my back. I must have looked like a contortionist. I ordered my usual, but I wouldn’t be able to eat any of it. My stomach was doing flip-flops because I thought any minute Michael might see me. Would he come over when he did? Jim would want to know who he was.

When Marcia walked away, I no longer had my human shield. I looked up to see what was going on at their table, and Michael was looking at me. He smiled and looked at Jim, then back at me. I must’ve looked panicked because he made a subtle nod of his head and went back to his conversation. It was as if we were both part of the same secret club.

“I’m listening,” Jim said.

Was I talking? I didn’t think I was talking. What was he listening to? “I didn’t say anything,” I said, wondering if he could see the guilt on my face and realizing the irony of my not being present.

“I meant I’m here for you,” Jim said.

“Thanks, I appreciate that, but if you have important texts to send, it’s fine.” I never thought that would come out of my mouth. I was afraid if Jim really looked up at me, he’d know something was wrong. Jim started typing another text.

Michael’s date was leaning into him, smiling and laughing. She liked him. I wondered if she knew that he didn’t have a lot of money. I wondered if she knew that he didn’t have a stable career. I wondered if she would’ve cared.

How could I be so distressed? Michael and I weren’t dating. Besides, I was with my husband. What I needed to do was get off my butt, walk over there, and say hi.Here I go. I’m going to get up now. Yep, nothing’s going to stop me.But how would I introduce Jim to him?“Jim, this is Michael, a man I’ve been seeing, I mean hanging out with, I mean, what I mean is … he’s a man that I somehow forgot to mention to you.”

Jim had looked up from his phone and was talking again. “Hello … I’m talking to you.”

Now he wanted to talk. “Sorry.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“For what?” I asked, although there were several reasons that came to mind.

“Because I’ve been on my phone. We can talk about Gia and Jason now if you want.”

“It’s fine. We can talk about them later,” I said.