I’m surprised the next time Sylvie calls when I am with him. I had somehow forgotten her. I had somehow forgotten that the world was larger than just us.
We’re watching a movie on my couch. I pause it as he says “Hello,” and that’s how I know that it’s her—the way he says it. He also says “uh-huh” five times, and “that’s cool” twice. He says “nothing much” once and glances at me. I look back at him and keep looking after he has turned away from me again.
“Okay,” Finny says, “I’ll remember.” He hangs up. “You can push play,” he says to me.
“Was that Sylvie?” “Yeah.”
“Huh.” I don’t know what I mean by that, but Finny answers me anyway.
“I can’t break up with her over the phone.” “I didn’t say you should,” I say.
“Well, you just—never mind.” “What?”
“Nothing,” Finny says.
“I was thinking that it was weird how you’re going to break up with her but she still calls—I mean, it makes sense ’cause she doesn’t know, but it’s weird.”
“I guess so,” he says. I look down at the remote control in my hands, but I don’t push play.
“You never told me,” I say.
“What?” His quiet voice matches mine.
“Why,” I say. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t shrug. He doesn’t look over at me. He has not moved since he told me to push play. I wait.
“She’s not who I want to be with,” he says “She’s not—that’s all.” “Okay,” I say, and I nod, as if he has said a lot more. He looks up at me
now.
“Do you miss Jamie?” His question startles me; I can see Finny studying the reaction on my face.
“I don’t know,” I say, because I want to tell him the truth. “I don’t want to say yes because I don’t want him back, but I can’t say no either because I do care about him still. He’s still Jamie.”
“Do you love him?” I shake my head.
“I’m not in love with him.” We are quiet again, and I think what a relief it is, how strange it is, to say that I am not in love with Jamie.
“Why are you smiling?” Finny says to me.
“I don’t love Jamie,” I say, and I laugh because it sounds so funny to say. “I’m glad that you’re happy,” Finny says.
“I am,” I say. “Actually, I’ve been really happy.” Finny’s eyes soften, and we’re looking at each other.
It was another moment when one of us could have said something, could have given us time, but neither of us did. We looked at each other until I couldn’t bear it anymore.
“We should finish this and then go get something to eat,” I say. We’ve invented a new meal, one that takes place after midnight and before dawn, and we rarely ever miss it. It’s more time that we can spend together without saying what we should.
“Good idea,” Finny says, but it isn’t. Sylvie will be home soon.
