becoming a person again.
Yellow glasses.
Cheating at games.
Skipping pages.
Getting angry with me.
I looked back at Claire.
“I believe you love me. But I don’t know what I trust yet.”
She stayed where she was.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. Neither do I.”
Claire nodded.
“What do you want me to do?”
The question surprised me.
“Tonight? Tell me about Nora.”
“And after?”
“I want to go home.”
“Okay.”
We spent another hour talking.
There was nothing dramatic about it.
Nora hated raisins. She wanted a motorcycle when she turned 16. She believed rules in board games were “suggestions.”
When we eventually returned to Claire’s apartment, the green dress had been folded neatly over a chair.
“Do you want me to return it?” she asked.
“No.”
Claire looked at me.
“I bought it because you wanted it,” I said. “That part didn’t change.”
Then I went home.
