Ana has been patient with my recovery, expecting nothing, supporting everything, but I can tell that I am starting to wear on her. Being my friend means she is pulled into this even though it has nothing to do with her. I can only assume that, after a while, even the most understanding and empathetic of people would start to wonder just how long it will be before we can have honest to God fun again. Fun that doesn’t end in a sorrowful look from me, fun that isn’t laced with what I have lost. She knew me before Ben, she knew me during Ben, and now she knows me after Ben. She’s never said it, but I would imagine the me she knew before Ben was probably her favorite.

Ana said she’d be at my place at eight to pick me up, but she calls at seven asking if I mind if she brings this guy she has been seeing.

“Who have you been seeing?” I say. I didn’t know she was seeing anyone.

“Just this guy, Kevin.” She laughs, and I suspect he’s right there next to her.

“I’m just some guy?” I hear in the background, confirming my suspicion. I can hear her shush him.

“Anyway, is that okay? I want him to meet you,” she says.

“Uh, sure,” I say, taken aback. You can’t say no in a situation like this. It’s rude and weird, but I wonder, if the rules of propriety allowed it, what I would have said.

“Cool,” she says. “Be there at eight to pick you up. You still want to go to that ramen house?”

“Sure!” I overcompensate for my apprehension by being outwardly perky and excited. It feels obvious to me, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe I’ve been getting really good at hiding my emotions, or maybe she’s not paying attention.