“No,” he said. He got up. She watched him chewing and swallowing, walking off. He forgot the check and came back. She pushed it to him. He looked at her.
“I’m coming,” she said. “I’m the best man,” he said. “I truly am. I truly love you.” “I know you do,” she said.
“You’re not happy,” he said. “Please, David,” she said. She stood up, then walked on ahead.
He paid the check and they went outside. “God,” he said, “I can’t believe it. It just isn’t true! It can’t be true! Do you know what this means? Do you?” He started to cry. They walked along the long windows of the restaurant.
She started to touch him then didn’t. “I know what you want,” she said, “but I don’t know if I can feel that way again.”
“The truth,” he said, “just tell me the truth.”
“I really don’t,” she said. Then she said, “There is no truth.”
“Jesus!” he said. “What is happening to me? I’m crying, for Christ’s sakes. I’m goddamn crying!”
They were at the car. He opened her door. “You cried the time you asked for a divorce,” she said, “the time right after you married me.”
“I know,” he said. “I remember. Here. Take the keys. I’m going to walk.”
“No,” she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”
“I can’t stay where I’m not loved,” he said. “I won’t.” He was looking down at the asphalt of the parking lot.
“No,” she said bitterly, “I suppose not. I suppose you can’t.”
He looked up at her. “I can’t,” he said.
“Do what you want,” she said. “You always have. Do anything. I’m tired. I’m going home.”
He looked at her. She didn’t move. He looked down at his shoes. “Good Christ,” he said.