I tear the first page out of the notebook and put it in an envelope, already addressed, stamped and ready to go. 33 Mangrove Way. Before sealing I drop in four of the tiniest prettiest rocks. This is my heart, my apology. I push back from the table after throwing down bills for the meal, leaving a fifty percent tip. Abigail is standing at the end of the bar and I walk over and hand her a note and she looks at me smiling and says, “What’s this?”
“Open it after I’m gone,” I say.
“Are you leaving now?” she says.
“Yeah.”
“Goin back to Kalamazoo?”
“No, not just yet.”
“It’s weird, Simon, I don’t know you at all, you’re a total stranger but.”
“But what?”
“Nothing,” she says.
“Don’t hate your name,” I tell her again.
She doesn’t say anything. She looks at the note.
“Why don’t we... shake hands,” I say.
“Okay.” We shake hands, holding on a little longer than necessary.
“See ya round, Simon,” Abigail says.
“No you won’t,” I say.
“Yeah but maybe someday though,” she says.