“I didn’t want you to look at me different. I didn’t want you to watch me. Every time I lost my keys or forgot a word. I didn’t want to see that look on your face.”
“What look?”
He pulled back. His eyes were red. He looked so tired.
“That one,” he said softly. “The one you’ve got right now.”
I didn’t know what my face looked like. Scared, probably. Heartbroken.
“Mark,” I said. “This is my face because you got lost, and I didn’t know where you were. That’s all. This is just my face when I love you and I’m scared.”
He put his forehead against mine.
A man came out of the gas station with a bag of chips and stopped. He looked at us, two middle-aged people crying and holding each other by pump number four. Then he walked a wide circle around us to his car.
