“He’s never said that before.”
“What?”
“When you’re ready.”
Ellen sat beside her.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I know.”
Marcy looked at me.
“What do you think?”
I could have told her exactly what I thought.
I could have listed every reason she should never speak to him again.
Instead I asked, “What do you think?”
She was quiet.
“I think I’m not ready.”
“Then that’s your answer.”
She typed.
I’m not ready to talk. Please don’t contact me again unless I contact you first.
She stared at the message for almost a minute before sending it.
Then she set the phone facedown.
Nothing happened.
No immediate response.
No pounding on the door.
No catastrophe.
Just a boundary, sent in twelve words.
Marcy exhaled.
“That felt strange.”
“Good strange or bad strange?”
“I don’t know yet.”
