Marcus stirred his coffee.
“You hate me?”
Samuel laughed.
“No.”
“Seriously?”
“You didn't marry my wife.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“I absolutely married your wife.”
Samuel smiled.
“She hadn’t been my wife for five years.”
Marcus laughed.
Samuel continued.
“You’ve been good to Maya.”
“I love her.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
Samuel thought.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because love isn’t a job opening.”
Marcus looked at him.
Samuel continued.
“You loving her doesn’t fire me.”
Marcus smiled.
“I wish Denise understood that sooner.”
“So does she.”
“How do you know?”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“Because Denise isn’t a bad person.”
Marcus nodded.
Samuel added, “She can be stubborn enough to make you question modern medicine.”
Marcus laughed loudly.
“That part I know.”
Six months after graduation, Maya began working at an architectural firm in Raleigh.
Her first apartment was tiny.
Samuel helped install shelves.
Marcus helped buy furniture.
Denise arrived with enough kitchen supplies for a family of six.
Maya stood in the middle of the room watching the three of them argue over where a table should go.
“You’re all exhausting.”
Samuel pointed toward Marcus.
“He started it.”
Marcus laughed.
“I haven’t spoken.”
“Exactly. Passive aggression.”
Denise rolled her eyes.
For the first time in months, Maya felt something close to normal.
Not the old normal.
Something better.
A year after graduation, Ridgemont University mailed a promotional alumni booklet.
Maya opened it at breakfast.
Inside was a photograph from commencement.
She stared at the image.
Hundreds of graduates stood outside the building.
Near the edge of the frame, almost accidentally, she could see herself hugging Samuel.
His sweatshirt.
Her black gown.
Her cap crooked against his shoulder.
Maya smiled.
She photographed the page and sent it to him.
Look what I found.
Samuel replied:
I look terrible.
Maya answered:
You looked perfect.
He sent back:
That degree made you sentimental.
Maya printed the photograph.
She framed it.
Years later, it remained one of her favorites.
Not because the day had been perfect.
It had been painful.
Messy.
Embarrassing.
But that photograph captured the exact moment Maya stopped allowing other people to define her relationships for her.
Two years after graduation, Maya became engaged.
Her fiancé, Jordan, proposed during a weekend trip to Charleston.
Maya called her father first.
Samuel answered on the third ring.
“Everything okay?”
“Why do you always assume something is wrong?”
“Because you never call this late unless your car broke.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“I’m engaged.”
Silence.
Then Samuel shouted so loudly she pulled the phone away.
Jordan laughed.
Samuel immediately started asking questions.
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Charleston.”
“Does he have a job?”
Maya stared at the phone.
“You’ve known him three years.”
“People change.”
“Dad.”
“I'm kidding.”