Luckily for Val, Gwen kept the conversation light and airy, venturing no further than run-of-the-mill chitchat as they drove to the restaurant. The conversation continued, minus Oliver thankfully, as the two were seated at Cole’s restaurant on Elmwood Avenue in the north section of the Elmwood Village. A collection of trendy restaurants and shops peppered each side of the street but this one was the only one with an outside patio.

With the weather being warm, Val and Gwen jumped at the opportunity to get the last open table. Once their glasses of wine had been delivered Gwen asked Val about her background and her family.

Val took a deep breath. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the conversation took a dangerous turn. She responded plainly. “I’m an only child. My parents died a long time ago. I was in my late teens when it happened. My father went first with a heart attack and my mother followed one year later in a car accident. When she died, my family was gone.”

Val often described her parents’ death candidly. It wasn’t that she was callous. It was a protective mechanism. It was the only way she could answer the question without falling apart, though it had been almost twenty years. She was a grown woman, yet at times she still felt like a lost child.

“You don’t beat around the bush at all now, do you?”

“It is what it is,” Val said. “So, what’s your story?”

“It’s kind of boring. Better order some coffee to keep you awake if you’re going to sit through my saga.”

“I’ll get a cup if I need it.”

“Just remember, you asked for it,” Gwen said. “I got married when I was seventeen. Dropped out of high school to do it. He was twenty-seven. God, was I stupid back then. My parents disowned me. They said if I was going to throw my life away, then they wanted nothing to do with me. I haven’t talked to them since that day.”

“I thought you said this story was going to be boring?” Val said.

“It is to me.”

Val took a sip of her wine. “What happened to your husband? It’s obvious that you don’t have one anymore.”

“I divorced him five years after I married him. After I caught him cheating on me for the third time. You know, I wasn’t even mad when I caught him. I guess I had just grown used to it.”

“What a bastard.”

“You got that right. He wasn’t much of a husband. I’m far better off without him.”

“That must have been tough. The divorce, I mean. You were what? Twenty-two? Did you have anyone to help you through it?”