The man couldn’t quite believe that the woman had just shared something so personal with him. And asked, “You loved him?” just to make sure he had heard her correctly. Because how could a person who had not answered a marriage proposal have loved the person who had proposed?

The woman gasped a bit. Because she couldn’t believe that she had just admitted something so private to a complete stranger. And then she tried to backpedal. “Well … I don’t know if I loved him. I mean, we were kids,” she said, waving away the confession she had just made.

And then she stopped trying to wave away the confession.

And realized she was lying.

And realized she didn’t need to lie.

And she let the confession be what it was—the truth.

And she said, “No—wait—that’s not true. I did. Love him. I do. Love him.”

And the lightness she had felt when she decided to begin her epic journey to Almost filled up her insides again.

“And I feel like—by not answering him…” The woman paused, wondering why she wanted to share her story with this stranger, but also feeling strangely compelled to explain herself to him. “I just feel like I dashed his hopes and dreams.”

The man rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. And he couldn’t believe he had done it. He hated it when his daughters did it. It’s just about the most dismissive body language there is. It’s judgmental. And lazy. And cryptic. And it doesn’t help solve a problem or help people reach any kind of understanding. But it was the only response he had for the woman’s arrogance.

“Oh, come on,” chided the man. “You give yourself too much credit.”

The woman was stunned by the stranger’s response. “Huh?”

“I don’t think you ‘dashed’ his hopes and dreams.” The man started making his way down the cement steps. “At least—not all by yourself. His hopes and dreams were going to get dashed at some point. By you. By other people. Because that’s what happens. When you’re young. And that’s all you need to get your hopes dashed: be young. And everybody starts out young, so everybody gets their hopes dashed.”

The man was now standing in the driveway looking up at the woman. And the woman looked down at him—surprised by how small he was—and she supposed that what he had said was true.

“And, anyway,” continued the man. “I don’t think you really dashed his hopes and dreams. ’Cause if you dash somebody’s hopes and dreams—well, that’s kind of a nice way to let ’em down, ’cause it hurts … but it’s quick. If you’d said no, that woulda been ‘dashing’ his hopes and dreams.”

The woman dropped her head and folded her arms and held them tight against her body. And the man’s kindly way gave way to something subtly unkind.

“But you didn’t say no,” he continued. His voice was low. And almost sounded threatening. “You said nothin’.”

The man paused and made sure the woman was hearing him.