“Yeah, well, I have the time, you know, to help people. ’Cause I’m not tied down to anyone, so I can, you know, give the guys who work for me their holidays off—like I work Thanksgivin’, Christmas—so they can be with their families, since I’m all alone this year.”

Jimmy worried that reminding Sandrine that he was all alone this year sounded like a ploy to get her to feel bad for him. And then he realized it was a ploy to make her feel bad for him. Because he wanted her to feel bad for him. Or at least realize how bad she had made him feel. Because she had hurt him. And he wanted her to know just how badly she had hurt him.

Sandrine wanted to offer Jimmy some solace—she knew she owed him that. But before she could, Jimmy made sure she understood just how alone he was and said, “Yeah, I don’t have anybody anymore, really. I mean, my sister got canned, so she left town.”

“Right…” Sandrine had heard this. The paper mill in Madawaska had restructured and Jimmy’s sister had been laid off, but, fortunately, she had found work at a plant in Pennsylvania that made toilet paper out of recycled coffee cups.

“And Mom and Dad retired and headed south.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“Vermont.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, winters there are a lot easier.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and then Spot went and died on me.”

“Oh, Jimmy, I didn’t know that.” For the first time, Sandrine forgot how awful she felt about seeing Jimmy and became genuinely concerned for him. And genuinely sad for him. Because Spot was the fish Sandrine had gotten Jimmy at the pet store in Edmundston, New Brunswick, to celebrate their one-month anniversary. And Jimmy loved that fish.

“Yeah. He was old, it was his time.” Jimmy was almost crying—partly for Spot, but mostly because he was so sad about losing Sandrine.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy.” Sandrine was overwhelmed by how sad Jimmy was. Over a fish.

“He was a good fish, though,” added Jimmy. And then a couple of tears started to make their way out of his eyes, and they rolled down his cheeks. And Jimmy brushed them away—but not before Sandrine saw that he was crying. And she got extremely uncomfortable, like most people do when men like Jimmy cry. “But—so,” continued Jimmy, “like I said, I really don’t have anybody anymore.”

Sandrine said she was sorry again.

And Jimmy said thanks. And looked up at her. And Sandrine saw the sweet guy she almost fell in love with. And Jimmy saw her see that guy. And saw his chance to get her back—and took it. “So, listen,” he said, “I was wonderin’: Would you like to come over?”

“Huh?” Sandrine was stunned by the question, because that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

“It’d be fun!”

“Oh, no—”

“Yeah! We could catch up, hang out?”

“Jimmy—”

Sandrine was about to say no again when the waitress was suddenly at their table again. “So, I forgot to tell ya, don’t forget! Friday night special at the Moose Paddy: Drink free if you’re sad. So if you’re sad, or if you two are ready for another coupla Buds or somethin’, let me know, all right?”