“She died last year, but I couldn’t face a memorial for her until now. Everyone was nice about it.”

“Grief takes time,” I said. “It’s best not to avoid it.”

He swiveled to face me and ordered another Negroni.

“I have a few girlfriends around,” he said.

“I’m sure they’re helping. I bet they like your horses, too.”

“I’m a successful person.”

“I can tell.”

“But I quit my job right after my mother died. It was a new job. I can sell anything to anyone, but I didn’t care anymore.”

“I bet you made everyone your bitch,” I said.

I really don’t know why I said that, except that it seemed like something top sales guys said to each other to rile each other up. He flinched and then nodded.

“I did, I guess.”

He paused and then changed the subject.

“My friends, my friends did a sort of intervention for me this week. Because … it’s not that I wanted to die or anything. I’m successful, so I have things. But it’s tough. I think about her every day.”

He was leaning in closer and so was I.

“Do you dream about her?”

“Three times so far,” he said. “But the dream always ends too quick. I want to see her for longer.”

“She’s telling you she’s okay.”

“Do you think so?”

“I bet people don’t understand what you understand now,” I said.

“My girlfriends don’t understand. One was a housewife on a reality show.”

“I love that show,” I said.

“Do you want to see a picture?”

He scrolled through his phone and I stared at his life, pictures of boats and beaches, and he finally settled on a photo of a woman in a bikini wearing sunglasses and a hat and showed it to me proudly.

“I can only see her boobs, but I think I recognize them,” I said.

He looked at me and winked.

“I didn’t pay for them, though,” he said. “I already paid for my ex-wife’s boobs.” He then looked down at mine in some kind of reflex, and silently nodded in appreciation.

We were strange companions, but companions for the afternoon nonetheless. I would never see Roger again, but I wanted to handle his grief, make him feel less alone, and position myself as the type of woman who could.

“I have to go, Roger.”

He was not accustomed to having people leave him, I could tell. He got up to hug me, and it felt nice to be touched. I realized just then that I had not been touched since Nathan in the poppy field, months before. How was that possible? Overcome, I whispered, “It’s hard now but you will get through it, I promise. Just hang in there.”