Brian leaned forward and spoke with a humble tone, hoping the man would read between the lines. “I need it for my girlfriend.”

The man’s eyebrows went up. “You want to trade for an engagement ring? We got some nice ones down here in—”

“I’m not looking for a ring. I need the cash. I need $230.” He swallowed hard and locked eyes. “She’s in trouble. We’re in trouble.”

The man studied him a moment, then stepped toward the register and took out $230.

In Brian’s mind there was only one answer to their predicament. When your car was headed toward a cliff, you turned the wheel and slammed on the brakes. You let your instincts take over. Simple as that.

But he could tell there was something going on in Melissa. Her instincts were telling her something else, and he felt it was up to him to guide her instead of forcing her. So on the way home he spent ten bucks to pick up dinner from Melissa’s favorite fast-food restaurant, Taco Bell.

In the apartment, he put the brown bag on the table and called for her. No answer. He pecked on the closed bathroom door.

“Hey, I brought you something.”

She groaned and her voice echoed like her head was in a bucket. “Be there in a minute.”

The food was cold by the time she came out. Her face was one shade less than marshmallow, and she had one hand on her stomach and the other wiping sweat from her forehead. When she saw the food, she scrunched her face in disbelief.

“Where’d you get the money for this?”

“It’s a surprise. Come on and eat.”

She shook her head and made another face. “That’s not very appetizing right now.”

“You love Taco Bell. I got you nachos.”

She swallowed hard. “The smell turns my stomach. Why didn’t you ask me? I would have told you to get me some saltines.”

“Fine.” Brian tossed her box of nachos in the refrigerator and slammed the door. “I try to do something nice for you and this is what I get.”

“Why are you getting mad? I’m sick as a dog. This is not personal.”

Brian sat at the table thinking of the boom box he’d just sold. It felt like everything he touched went south. He took a deep breath. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Have things get back to normal. I thought the food would help.”

She wandered to the couch and sat, her back to him, sinking deep into the cushions.

“Look, I think we need to talk,” he said. It was easier to say that without looking her in the face.

“About what?”

“You know what.”

“Then go on and talk.”

“I hate seeing you go through this.”

“Well, there’s nothing either of us can do about it now.”

Yes, there is, he thought. But he didn’t say that.