I have no defense, because I’m sure Molly is correct. There’s much I can’t remember after that first day—the following weeks, and even months, are a blur with only a few snatches of clarity here and there—but I believe every bit of it. I’m sure I changed the subject away from Oscar as often as he was brought up, because my mind all but ceases to function when I remember him. I’m certain I never invited Molly to talk about him, or her grief, for the very same reason. As for my reputation—yes, I did focus on that, absolutely. It was the one thing I had any semblance of control over—the only thing I had any hope of fixing—while everything else lay in shattered pieces at my feet.

“That’s all true,” I tell her. “And you deserved so much better than that.”

“I just want to know why you didn’t care. Did you ever even like Oscar? Or me?”

A sigh seeps out, heavy, weary. “Of course I did. I just … the older I get, the less I’m able to feel … things. Bad things. If something’s somewhat bad, I can feel it, but it’s as though if it passes a certain threshold, it vanishes altogether. Even my thoughts disappear sometimes. I don’t know why it’s happening, and I know it’s not a good enough excuse. But that’s the reason, all the same.” I clasp my hands together tightly. “I suppose that’s why my eyes seem empty to you. Whenever I should be feeling sad, or angry, or afraid, it’s as though I do empty out on the inside. I don’t really think I’m there at all. I’m just sort of watching from a distance.”

“You could have at least pretended to care. You could have asked me how I was. You could have let me talk about it, for god’s sake, even if you weren’t actually listening. You have no problem saying the right things to strangers, even if you don’t believe them. You should have done that for me.”

“But we don’t lie to each other, Molly. It would be fake.”

I lie to so many people, for so many reasons. I say I’m happy to be at events I despise. I make people believe I remember them and care for them, when in reality I reviewed refresher notes on their names and lives hours earlier. I pretend endless small talk doesn’t make my brain shrink. I speak passionately on causes that aren’t close to my heart in the slightest.

There are so few people I let into my life voluntarily. And all of them are people I can be myself with, for better or for worse.