He can’t stop thinking of their fingers. Like they were reaching for one another, trying to hold hands. Trying to hold on.

LILY

OUR SHIFT FROM SAFETY, LIGHTNESS, toward darkness was so quick, so subtle.

The man who approached us looked like he might have been a high school football coach. It took a good deal of maneuvering for him to sit on the barstool and shift so his stomach wasn’t pressing up against the bar. But the redness in his face implied anger coiled in him, waiting to strike. Underneath his smile, he was the kind of man who smashed bottles at bars.

“What do you want, Long Island iced teas? Ladies seem to love those Long Island iced teas.”

“You must buy a lot of girls drinks, huh?” Clara said. “And here I thought we were special.”

“Well, then I’ll buy you two, darling.” He was already licking his lips. “If it’ll make you feel special. If it’ll make you feel good.”

“I’m sure that will make me feel good,” she said, laying her hand on his wrist. I felt a little jilted that she had seemed to care about my story and now her attention had been so easily redirected to someone else. The man murmured something near her ear, and she giggled in a way I hadn’t heard before, giddy and girlish. I didn’t think I could stand it, watching her hand fall again and again on this man’s arm. His hand creeping from her knee up her thigh. I reached for my bag, waited for the bartender to turn around so I could close out my tab.

The man raised his eyes from Clara’s mouth to look at me. “Hey, missy, you look a little lonely over there. I have a friend who I’m sure will want to keep you company.”

“I’m about to go,” I said.

“Oh, Lily, don’t,” Clara said. She inched closer to me, put her hand on mine. “Just for a little while?”

“Another round on me, until he gets here,” the man said.