Johnny did text her every day. Small little lines telling her what he was doing. “Going for groceries in Langford!” or “Down at the dock!” She texted back as few encouraging words as possible. She was terrified of seeming forward, of needing someone’s time, of displaying the complete loneliness that engulfed her very being. She would not appear that way. Instead she texted back, “On Broughton! Have fun!” or “Looking at fish for tonight’s supper. Have the best day!” Those few words were her only communication with the outside world. There were days when not one sound escaped her throat. There were days when she longed to hear herself speak.

One morning, the text from Johnny read, “Want to walk on the breakwater?” Annie felt the excitement inside herself. She texted back, “Yes! What time?” and began to prepare for her big day, her big event of walking with someone instead of alone. She took the bus downtown and started to walk in the direction that she thought the breakwater was, but she had to stop and ask for directions. She saw Johnny walking a few yards ahead of her but didn’t shout out to him. She walked along behind him, grinning at his swagger.

The swagger he always walked with back home. It suited him here. The only thing missing was the sound of the spurs he used to wear up home. His long ponytail was now a short buzz cut. The buzz suited him, too. Men aged better than women. They just did. Annie could have called out for him to stop, but she liked watching him from behind. The way he stopped and looked over at some people’s flowers or bent down and scratched a dog’s ears. She thought about how much more relaxed he was here. Maybe she would find that too.

He was sitting on a bench, waiting, when she arrived. He was talking with some people, so Annie stayed back a bit longer. She didn’t want to interrupt. She didn’t want to be an interruption to anyone’s life. She had been trained to stay back. Finally, she walked up to him with a big smile, happy for the company of another person. They walked together along the breakwater, the wind pressing their T-shirts and shorts tight against their bodies and the sun turning their brown skins browner.

“You look good, Annie,” Johnny said. She smirked and shook her head. “Well, you know what I mean—for an old lady your age!” Annie slapped Johnny’s hip and reminded him that he was older than she was.

“You ever get married, Johnny?” Annie asked. She had always wanted to know if he had done that. The one thing she could never imagine him doing.

“Yep, that lasted all of five seconds,” Johnny said with a laugh. “Don’t think I was cut out for monotony . . . I mean, monogamy. Not my thing, but I gave it a try.”

“Kids?”