His apology is nice to hear.

“I was thinking about what we talked about and maybe school is a good option. It will give me a schedule of what to do and some focus. Besides, I really love to learn.”

“I know you do,” I say, putting my hand on his leg. “It’s nice to see this spark again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in prison you would always write me about what you’d been reading about and you had all of these ideas about philosophy and life. And when you came out…” My voice trails off.

He waits for me to continue.

“Well, when you came out you seemed to lose that.”

Owen hangs his head and buries his fingers in his thick hair.

It has grown a lot since he came out, and he no longer looks so much like a skinhead.

“I was just lost,” he says after a moment. “At first, I was just trying to get over the coma and everything that happened—“

“Yes, I’m sure it was so traumatic for you,” I say. “Please don’t think that I am writing any of that off.”

“No, not at all. I’m just trying to explain what’s been going on with me.”

Now, it’s my turn to wait for him to continue.

“I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to be out here,” he says, exhaling deeply. “After all of those years on the inside, I knew who I was in there but out in the free world? I felt like I was walking in a vacuum. Like there was no gravity holding me down. That’s probably why so many inmates make bad decisions right after they are released. This feeling of weightlessness is exhilarating at first but then you start to feel sick to your stomach. Nauseous.”

I’ve never thought of it that way.

I mean, I knew that living in prison with all of its rules and regulations would be hard but I didn’t quite realize how hard it would be.

“You got some ice cream on your cheek,” Owen says, turning toward me.

I wipe something off, but I miss.

He points to his face to show me where it is, but I miss the spot again.

He starts to laugh.

Scooting over, he leans closer to me and runs his thumb gently right below my lower lip.

“Thanks,” I say, pulling away but his mouth is suddenly on mine.

He doesn’t wait for me to respond before pushing his body against me.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I mumble, trying to push him away.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long, Olive,” he mumbles.

It’s almost as if he hasn’t heard me.

“No, stop,” I say louder this time, pushing him away from me as hard as I can.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?”

“I love you, Olive.”