That had started out as an issue for us back when we were a couple. I’d noticed once that he never ate in front of me. And when he did, it was usually something like ice cream or soup—even when we went out for breakfast.

When I asked him to split an appetizer with me once during one of our secret dates, he’d agreed but had seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed. Like eating tako wasabi was a huge ordeal.

He’d chewed on the raw octopus covered in wasabi for so long. I’d been afraid that he actually hated the dish and had only agreed to order it because I’d asked.

The whole story came out when I told him he didn’t have to keep eating if he disliked tako wasabi that much.

“I have to be careful when eating this kind of food,” he’d confessed, his expression ashamed and embarrassed. Apparently, the chance of choking and/or gagging went up a whole lot of percentage points when you didn’t have most of your tongue.

He’d sheepishly apologized for how long it took him to chew each bite. “I hope this doesn’t disgust you.”

“Are you kidding?” I’d answered. “My mom would love you. She’s always telling me to chew my food more.”

We had laughed, the awkward moment navigated. It didn’t matter, I told myself. And after that, whenever Victor and I ate together, I tried to chew as many times as he did. I’d trained myself not to swallow until I saw his Adam’s apple bob. That was how crazy I’d been for him.

I was all grown up now, no longer a ridiculous high schooler swept up in first love. But sitting across from him, I fell into that learned habit. And as we chewed together, it almost felt like my plan was working. Like we were different, for sure, but close to good as new.

I found myself weirdly glad that Victor had decided to drop by for our first anniversary. His presence was a lot. I mean, it didn’t matter if he could talk or not. He filled my head with so much noise. I could barely concentrate on anything else, including that weird restless feeling that still hadn’t gone away. It was like an engine, constantly revving somewhere in my distance.

Having him here to fill up my evening instead of the usual post-dinner despondency almost made up for the bottle of wine he’d chucked.

Plus, it was really lovely to eat at a table, sitting across from someone as opposed to standing in the carport with Yaron, who’d insisted he wasn’t allowed to leave his post.

“Tell me about your job.”