Page 119 of The Last Good Man

“Uh-huh. Interesting.”

She writes something else down.

“And where exactly did you two meet the second time?”

I ponder my answer while she’s waiting patiently, her pen hovering over her notepad.

“I spend Saturday night in Connecticut at an inn. He was passing through the area, and there was a storm.”

If she knew how far the inn was from the freeway, she’d know his presence there had nothing to do with fate.

“Interesting. That’s some coincidence.”

Dr. Aretha Stenson is no fool. I sense the trepidation in her voice. Anyone watching criminal investigation documentaries can name at least one stalker who killed someone and happened to be at the right place at the right time.

“I hope this is a good story,” she says.

I shrug in response.

“What went wrong?” she goes on.

“Nothing. We had dinner. He was nice.”

“So he’s a nice man,” she murmurs, writingdown the exactsame words.

“It’s too early to say, but yeah…Hewas nice that night.”

It’s not like she’s on the edge of her seat because of my story.

“Do you like him?” she asks me directly, and I’m sotaken by surprisethat I mumble unintelligible words while grappling with a surge of heat.

‘Your body never lies,’my mother used to say when I was a kid, but she wasn’t talking about boys.

It was about me being tired, needing food, or craving somethingin particular.

Something she always liked to cook for me.

Maybe that ispart of the problem.

My expectations are so high because I’ve always been surrounded by people who loved me.

I’m trying not to expect people to cater to me, and I don’t think I am too fussy.

I just want to connect with someone for real. And I wanthimto feel the same way.

I want him to need me as much as I need him. But truthfully, no one needs anyone these days.

I see it every time I meet someone new.

He doesn’t need me, and I don’t need him, and it’s all about how quickly we figure that out and move on.

They’re doing this game.

And I’m doing this game.

That’s why it’s called a game.

At the end of the day, it’s pointless, yet we’re still doing it.

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