Astray 17

It’s been years now, says Rob at the Artichoke. Get over it. It’s clearly done.

I know.

You don’t, he says. You’re still in it. Just go to church, if that’s where you say life is. But be honest about it instead of going round pubs talking to strangers and pining for her.

You’ve changed your tune, I say.

Well, it was pretty obvious you weren’t cut out for community work. And I’ve seen you try to flirt with women.

Fair, I say.

Don’t forget I knew her, he says. She came to me once, out of desperation. She said you needed space a lot. You’d lost interest in the little daily battles. You went to the pub in the evenings and sat in a corner. You wanted something higher, you told me. Now the second you see her again you start pining. But if she came back to you now, the same thing would probably happen, wouldn’t it?

Right, another pint? I say, pretending to get up from the bench.

You smirk, but maybe this other guy just swims this sea better than you. Maybe he gives her what she needs, day to day. Maybe not. Either way, there’s nothing you can do about that part of your life except get out of it.

She seems to have got out of it pretty well, I say.

Yes, and you’re the one who’s stuck.

Is this what they call tough love?

It’s called friendship, he says.