“You’d be surprised how many of us there are,” she said, as if it were gossip. “But most are green-card marriages in retrospect.”
“What happened to yours?” he asked. He now felt silly with this lemon cocktail, but he always said “I’ll have the same” on a first date.
“Same as yours, I bet. Glad to help a friend—I didn’t mind. Then he started dating a guy, moved away. I don’t even know where he is.”
“Did you get divorced?”
She shook her head, and her bangs—growing out—broke free from their barrette. “You?” Just then she didn’t like him enough to bother with the bathroom mirror.
“Who has time?”
“You know how I know a guy will never last?” She flicked a bit of citrus on her tongue. “When I start pulling out boxes, looking for my marriage license. I never find it—turns out I never need it.” Her laugh was hard and high, spring-loaded. “Forget I told you that.” She excused herself and returned with her barrette repositioned, lips dewy.
