“Hi, Mai.” He greeted me with a hug.
I looked in his eyes, wondering if I could pre-read them…wondering if I could predict the future…if I could tell how everything was going to go…how he was going to react…if it was the last time I would look in those eyes…if that had been our last embrace. “Hi.” I got the one word out.
“I’m glad you’re here. What’s up? What took so long?”
I had originally planned on coming hours before—us spending more of the day together. But a mid-morning phone call had changed all that. I had needed to regroup and take as much charge of the situation as I could before finally making my way to his Tennessee townhome.
“I…I had to take care of some things.”
He had my hand and was leading me through the hardwood hallway into the similarly floored family room. “If it’s about the move…”
“No.”
“Come on, sit down.” He started toward the neutral-colored sofa. “I want to talk to you about th—”
“Hawk….” I didn’t sit.
So neither did he. “Maya? What is it? What’s wrong?”
I dropped his hand and turned from him. I looked down at the brown and white Oriental rug, over to the inactive brick fireplace with expansive art piece of the Nashville skyline above, to the beige-carpeted stairs leading up to the rest of the home, and to the door leading to the back yard. Finally, I glanced at the three framed photos of his family. I looked anywhere but at him.