look at him so coldly.
"Thomas." She stopped before his table, and propped the umbrella against one of the chairs. "Nice day to pick an outdoor restaurant."
He rose to his feet and wondered if he should circle the table, kiss her cheek. He decided not to. "Michelle. Glad you came."
"You are?" She arched a brow at him, then shrugged out of her coat. "Really. That's a surprise." This was going to be harder than he had anticipated. She sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and gazed enquiringly at him. "So. How have you been?"
He ground a knuckle into his eye. Her anger from Tuesday hadn't abated, it seemed, but rather had been driven below the surface, where it simmered now, lighting up her dark eyes.
"All right, I guess. Working hard."
"Well, I can't say I'm shocked." She straightened and smiled brittlely toward the waiter who was hovering to one side, unsure as to whether he should intrude. "A glass of orange juice, please. Thanks." The man nodded and walked away quickly. "So. Where were we?" She took a deep breath, and her smile became acidic. "Ah yes. Your work. Do tell me about China. How's the market?"
"Michelle," said Thomas, "Please."
"No, seriously. What have you been working on?" Something overly bright and cheerful had entered her tone. "What has kept you so busy since I left? I mean, it must have been pretty fucking important to keep you from calling me. Worrying about me. Really. I'm all ears."
"I went to Buffalo," he said. "I went to pack away Henry's belongings and try and find out what happened to him." A curveball, of sorts. Neutral ground.
"Oh?" She paused, and the hardness in her face softened. Mild guilt prickled him over having used Henry to disarm her. "How did that go?"
"Strange." He shook his head. "I ran into some of his friends, and learned a bit about what he had been up to before he disappeared. I think he was in bad shape. He joined some sort of urban exploration group, and was breaking into abandoned buildings."
"Breaking into abandoned buildings? Really? What for?"
"Just exploring, I think. The thrill of being where they weren't supposed to be."
Michelle shook her head slowly. "And you think that's connected to his disappearance?"
"Looks like it. Apparently he disappeared while searching the basement of some state hospital. I told the police, but the officers they sent to look around down there didn't find anything."
Michelle frowned and slowly shook her head, "How strange." She reached out to place her hand on his. "I'm sorry, Thomas. This has to be so hard. But trust me. In a week or two he'll give you a call from Mexico or right here in the city, and be all surprised at how upset you've become. He's only, what, twenty? He's having an adventure. That's what college kids do. Especially Henry. You know how independent he is."
He glanced down at her hand. "Yeah, I guess so. Maybe. Though this video... there's something more going on. Either way, I feel like an idiot for having taken so long to get up there." Thomas turned his hand over so as to interlace their fingers, but she drew hers back, as if growing suddenly aware of a line inadvertently crossed. The waiter arrived and set down a slender flute of orange juice, nodded, and stepped away. Glad for the distraction, Michelle lifted the glass and leaned back, taking a sip as she watched Thomas from over its rim.
It was coming. He watched her face, trying to think of a way to forestall her, divert the oncoming words. His mind was a blank. He had nothing to say.
"Well, I didn't come here to talk about Henry or his misadventures. We can't avoid this any longer. Thomas, this isn't working." She spoke carefully. "I can't do this anymore." He averted his eyes, unable to meet her gaze. And as if this inability strengthened her resolve, her voice grew calmer, more certain. "Look, after what... happened, I just can't stay in New York any longer, but you don't take my wanting to leave seriously. It's like you're just waiting for me to
"Thomas." She stopped before his table, and propped the umbrella against one of the chairs. "Nice day to pick an outdoor restaurant."
He rose to his feet and wondered if he should circle the table, kiss her cheek. He decided not to. "Michelle. Glad you came."
"You are?" She arched a brow at him, then shrugged out of her coat. "Really. That's a surprise." This was going to be harder than he had anticipated. She sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and gazed enquiringly at him. "So. How have you been?"
He ground a knuckle into his eye. Her anger from Tuesday hadn't abated, it seemed, but rather had been driven below the surface, where it simmered now, lighting up her dark eyes.
"All right, I guess. Working hard."
"Well, I can't say I'm shocked." She straightened and smiled brittlely toward the waiter who was hovering to one side, unsure as to whether he should intrude. "A glass of orange juice, please. Thanks." The man nodded and walked away quickly. "So. Where were we?" She took a deep breath, and her smile became acidic. "Ah yes. Your work. Do tell me about China. How's the market?"
"Michelle," said Thomas, "Please."
"No, seriously. What have you been working on?" Something overly bright and cheerful had entered her tone. "What has kept you so busy since I left? I mean, it must have been pretty fucking important to keep you from calling me. Worrying about me. Really. I'm all ears."
"I went to Buffalo," he said. "I went to pack away Henry's belongings and try and find out what happened to him." A curveball, of sorts. Neutral ground.
"Oh?" She paused, and the hardness in her face softened. Mild guilt prickled him over having used Henry to disarm her. "How did that go?"
"Strange." He shook his head. "I ran into some of his friends, and learned a bit about what he had been up to before he disappeared. I think he was in bad shape. He joined some sort of urban exploration group, and was breaking into abandoned buildings."
"Breaking into abandoned buildings? Really? What for?"
"Just exploring, I think. The thrill of being where they weren't supposed to be."
Michelle shook her head slowly. "And you think that's connected to his disappearance?"
"Looks like it. Apparently he disappeared while searching the basement of some state hospital. I told the police, but the officers they sent to look around down there didn't find anything."
Michelle frowned and slowly shook her head, "How strange." She reached out to place her hand on his. "I'm sorry, Thomas. This has to be so hard. But trust me. In a week or two he'll give you a call from Mexico or right here in the city, and be all surprised at how upset you've become. He's only, what, twenty? He's having an adventure. That's what college kids do. Especially Henry. You know how independent he is."
He glanced down at her hand. "Yeah, I guess so. Maybe. Though this video... there's something more going on. Either way, I feel like an idiot for having taken so long to get up there." Thomas turned his hand over so as to interlace their fingers, but she drew hers back, as if growing suddenly aware of a line inadvertently crossed. The waiter arrived and set down a slender flute of orange juice, nodded, and stepped away. Glad for the distraction, Michelle lifted the glass and leaned back, taking a sip as she watched Thomas from over its rim.
It was coming. He watched her face, trying to think of a way to forestall her, divert the oncoming words. His mind was a blank. He had nothing to say.
"Well, I didn't come here to talk about Henry or his misadventures. We can't avoid this any longer. Thomas, this isn't working." She spoke carefully. "I can't do this anymore." He averted his eyes, unable to meet her gaze. And as if this inability strengthened her resolve, her voice grew calmer, more certain. "Look, after what... happened, I just can't stay in New York any longer, but you don't take my wanting to leave seriously. It's like you're just waiting for me to
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