I tell her, finding a lame smile. We are in my hotel room. While Grace has settled down in the only comfortable lounging chair, I’ve dropped down without ceremony onto the bed. “Sometimes the past gets jumbled in my mind. I forget that you two didn’t really know each other.” I can feel the crease growing between my brows. “It’s funny. You two are so interconnected in my past,” I muse, lifting a finger to smooth the crease. “Sometimes I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t.” Grace is watching me, her face softening. “I mean, clearly what was real for me wasn’t necessarily real for you. We both remember it so differently.” She grins a little, eyes dancing. “You mean like how you keep insisting that I broke your heart when you know it was really you who broke mine?” Her smile is crooked, and I am suddenly reminded of who she is, what she has been to me, and the impossibility that we are here together. After all these years. I return her smile, although her statement is less than amusing and only adds to my sadness.
