Iliana was seated on the banquette, with Jeff opposite her. Though the place was crowded, the walls absorbed the noise, and their table felt very private. “How about a glass of wine?” Jeff said. “Sure,” she answered. She wanted to relax and let the conversation wander. She hoped to explore the side of Jeff that had hummed “The Best of Times” and then said he liked that she remembered it. She wanted to tell him how much a part of all her dreams he had been when she was young, and she wanted to know that in his own way, he had been searching back then for a girl like her—smart and full of promise, a girl who could become the successful professional sitting across from him now. She was entirely anonymous to him. He didn’t know that she hadn’t published a word in years, that her husband thought her top priority was his career, that the article ideas she had found time to pitch between carpools and errands had been rejected, that her closest friend was another stay-at-home mom who had accepted that no law firm would ever take her back.
