Re: NYC: Hannah & Hugh
"Yes. Completely different than you. Do you ever wonder if a left turn could've made every little thing turn out differently? Maybe you'd be in Albuquerque, having never acted ever. You could have four children under 10, and you could be working with your hands." She glanced down at his hands. "A carpenter, maybe, or a painter." Maybes. So many times she got tangled up in her own maybes, but maybes weren't a good road. Maybes would always be out there and unknown and leading to regrets.
But the food came, and she gave herself time to take one mozzarella stick and coat the end thickly with marinara sauce. And then she took a bite. Eyes closed, and as if she was savoring something heavenly, and then she laughed after. "I was really, really wanting mozzarella sticks," she explained, and then she slid easily into the topic of words. "Okay. I'll look for an hold typewriter, one that still clicks and clacks, and I'll see what ends up on the page. How's that?"
She smiled when he mentioned friends. Work was good, and it was really good he had something he loved, but she didn't think work would be enough to make him feel as if his life was filled in this good and bursting way. "Friends are good! Tell me about your friends." Elbows on the table again and her expression open.
But, tell me something... "When I forgot everything for that day, for that one day, I don't think I was happier. Isn't that strange? You would think not knowing bad things would mean I was happier, but I wasn't. And I feel different now, after, more like me, and I look in the mirror and wonder why."