”“Yes, it does,” I concurred.There was no way to hide the obvious. I didn’t see a ring on her left hand, so I asked her if she was married.“...ope,” she replied matter-of-factly.“Got a boyfriend?” I pressed.“A part-time one,” she replied, taking another swig from the beer bottle and again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.“What about you?” she asked.“Married, two girlfriends and dog,” I jokingly replied.“Poor dog,” she replied.I laughed. I loved her quick-wittedness.The gas pump clicked. But then I then thought to myself, what if I tried the middle ground?It's the least pleasing path quite often, but it seemed the best. Icould tell him he wasn't alone and that I wasn't angry with him, butthat it had to be our secret. I wondered if he was old enough tounderstand.I decided to talk to him. I walked up to his door and knocked. I enteredand saw him sitting under the covers of his bed with the look of fear inhis eyes.I sat on the end of his bed and told him I wasn't angry with him. I. ”“Then why did you break up with me?”“I was stupid, immature. And my mother was sick. I didn’t know what I had, what we had. But it’s too late now. We can’t go back.” Tears formed in his eyes and he began to cry, with low snuffles. “Oh, Tim, don’t do that to me. You’re hurting me right here.”I touched my chest with my shoes.He controlled himself with an effort.“Will I see you again?”“That wouldn’t be a good idea, would it?”I put on my shoes, towering over him again. I threw my coat over my arm. I have a lot of experience with this indifference thing and the best thing is to give her a medicine of her own syrup, so I applied the same, she did not greet me and I as if she did not exist, when we were all in family she made an effort not to look at me and never spoke to me unless it was ultimately necessary, even if I was dying to have her.It was effortless for me to stop looking at her and talking to her as I told you I have been through this many times and long ago I got the hang of it.