Maria has claimed the best table in the little sushi restaurant, right at the back by the door to the tiny patio. A soft breeze blows in, fragrant with honeysuckle and the exotic plants the restaurant owners have planted in big flower boxes all around their little outdoor space.

“Hello stranger.” She looks up with a smile, and Brad bends down to kiss her cheek. He gets a whiff of her perfume; soft and understated, it goes well with her Chanel suit and coiffured curls. These days, Maria looks every inch the lawyer’s wife from Brooklyn Heights, and only her short stature and ample bosom indicate her Italian heritage.

As soon as he sits in the chair opposite, she takes his hands and studies his face with a frown. “So, what’s going on?” Her tone is stern. Maria isn’t into preambles.

Brad groans. “Hi, Maria. Nice to see you too. I’m well, thanks for asking.” He extracts his hands from hers. “Can I at least order a beer before the inquisition starts?”

Maria compresses her lips into a thin line of disapproval, but beckons the waiter, who hurries over. Brad orders a Kuronama. After all, it’s the weekend, and he’s already done his chores. It’ll be easier to get through lunch with a bit of liquid courage. Maria orders a macha latte.

The waiter bows and goes to fill their orders, and Maria places her forearms on the table. She fixes Brad with a steady gaze. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “How’re you holding up? You look exhausted, are you sleeping?”

He shrugs. “Not much, no.” Before he can say anything else, the waiter returns with his beer, and Brad takes a grateful swig. When he doesn’t volunteer anything more Maria decides to help matters along.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks. And Brad finds that he does, at least some of it. She’s stuck by him since they were pimply teenagers, more than once threatening to beat up guys twice her size for making fun of Brad, who was out in high school before it was cool. She deserves Brad’s confidence. And Maria has a knack for making him feel better.

“We had a huge fight, and Aiden left. It was my fault.” The words come out tonelessly, and speaking them out loud for the first time hurts more than he’d imagined.

Maria raises an eyebrow. “How is it your fault? And why does this have to be the end? You two have fought before, and always managed to reconcile.”

“I…provoked this one. I made him angry on purpose.” Brad’s throat feels like it closed up, and he has to force out the words. “I think I wanted him to leave,” he whispers at last.

This has to sink in. Maria is silent for a good minute. “Why?” she finally asks.

Brad shrugs. From here onward, there’ll be lies. “I don’t know.”

He can’t tell her the real reason, he feels too ashamed. If Maria knew that Brad drove Aiden away by blaming him for destroying their lives, she will never think of him the same way again. Brad has never told anyone much about Aiden’s worsening bouts of depression and mania, the failed therapies and the strain the illness put on their relationship. Maria knows a little, and might suspect more than she lets on. But Brad never asked for her help, or anyone else’s. Aiden’s condition was always Brad’s problem to deal with. And he failed.

He can’t tell Maria that their last fight, like so many before, started because of Aiden resenting Brad’s work and friends, a life he increasingly couldn’t be a part of anymore. Brad can’t tell her that it all got too much.

Instead, he carries on with recounting the facts from the night two weeks ago. “I didn’t think he’d do it,” he croaks. “But he went into the bedroom, packed his clothes, and left.” The realization that all Aiden’s belongings fit into one carry-on bag still makes his heart hurt unbearably.

“Oh, sweetie,” Maria sighs. Brad can feel tears sting his eyes. He hasn’t cried since that night, but now it’s close under the surface. Maria takes his hand again, and this time he doesn’t pull away.

“Maybe, if you give it some time, you can still work this out?” she suggests, but no longer sounds like she believes it herself. When Brad doesn’t even bother to reply she asks, “Have you spoken to him since?”

“I left a message, about his painting. The big one in the bedroom,” Brad lies. He doesn’t want Maria to know they spoke that day. Better not give her the impression that there’s still an open line of communication between them.

“He’s not gotten back to you?” she asks.

“Just texted to say someone will pick it up.” Brad very much wants to finish this conversation now. He regrets that he agreed to this lunch. His head aches, and he misses the quiet solitude of the last few weeks.

Maria lets go of his hand and leans back. “I just don’t see why this has to be the end. I know Aiden isn’t easy to be around sometimes, but…”

Brad shakes his head. “It’s been coming for a long time,” he says, and doesn’t let her interrupt him. “Please, Maria, can we leave it at for now? I can’t deal, not yet…” His voice breaks. Her eyes soften. In all likelihood, she can see the tears he tries not to shed.

“Oh honey,” she says. “Of course, I’m sorry. I’ll leave it alone. Let’s eat, okay?” She motions to the waiter again, before Brad can protest and tell her that he’s not hungry. He automatically orders unagi and hosomaki rolls, his favorites. But when the food comes Brad pushes the sushi pieces around the narrow plate, finding chewing and swallowing almost impossible. A second beer soon sloshes around his half-empty stomach, making him feel queasy.

Maria does her best to keep a conversation going, and catches Brad up on her life since they last saw each other. He’s grateful for the distraction, but finds it hard to make all the right noises.

She keeps talking, accepting his brooding silence as only Maria can. The familiar rhythm of her voice is soothing, and by the end of the meal Brad feels a little better.

They don’t linger in the restaurant like they usually would. Maria takes care of the check. “Your turn next time,” she says.

“You want me to come home with you?” she asks when they step out of the restaurant.

Brad shakes his head, softening the blow by rubbing her shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

He kisses her cheek, but today that’s not enough for her. She pulls him close, and her soft breasts squish into his chest. Holding on tightly she murmurs, “You’ll be all right.” Then she lets him go, and with a wave and an encouraging smile she turns away, and is soon swallowed up by the shoppers thronging the street.

Brad sets off toward home. He feels like shit for holding out on Maria. She’s the one person he should be able to tell everything that happened with Aiden. She would be on his side regardless, there’s no question about it. But he’s kept all of it in for so long, it’s second nature now.

It’s his fault that Aiden left, however Maria tries to explain it away. Brad has watched Aiden’s mental health erode for years, and it wasn’t hard, in this worst and final fight, to push his lover way beyond what he could endure. Brad said all the things he knew would hurt Aiden the most.

He’s a coward. He had tried to break up with Aiden before, but could never just tell him it was over. So instead, he hurt his feelings beyond repair and blamed him for everything that had gone wrong.

Brad failed Aiden, and he’ll have to live with it.