“No,” Erik said, laughing.
“Amicable divorce is an achievement,” Miles said. “And at the end of the day, you still like each other. Which is also an achievement.”
“I know,” Erik said. “But it just seemed weird.”
“Probably because you don’t have much experience with relationships ending in a healthy way.”
They emerged from the park, turned left and headed along the canal’s bike path. The sun’s rays slanted from beneath the clouds. Leaves were collecting in crunchy piles. The air was cool and dry, the perfect temperature for running. A hint of wood smoke lingered. They reached the Main Street Bridge and headed across its span. The clouds shifted and the last of the sun threw a handful of diamonds on the green waters of the canal.
“So,” Miles said. “Will you stay in touch?”
“With Melanie? I guess. I mean, sure.”
Miles chuckled. “Your apple lies so close to your father’s tree, Fish.”
Erik stopped short. “Excuse me?”
Miles stopped too, looked calmly back with hands on hips. “I teach diction. You heard me.”
“Are you actually comparing me to my father?” Erik said.
“Yes.”
Erik glanced around, open-mouthed and stunned. “I don’t know where you get off bracketing me with that—”
“Erik, shut up. I’ll preface this by saying I love you like a son. Both Janey and I love you. But it’s clear you only know two ways to relate to people: whole-hearted, complete commitment. Or estrangement. And who did you learn from?”
Erik’s teeth clicked shut. He stared.
Miles answered his own question. “Your old man. From him you learned the only way to end a relationship is to walk out and never look back. You shut it off, shut it down, cease all contact and act like it never happened. It’s what you did with Daisy. You did to Daisy exactly what your father did to you. Not consciously. Not maliciously. But because it was the only way you knew. And you almost did it with Melanie. If Mel hadn’t orchestrated that little post-mortem after you came out of the courthouse, you would’ve said vaya con dios and never called her again.”
Erik was on the defense, a sharp retort formed on his tongue. Yet at the same time Miles’s words were turning a key to the gears of his mind. And the reply dissolved.
It was the only way you knew.
“Daisy hurt you,” Miles said. “And you never let her explain. Or apologize.”
“She cheated on me,” Erik said, his voice hollow and petulant.
“Oh, stop clutching your pearls. She cheated but you never dealt with it. Instead you amputated her like a diseased limb, shut your heart down and never looked back. You may think it’s closure but it isn’t. You may think the Janeys and Daisys of the world come along twice in a lifetime but they don’t. C’mon, move, my legs are going to cramp up.”
They ran down Market Street in silence, turned left and headed for the Fayette Street Bridge, crossing the canal again. Their strides ate the asphalt in rhythmic gulps. Their open-mouthed breathing matched. The charms on Erik’s necklace jingled as they bounced around his collarbones.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, as they jogged down the ramp back onto the bike path.
“It was Janey’s theory,” Miles said. “She’s the shrink.”
“You’re just the henchman.”
Still running, Miles reached into his pocket then held out his empty hand to Erik.
“What?” Erik said.
“It’s a fuck. I give it.” He laughed and punched Erik’s shoulder. “God, I love that line. One of Mel’s greatest.”
“I know,” Erik muttered. “Thanks, Miles.”
“It’s what we father figures are supposed to do. Slap you upside the head to point out the not-so-obvious.”
A babble of laughter behind them. A couple on rollerblades glided by, letting go hands to divert around Erik and Miles, then join again. Their legs planed side to side in perfect unison. Partners on the path.
Erik watched the lovers until they disappeared around a bend.
You Still Haven’t Kissed a Man