"I don't know Croaker, I think you are just miss reading it, " she says.
"I'm telling you there is more to it."
Her face says there is something more, but what it is I can't tell and she won't say.
Our food arrives. She ordered just the salad. I the soup.
"I don't know," she continues, "I haven't seen you together."
I stop probing. It is evident I am not going to get her to say more, so it would probably be critical. I'm not immune to criticism but in this particular case I've probably already heard it all and agree with most. Still I am intrigued. The subjects shift to my lack-of-work job, my ideas for another tattoo and Halloween.
It turns out the question leads to more harm then good. Not with Sam but with someone else. Maybe I already know the answers to the why. I have my own opinions. They have been mentioned before. I've considered them and I know I am not ready to change them.
We all make choices. God knows, mine aren't always good-- at least not good for me. Sometimes though, someone thinks the choice is good for them and that makes it good enough.
