Chapter 7

Then I know exactly what he is trying to say.

Until now, I was unclear about the sheriff’s sexuality. Do I fight the urges or embrace them?

We sit in painful silence for what feels like hours.

I finally say, reaching across the small space for another Oreo even though I am not hungry, “These past two years of my life have been lonely too.”

He lifts his head.

We stare at each other. I watch the resilient law-and-order man in front of me turn soft, like a rose losing its petals. He wipes his eyes with the end of his thick index finger. Then, before I realize what he is doing, the sheriff reaches between us and brushes my tear-stained face with a gentle stroke of his hand. It is like the time in the IGA when the sheriff reached across me for an apple, his hand slightly bumping into mine, innocently. Or was it?