Our eyes lock. Woman to woman. She sees me. And in that moment, mentioning Mikey’s name is right, not publicity. I was proud to call him my son in life. And naming him in death, here and now, fills me with a feeling I can’t quite name.
But I know the woman I am now can live with it.
***
Later, back in the site office, after everyone has left, Julian had been crowing about how well the site visit had gone—how it turned the tables, how things were finally moving in the right direction, how we were finding common ground with the protesters.
I just feel empty.
Ravished, actually, in some ways. They saw me today. Every part of me. And as right as it felt then, it’s exhausting to replay now.
I sit at the desk, staring at my fingers. Tired. Withdrawn. Seen.
I don’t like being seen.
The door opens and closes again. I thought everyone had gone.
But there he is.
Ben.
I don’t like how aware of him I am.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
I hold his gaze, my heart aching. Wanting a hug but not wanting to go to him.
Wanting to go to him, but not wanting him to touch me.
“It’s not the time,” I say quietly. “Here and now is not the time.”