Nikki and I are sharing a bottle of wine at a new restaurant in my neighborhood. Her boyfriend Tom is outside, phone glued to his ear, fighting with his wife. He’s been outside for five minutes already, after a rush of angry text messages. He’s smoked two cIgarettes. He’s pacing.
She pours wine into my glass, then hers. We watch him pace.
The lull is uncomfortable. It’s hard to scare up conversation when one is watching one’s friend watch her boyfriend fight with his wife.
“What’s up with Bob,” I ask. I wish I hadn’t.
She shrugs. Bob is Tom’s wife’s boyfriend. A true modern American dysfunctional family on the rocks.
“I’m not sure if I’m staying with Tom because I love him, or because I need to find Bob.”
Nikki’s been looking for Bob for the better part of the year. He’s the only person who can help her put…
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