Emissary

Four pm.

I stepped out of the house for the first time that day, heading out to the highlight of my day: soccer practice. An impromptu meeting with Sister of The Ex interrupted my short journey to the bus stop.

“She has had enough time to decide what it is she really wants,” declared Sister of The Ex, without saying who ‘she’ is. I was supposed to get it automatically.

“If I had the choice I would choose her messenger instead.”

She averted her gaze. “You don’t have the choice.”

“Well played!”

“She wants to be friends. NOT pretend-friends.”

“The very fact that she sent you means she wants to be pretend friends.”

“Tony! Don’t be a hard man.”

“Me, a hard man? This is me giving her a break! She needs to take my break seriously.”

“You two are impossible. So? What do I tell her?”

“Let her tell me by herself.”

She paused reflectively. “You won’t even try, will you?”

“That depends. For you, maybe.”

“Please, do us all a favor? Never bring this up again.”

We laughed and parted ways.

I couldn’t help laughing quietly to myself throughout the whole journey to the soccer pitch. With her, it always feels like conversational chess.