I hold the mug with both hands. The heat spreads through my fingers.
That’s when I see the dogs. Molly is curled up by Sam’s boots, her chin resting on her paws. Next to her is a younger dog, medium-sized with a dark coat and calm eyes. He watches the room with his chin on his paws, too.
He glances at me once. Goes back to watching.
“That’s Rowdy,” Sam says. “Molly’s pup. I started taking him wherever I go. Hoping he’d learn from her.” He glances down at the pup. “So far, he’s been a champ.”
I nod and leave it at that.
The Monday crowd comes in. Jake arrives first, then Terrance, then a few others whose names I am still learning. They take their usual seats. There is no agenda, no check-in circle. Just coffee with people who’ve been through it, and the understanding that nobody here needs to explain themselves.
That’s what I like about this group. No one offers advice or suggestions. No one asks gentle questions to push you before you’re ready. They know you’ll talk when you want to.
Sam waits until the table settles before he looks at me again. “You going to tell me, or are we doing the quiet version today?”
“Quiet version,” I say.
He nods. “Fair enough.”
Jake coughs from two seats down. “That’s what he said last week.”
“And I respected it last week.”
“You did,” I say. “Both of you.”
I take a long sip of coffee. Set the mug down. “Tyler’s been texting.”
Sam doesn’t react. “Yeah?”
“Check-ins. Thin news. He asks how things are, and I tell him fine.”
“Is it true?”
I consider it. “Parts of it, I guess.”
Jake is quiet on his end, but I can feel him listening. Terrance hashis eyes on his coffee.
“There’s something I didn’t tell him,” I say. “A few things. I keep thinking I’ll say it, but I don’t, and now it just feels like this.” I pause, searching for the word. “Weight.”
Sam nods. “The longer you wait, the heavier it gets.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the part you’re not telling him?”
I look at the table. At the coffee ring from someone’s mug. “That I’m not here because he asked me to be.”
Nobody says anything. They don’t have to.
“I thought it was the same thing at first,” I say. “His reasons and mine. I thought they were separate.” I shake my head. “They’re not.”
Sam rests back in the booth. When he listens, he goes completely still. It always catches me off guard. The noise and anxiety seem to quiet down.
Something nudges my knee.
Rowdy had left Sam’s side of the booth and was standing at mine, nose tipped up, watching me with those same calm eyes. He hadn’t done it to anyone else at the table. He just stands there, patient and waiting.
I reach down and scratch behind his ear without thinking. He settles his chin onto my knee.
