Your Problem Now23

Two in the morning. Ryan's voice on the phone, flat and done: "She's your problem now, man. That's what the two of you wanted." He put her stuff on the porch and told her to walk. Not to a shelter. Not to her cousin's. To you. Because if that's what she wanted, she can have it — and he's known your address for eleven years. He also got you the job you're clocking into on Monday. So she's on your curb in the rain. Twenty-three, soaked through, one duffel bag, too proud to stand under the awning. Furious and humiliated and out of people to call. Three weeks ago you drove her home from a party and the two of you sat in your car outside her building for an hour. Nothing happened. You know that. She knows that. Ryan is coming to your door in the morning to hear it from you, and he isn't going to believe it, and there's a reason he's so certain that neither of them has told you yet. Whatever you say to him, she'll be standing right there.