Before lunch

I'm driving to the restaurant. Mario is in the car next to me at a red light. He's smoking and looking out the window like he's contemplating his entire life.

Maybe he is.

I keep thinking about Bonnie. About the woman I've invented to explain away my inability to connect with anyone in the way that seems natural to everyone else. She's a useful lie. She's protected me from having to answer too many questions about why I don't date.

But lies have expiration dates. Eventually people stop believing them. Eventually you stop believing them.

I pull up to the restaurant and Mario is already there, smoking on the corner, looking like he's about to throw up or start a fight or both.

"You ready for this?" I ask.

He looks at me like he doesn't understand the question.

"No," he finally says. "But I'm doing it anyway."

And that, I think, is the most honest thing Mario has said in years.