Unplugged

Maya sat across from Julian at their favorite restaurant, his phone face-up on the table between them. The **iphone** screen lit up every thirty seconds—notifications from someone named Sarah. Each ping was a tiny paper cut.

"You gonna get that?" she asked, twisting a strand of her **hair** around her finger. The habit she'd had since college suddenly looked childish to her.

"It's work." Julian didn't even glance down. He was busy forking pieces of **papaya** into his mouth, the fruit's sweet flesh glistening in the candlelight. He'd ordered papaya on their first date. Now it felt like a weapon.

Maya's own salad sat untouched. She picked at the **spinach** leaves, suddenly remembering the night they'd met, five years ago at that dive bar in Williamsburg. She'd had spinach stuck in her teeth the entire conversation. Julian hadn't mentioned it until their second date, laughing so hard he'd spilled his drink. She'd fallen in love with that laugh.

Now he didn't laugh anymore.

"I saw the texts, Julian."

He froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Maya—"

"Your charging **cable** was on the nightstand last Tuesday. Your phone died. I plugged it in. The messages popped up right there."

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Julian set down his fork. The papaya on his plate looked suddenly grotesque, like something that had died.

"I was going to tell you," he said, finally meeting her eyes. "I just—I didn't know how."

"You didn't know how to say you'd been sleeping with your coworker for three months?" Maya's voice didn't tremble. She was surprised by her own calmness.

"It's not—I never meant for this to happen."

"Nobody ever does."

Maya stood up, smoothing her dress. She felt hollowed out, like something essential had been surgically removed. But beneath the hollow ache, something else was growing—something sharp and cold and finally, finally honest.

"The papaya was a nice touch," she said. "Bookending us like that."

"Maya, please—"

"No. I'm done being the person who waits for you to love me enough."

She walked out of the restaurant into the crisp October night, leaving Julian and his iphone and his papaya and his excuses behind. Her phone was in her purse, dead and silent and absolutely perfect.