Neither Mark nor Greg had mentioned the details of their lengthy conversation, and now that I was no longer talking to Greg, Mark was my only source of information. I tried to get Mark to give me a summary of their talk. That was a laugh. He refused to give up a single detail despite my threat to withhold cookies.
Greg didn’t take my decision easily when I said I didn’t think it was a good idea to continue seeing him. He accepted that and understood. I explained it wasn’t fair to either of them and I didn’t want to string him along. That hadn’t stopped him from calling me. I could count on him getting in touch about every other day. As best as I could figure, Greg had his own game plan. He didn’t ask me out because he knew I would refuse. I kept the conversations short and always ended by letting him know it would be best if he found someone else.
He said he would try and had actually started dating again. Still, he called. I guess he wanted to reassure me he remained interested and cared about me. When I met and married Paul, I felt fortunate to have found one good man. Now I had two interested in me. This was heady stuff. While I hated being the peanut butter in the middle of the sandwich, at the same time I felt incredibly blessed.
On Wednesday afternoon, Bob and Peggy Beldon stopped by out of the blue to see Mark. Peggy brought him her signature blueberry muffins, which Mark immediately scarfed down like a man half starved. He was still much too thin, and I looked forward to seeing him add a few pounds.
“Good to see you upright, man,” Bob said, taking a seat across from him.
“It feels good, too.”
They started talking about woodworking, and I excused myself. Peggy followed me into the kitchen. I figured the two men would appreciate a few minutes alone, and Peggy was looking for a bit of girl time with me.
“Mark looks great.”
“He’s improving, thank God.” And I did thank Him, every day. I’d come so close to losing him. My biggest fear was a relapse.
“Bob tells me Mark’s thinking about going back.”
I froze.
“Has Mark given a hint of what he’s decided?” I asked, dread making my tongue thick.
“Not yet.” I knew he had to be close to making a decision.
“Are you worried?” Peggy asked, sitting on the stool while I placed the casserole I’d put together for dinner in the oven.
“Yes.” I couldn’t deny it. “But at the same time hopeful.”
Not long after Bob and Peggy left, Mark took a short rest before holing himself up in his room. Rover walked past and nudged open the door and I heard Mark on the phone, speaking in Arabic. It had to be Ibrahim he was talking to, but then again, maybe not. The conversation didn’t appear to be going well and they seemed to be having some disagreement, if their raised voices were anything to go by.
Not wanting to pry, I waited for Mark to mention it later that evening over dinner. He didn’t, and that concerned me. Although I was determined not to say anything, my curiosity got the best of me.
“I heard you earlier,” I stated casually, as I reached for a slice of bread. “You were on the phone with Ibrahim. Or at least I assumed it was Ibrahim.”
“You heard me?”
This was his way of saying that the door had been closed.
“I wasn’t purposely listening in, if that’s what you think. Rover was trying to get into your room and must have nudged the door open. I…I just happened to be walking past when I heard your voice.”
He didn’t volunteer any information, although I looked pointedly at him. He ignored me and continued eating his dinner. My stomach was in knots. I set my butter knife down and folded my hands in my lap as I sorted through the conflicting emotions coming at me. He had no obligation to explain himself and it was apparent he had no wish to do so. It was the last bit that hurt. It took me a couple moments to decide to press the issue a bit more. “It sounded like the two of you had a difference of opinion. Is everything all right with him and Shatha?”
“Who said it was Ibrahim?”
“Was it?” I asked.
He nodded, giving no indication what had been the source of their disagreement, although I could well