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restraining order a challenge I would not get involved with him. I turned onto his block and, as Murphy’s law would have it, there he was at the other end of the block, crouched over, examining the front of his Harley.
    It occurred to me that maybe this was why I hadn’t heard from him. It wasn’t that he had moved on, it was that he had been standing on his corner in the hopes that I would eventually drive by and pick him up.
    But if that was the case he should have noticed my car by now, and he definitely had not. He was too absorbed with his tire.
    I slowed the car from ten miles an hour to two. Something about Anatoly’s crouched position reminded me of certain things he used to do to me. Just drive by. If I stopped and talked to him I was bound to do something stupid, or he would do something that would make me feel stupid, and then I would be thrown into a downward spiral of lost pride and low self-esteem.
    But of course, there was a parking place just a few feet in front of him.
    Beads of sweat dampened my brow. I had two seconds to figure out what was more important to me—my dignity or parking. My God, it was like Sophie’s Choice. Of course, if I lost my dignity I could always turn to my friend Smirnoff for some much-needed comfort. But if I gave up the parking spot I might be stuck driving around my neighborhood for days, and there would be no solace since there are laws about drinking before you parked your car.
    I took a deep breath and made the only logical choice by pulling into the empty space. Anatoly looked up as I did so and I felt his eyes boring into me. Here it comes. This is the part where he walks up and tells me that we should put our differences aside and indulge in safe, casual, early-evening sex.
    Anatoly nodded in greeting as I pulled up on the emergency break and then returned all of his attention to the bike.
    Okay, self-esteem gone.
    I got out of my car. Turn around and walk away. I walked over to him. “Nice tire. Do you usually come out here to pay homage or is today a special occasion?”
    “Someone hit my bike while it was parked here. The front fairing is seriously damaged.”
    “I hate it when people try to screw with my fairing.”
    “This is going to cost me at least twenty-five hundred dollars.”
    “Seriously?” I tapped the part that he was examining. “It’s a flimsy piece of metal. How can that possibly add up to twenty-five hundred?”
    “It’s not just a piece of metal, it’s the front fairing.”
    Two months. We hadn’t spoken in two months and he wanted to complain to me about his fucking fairing? I felt my hands ball up into fists. “Well, good luck with this.” I turned and started to walk away.
    “Doesn’t that hurt your palms?”
    I slowly pivoted. “Excuse me?”
    He had straightened up and was wearing that little half smile of his. “Whenever you’re angry you make a fist, and I’ve always wondered if your nails dug into your palms. They’re long enough that it seems like they should.”
    “This is something you think about?”
    “Occasionally I wonder.”
    “Huh, what else do you wonder about?”
    “Lately, I’ve been wondering how you are.”
    “I’m fine.” I waited a beat before adding, “If that’s really been on your mind so much you could have given me a call.”
    “I didn’t think you wanted me to call.”
    “Why would you think that?” I asked.
    “Because you told me not to.”
    “Oh…and you listened to me?”
    “Didn’t you want me to?”
    Of course I hadn’t wanted him to. I had wanted him to fight for me, to ask me to come back to him and to tell me that he was hopelessly in love with me and couldn’t live without me. “Yes, I wanted you to listen…I’m just surprised that you did.”
    Anatoly nodded, then looked down at the bike again. “My insurance won’t cover this.”
    And we were back to the fairing. “I’m sure one of your clients will give you an advance if you ask them to.”
    “Business has