She invites me over for barbecue, no big deal, just her husband and a few of his army buddies. He says he’s cool with me being her friend, says that we’ve known each other for so long, we’re family. He tells his buddies she’s clumsy, and it probably cost him a fortune while he was away. The plumber and the clogged sink, for one. He doesn’t know that I came over, removed the P-trap after her ring slipped off her finger while washing her hair. I cleaned the grime wedged around the center stone, made it sparkle again, and handed it back. She didn’t want to wear it going out line-dancing that night. Beers bring the laughter, whiskey brings something else out of the dark. She picks up rows of empty bottles from the picnic table, their amber brown skins glow in front of the bonfire. He reaches out and slaps her ass, gives me a wink. His upper lip is rosy and irritated under the peach fuzz as he’s growing out the beard again. He says there’s got to be a bill waiting for him at the auto shop, she has the worst luck with cars. He doesn’t know that I’m the one she called at three in the morning after breaking down on a deserted road. Her breath like sour candied apples, bruises and nail marks on her arms and face after putting up a good fight with the guy she met on Tinder. Our cars were still connected by the chain when we pulled up to the emergency room. They start throwing dead branches into the fire, followed by anything that will burn quickly, including the patio chairs I bought for her birthday. He turns from the engulfing flames, puts a finger in her face, the vein in his forehead bulges like the back of the sea monster. He pulls her inside by the arm. His buddies and I watch their argument on mute behind the kitchen window until she draws the curtain. The row of oncoming headlights snake yellow at the overpass and turn with me onto the access road. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from her, yet we are the ends which never meet. Except once, the year before they met. We parked her Mustang in a field and rolled the top down. Watched the sky for a comet that wouldn’t come back again until both of our bodies had withered beyond recognition. We bumped heads climbing into the back seat, fumbled buttons and zippers under the stars. She said she hoped nothing would change.