A Welcome Grave by Michael Koryta Page A

I didn’t say anything, though. If there’s one thing I’m worse at than handling a relationship, it’s discussing a relationship. A conversationalist who doesn’t want to converse about the real important things. So what did that make me? A shallow, stupid man? Uh-oh, maybe I hadn’t been joking.
    “Rough couple of days for you,” Amy said then, probably just to fill the silence.
    “Oh, yeah.” I sat with my head down and took a long, deep breath. It had been a hell of a couple of days, at that.
    She reached down to me, her cool fingers sliding across my neck, and began to massage the spot where my upper back muscles joined my neck muscles. I sighed gratefully and tilted my head back and to the side, feeling tension drain away. Her hands were small and delicate, but strong. Every other part of my body seemed to disappear, and I existed only in about one square inch justabove my shoulder blade. That slight touch was reminding me—not for the first time, or even the five hundredth—just how bad I wanted her.
    Do you know what it means when your friendship starts making a thwackity thwack sound that progresses to a clankity clank? Yes. It means you screwed up. And how to fix it? Stop being scared
.
    She worked on my back for a few more minutes, then stopped, running her nails gently up my neck before pulling her hand away. I twisted my head and looked up at her.
    “Thank you.”
    “Sure. Looked like you needed it.”
    “More than you know.”
    I put the heels of my hands against the floor, pushed myself upright, and slid onto the couch beside her. She was curled up against the armrest, watching me. I looked back at her and tried to remember why I’d always avoided making a move with her, what I’d been waiting for. My basic logic had seemed sound enough at first: My track record of sustaining romantic relationships was poor at best, and Amy was too good a friend to risk losing. Maybe Grace had a point, though. Maybe I should stop worrying about what could go wrong with it and see what could go right. Maybe the moment was now.
    I’d actually started to lean toward her when she said, “I’ve got to stop thinking of you as a relationship possibility.”
    I stayed where I was at first, caught in that awkward half lean, and then I pulled back and raised my eyebrows.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “It wouldn’t work, you know? We’d be at each other’s throats. We are half the time anyhow, and that’s in a friendship. Too many similarities. We’ve made the right decision, or maybe you made it for both of us, and I just need to do a better job of being grateful for that. I apologize. Good friends are hard to find, and painful to lose, Lincoln. I don’t want that to happen here.”
    I hadn’t actually made the move to kiss her, but I felt like I had, and now I was struggling to connect with the sudden turn in the conversation.
    “You have nothing to apologize for,” I fumbled.
    “I let some emotions get away from me the other day, that’s all. The questions I asked you, like how many successful relationships I’ve managed since I met you, those should have been questions I directed at myself.”
    “Actually, I was thinking—”
    “
Damn!
” Her eyes had gone to her watch.
    “What?”
    “I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee twenty minutes ago. I didn’t realize how long I’d been here. I just wanted to drop off that article and apologize, that’s all.”
    She was on her feet, gathering her purse.
    “Let’s not cut off this conversation here and forget about it,” I said.
    She gave me a hurried nod as I followed her to the door. “Sure, we’ll come back to it, but I really do have to run out of here. Sorry, Lincoln. I’ll talk to you soon.”
    “I hope so,” I told the door as it swung shut.
    A minute later, I went down to the parking lot as if to catch her, even though I’d heard her drive away. The lot was empty, none of the night owls hitting the gym tonight. I stood with my hands in my