The girls at the table giggle then avert their eyes while they stifle the cruel outbursts of amusement. Megan feels her head spin, reality unwinding with her now bruised heart at the middle of the turmoil.

And there is her love, her boyfriend, her James, staring at her expectingly. What does he what? What does that look mean? Could this be a joke, a very bad joke in incredibly poor taste.

No, she has seen this look before. Years of Catholic school and Mass every Sunday. This is the look of the devoted taking quiet humble steps forward to receive Communion. This is the look of the penitent. Megan knows what he wants. He wants forgiveness. He wants clean, neat closure. He wants, “Oh, it’s okay James. C’est la vie.” He wants absolution.

The world snaps back into crystal clarity and a new emotion subsumes the shock and dismay. Megan welcomes it, revels in it for the split second before she acts. She will not give him absolution.

With a wicked smirk, Megan rears back her hand, and she slaps him.