The Real Question

“Are you okay?” I ask.
It’s not like I don’t know the answer, so it’s really more of an expression of concern than a question. Or do I just resort to an empty inquiry because I have no words of comfort to offer you?

“No.”
That’s what I thought. Of course you’re not.

“If there anything I can do, let me know. Please.”
I already know there’s very little I can do, save be there for you. So it’s more of a gentle reminder that if you need me, I’m right here. Or is that what I tell myself to help me sleep at night?

“I shall.”

Let’s order something nice tonight. I pick up my menu. Hand you yours. A starter, maybe? ‘Small Talk’ sounds nice. Don’t want to order anything too heavy. Not yet, anyway.
I don’t think our stomachs can handle it. I don’t think we’ll be able to keep it down.
Maybe we’ll order Honesty for the main course later. Who knows? Or maybe we’ll finish our starter, tip the waiter and just leave early.
Either way, I’ll eat with you.
Read: Either way, I’m here for you.

At the end of the day, the real question isn’t even ‘Are you okay?’
The real question, I realise, is “Are you going to be okay?”
And the answer?
I hope so. God, I hope so.