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They say I'm not ready to talk to others about this yet, that I haven't fully separated myself from the blame. If I didn't own part of it, though, I wouldn't be me. What's more, without acknowledging my mistakes, how can I avoid making them again? I believe you'll find my experience compelling, though. Let me take you back to my junior year in college...

*

I'd been serving at Carl's Diner since my second year of undergrad, picking up enough extra money to cover what my parents and financial aid couldn't. I'd already written "3 Coff" on my check pad and was getting ready to move to my next table, when I heard a man speak up.

"Actually, I'll have hot tea, if you don't mind." Carl's is not on campus. It's actually a fair bit away from the school, which is why I went to work there. Less competition, and it was a break from the stress of daily academia. Hearing a man order tea in a college coffee shop was commonplace. Hearing it in a greasy spoon was enough of a break from routine that I almost stumbled.

"One tea, got it." I tried not to connect with the locals. One more year and I was out of this town, and on to something grand. My fantasies were endless. I was going to make a difference in this world, and by God it was going to happen before I hit thirty. Still, I couldn't help but look at my smiling customer, who knew he'd thrown me for a loop.

"I don't trust coffee that's been sitting in a pot since you opened up for the day," he said. Still smiling. Waiting for me to find my way out of his hypnotic eyes and say something. This many years later, I don't remember what I might have said. I do remember that he wrote his number on the check when he paid for his breakfast. I remember calling him, and spending more than two hours on the phone before we decided we should be going out somewhere.

*

A year later. School was over. I had my degree. I didn't see the need to go on to grad school right away, particularly not when my portion of the bill would be more painful than it had been in four years of undergrad. I was looking at several companies to go work for, all of which would require that I pick up and move across the country. I didn't know how I was going to break it to Jonah.

We'd had a fantastic year. On that first date, over tea, we'd talked about all the things we both liked, some of the things we both hated, and all the things we found wrong with the world. Two young idealists. My God, but if we weren't cut from the same cloth, it was so close it made no difference.

He

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