Rows of children under blue stage lights.
Silver stars.
Trees.
A cardboard moon.
Marcus enlarged the picture.
Zoe was near the center.
His chest tightened.
Then he did what fear had taught him to do.
He documented everything.
He took a photograph of Eleanor sleeping on the couch.
Not her face closely.
Just the room.
Clock visible.
Blanket.
Distance from the hallway.
Then he immediately felt ashamed.
He hated that kindness had turned into evidence preservation.
He hated more that he believed he might need it.
Marcus wrote a note.
Ms. Whitmore,
You became heavily intoxicated at the company reception. Your phone had no power, and you could not remember the address of your new residence. No one else was available to take responsibility for getting you somewhere safe, so I brought you to my home.
You slept on the living-room couch. I am sleeping in my daughter’s room down the hall. Your phone is charging beside this note. Your dress is on the dining chair. The T-shirt and sweatpants are mine and were left for you because your clothing was stained.
Nothing happened between us.
Marcus
He stared at the final sentence.
Then underlined nothing.
That felt terrible too.
He placed the note beneath the phone.
Then he texted himself the time.
8:07 p.m.
Marcus sat in the kitchen.
His phone buzzed at 8:36.
Loretta.
She did amazing.
Then another.
She kept looking at the front row.
Marcus closed his eyes.
A video arrived.
He could not play it.
Instead he set the phone face down.
At 9:48, headlights entered the driveway.
Marcus stepped outside before Loretta reached the porch.
Zoe slept in the back seat wearing silver leggings beneath her costume.
One cardboard star had bent sideways.
Loretta studied Marcus.
“You look terrible.”
“Long night.”
“What happened?”
“My boss got drunk.”
Loretta’s eyes narrowed.
“You brought her here?”
“Yes.”
She looked toward the house.
“Marcus.”
“I know.”
“No, baby.”
Loretta had known him since he was nineteen.
She was one of the few people allowed to call him baby without getting a look.
“You know what this could look like.”
“I know.”
“Does she?”
“I don’t know what she knows.”
Loretta sighed.
“Lord.”
Marcus opened the back door.
He lifted Zoe carefully.
She stirred.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“You missed my moon song.”
The words entered him like something sharp.
“I know.”
Her eyes opened slightly.
“I looked for you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
Zoe wrapped both arms around his neck.
Then she fell half asleep again.
Marcus carried her inside.
They passed the living room.
Zoe lifted her head.
“Who’s that?”
“Someone from my job.”
“She sick?”
“Yes.”
Zoe looked toward Eleanor.
“Is she okay?”