Known it in delas with his coffee going cold in front of him. He had felt something that didn't feel like surprise. That was the problem. Surprise would have been manageable. Surprise he could have processed and filed and moved past.
But the thing he had felt, that fractional, wordless, instinctive thing before the rational mind kicked in and started apologizing, hadn't been shock at all. It had been something quiet and certain, like recognizing a word you knew in a language you thought you'd forgotten. The whistle blew. Ava's team had scored. She turned and scanned the sideline until she found Malcolm's face, then threw both fists in the air with a grin so wide it could have powered the whole city.
He raised his fist back. He was still thinking about Clare eyes across that diner table when she'd finally said the true thing and how steady they were. How completely unafraid. He called her that night after Ava was in bed. "I haven't decided yet," he said when she picked up.
"I didn't expect you to call to tell me you'd decided," she said. It's only been 6 hours. I know. I just He sat down on the couch in the dark again. Same as the night before, but feeling entirely different.
I wanted to ask you something. "Okay." "Were you scared?" He asked. "This morning, telling me all of that.
Were you scared?" A pause. ""Yes."" "You didn't look scared." "I know. That's something I learned to do." Another pause.
Smaller. When you're the person people lean on, you figure out pretty quickly that the moment you show fear is the moment everyone starts managing your feelings instead of dealing with the actual situation. So, I learned to be scared on the inside. Malcolm turned that over in his mind for a moment. "That sounds exhausting," he said.
"It is," she said simply. Which is part of why I'm asking for 6 weeks instead of pretending none of this is happening. You're tired of being scared on the inside alone. She didn't answer immediately. When she spoke, her voice was quieter.
Something like that. He looked at the ceiling. "Six weeks," he said. "Six weeks." And at the end, we both get to be honest.
No matter what that honest answer is, that's the whole point. He was quiet for a long moment. From down the hall, he could hear the small sounds Ava made in her sleep. A shift of blankets, a murmur, the particular soft rhythm of a child completely at peace with the world. He thought about his marriage.