He told her how that skill had felt for years, like the one thing he had that was truly his. He didn't tell her about Diane. Not yet. But he told her more than he had told most people in four years. And by the time the sun had moved significantly across the sky, and they both realized they had been sitting there for the better part of the afternoon.
Marcus noticed that the hollow feeling behind his sternum had changed slightly. Not gone, but different. Less like an emptiness and more like a space where something might eventually fit. They walked back to the parking lot together without formally agreeing to do so. It just happened.
The way some things do when a conversation has reached a point where its end feels premature. Well, Clare said when they reached the spot where their directions diverged. I'm glad I tripped on that rope. Even though you bruised your ego, especially because of that, she tilted her head slightly. I'm sorry I haven't been a better neighbor.
I mean that. You've been fine. I've been absent, she said. There's a difference. She looked at him directly.
And there was something in her expression that was both confident and oddly vulnerable. Like she was aware of the exposure but deciding to accept it. Can I ask you something direct? Yeah. You seem like a man who is very good at making sure other people are okay and has completely forgotten to apply that standard to himself.
She said it without judgment. As a simple observation. Am I wrong? The question hit somewhere unexpected. He didn't answer immediately.
Maybe, he said finally. It's not a criticism, she said. I recognize it because I do the same thing professionally. I spend all day making sure other people's businesses are healthy, and I go home to an apartment where I haven't bought new furniture in 2 years because it doesn't feel worth doing for just myself. She paused.
Anyway, I just thought I'd say it. She started walking. Clare, he called. She turned. Maybe we should get coffee sometime, he said.
Like normal neighbors. She smiled. And it was the real version, not the polished professional one. Yeah, she said. Maybe we should.
Marcus drove home with the windows down. He picked Jallen up at Linda's house and they made dinner together. The boy chattering endlessly about his afternoon, demanding Marcus' full attention with the total confidence of a child who had never had reason to doubt it would be given. And Marcus gave it easily, the way he always did. But something was different that night when Jallen was asleep and the house was quiet again.