Daniel's not wrong, she said. The check came. Marcus picked it up. Olivia reached for it. I got it, Marcus said.
We can I got it, he said again quietly, firmly, not making a big thing of it. She looked at him for a moment. Then she let him pay outside on the sidewalk. She had to go right and he had to go left. They stood there for a second in the specific unresolved way of two people who haven't figured out what they are to each other yet.
Thank you for lunch, she said. Thank you for the reset on the washer idea, he said. She smiled. That was your idea. Then thank you for calling and telling me it worked.
She looked at him. The afternoon light was the same kind of warm low light from her mother's kitchen. And her eyes in that light were the kind of eyes that had seen enough to be careful and still chose everyday to stay open. I'll talk to you soon, she said. It wasn't a question.
Yeah, Marcus said she went right, he went left. He got back to the shop, sat in his office chair, and stared at the wall for approximately 7 minutes before Dawn knocked and said there was a Taho out front with a busted alternator. Marcus stood up. "Yeah," he said. "Send him in." He went out to the floor.
He looked at the Tahoe. He ran the diagnostic. He did not think about Olivia Coleman. He thought about Olivia Coleman the entire time. That night, Maya was doing homework at the kitchen table when Marcus' phone buzzed.
He picked it up. Daniel, hey man, you and Olivia have lunch today. Marcus went completely still. He sat down the spatula he was holding. He looked at his phone.
He looked at Maya, who was not looking at him, who was doing her homework with the focused determination of a child who had not yet learned to pretend she wasn't listening. He typed back. Yeah. She said she was in the neighborhood. I was around.
Three dots then. Cool. She text me saying you were good people. Three more dots. Then she hasn't said that about anybody in years.
Man. Marcus read that twice. He set his phone face down on the counter. He picked up the spatula. Dad.
Maya said without looking up from her homework. Something's burning. He turned the stove down. Dad. Maya said again in the same tone.