And I need to understand, Marcus, is this serious? This woman you've been seeing? He kept his voice level. Yes, he said. It is a sharp breath on her end.
Marcus, Maya is 11 years old. She just lost her mother 3 years ago. She doesn't need Gloria, Marcus said, and something in his voice made her stop. Not harsh, just clear. The specific clarity of a man who had done the work and was no longer willing to defend it.
I hear you. I hear the concern, but I need you to hear me clearly. Maya is thriving. She is healthy and happy and loved, and she has not been harmed by my choices. She has been included in them.
He paused. What I will not do is apologize for living. Renee would not have asked that of me. I know that. You know that, too.
Silence. She loved you, Gloria said finally. And her voice had changed, gone quieter, more honest. We all did. We all do.
It's just it goes fast, Marcus. Life goes fast and we're still still back there, he said. Yeah, she said. Some of us are still back there. I know, he said.
But I can't be. Maya needs me here. Present, moving, another silence, softer. Tell me about her, Gloria said finally. This Olivia, he did.
He told Gloria the same kinds of things he'd told Sandra. Honest, specific, not a sales pitch. Who Olivia was, what she did, how she treated Maya, what it looked like when Mia talked to her, what it felt like to have someone in his corner. When he finished, Gloria was quiet for a moment. She sounds solid, she said.
She is, Marcus said. All right, Gloria said, "I can't promise Sandra is going to come around fast. She processes slowly. Always has, I know, but I'll talk to her. That's all I'm asking." He hung up.
He sat in his office for a minute. Then he went out to the floor and put his hands on a car and did the work because the work was always there and it always helped. That evening he told Olivia about the Gloria call. They were on the phone late, the usual time. She listened and when he finished she said, "How are you?" "Tired," he said.