Marcus picked up his coffee. Just an observation. Clare was quiet for a moment. You got all that from one look across a restaurant. 9 years reading engines, he said simply.
You learn to listen to what things are actually doing instead of what people tell you they're doing. She studied him. Do you do that with people too all the time? Can't help it. And what am I doing?
She asked. Instead of what I'm telling you I'm doing. Marcus looked at her directly. You're grieving. He said, "You came in here tonight thinking you were running from a marriage, but what you're actually grieving is the version of yourself you were supposed to become, the one your grandmother built the blueprint for. " He paused.
"And part of you loved that version. Part of you wanted it to be enough, and it wasn't. And you're sad about that, not just relieved. " Clare's breath hitched. She pressed her lips together. For a moment, she said nothing, and Marcus didn't push.
He just held the space the way he'd learned to hold spaces, not filling them, not rushing toward them, just letting them be what they needed to be. "How do you know that? " she said finally. Her voice was lower than before. "Because that's what it looks like," he said. "When someone loves the cage a little, even while they're trying to get out of it," she looked down at her tea.
That's the most uncomfortable true thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm sorry. Don't be. She shook her head slowly. I asked a few tables away.
A family laughed at something. Kids voices rising above the general restaurant noise. A mother shushing that didn't quite work. A father's low chuckle. Marcus glanced over for just a second.
Two kids, maybe six and eight. He thought about Deshawn. Wondered if the babysitter had gotten him to sleep yet. Wondered if Deshawn had asked where he was. He always asked.
Your son, Clare said as if she'd followed his eyes. You were thinking about him just now. Yeah. What's he like? Marcus felt that small warm thing in his chest again.
He's He stopped, smiled in a way he didn't plan. He's the loudest quiet kid you've ever met. Doesn't say much to people he doesn't know. Gets in a room of strangers and you'd think he was shy. Then you get him alone and he won't stop talking.
He shook his head. Last week he explained to me for 45 minutes why the brachiosaurus was underrated. Not T-Rex, not Velociraptor. Brachiosaurus. He had arguments like a little lawyer.