And think not that it's impressive, not that it's more than expected from someone in my position, just that it's real, that what I put in the world is real and it mattered. A pause and I want, he stopped. Say it, she said, and it was exactly what he'd said to her on the phone. He recognized it. He looked at her.
I want someone to sit at that table on Sunday mornings, he said. When Amara is eating and I'm making coffee and the light is, he stopped again. Then I haven't wanted that in a long time. I forgot I wanted it. The silence between them was the kind that had weight.
Olivia looked at her hands. I haven't sat at anyone's table on a Sunday morning in 4 years, she said. I eat at my desk most Sundays. I know, Marcus said gently. How do you know?
Because you look like someone who forgot what it feels like to not be somewhere else in your head. She looked at Adam and Marcus looked back and for one long moment neither of them said anything and the afternoon sat around them like something cupped in two hands and Marcus thought there is something here. He knew it the way he knew the difference between a beam that would hold and a beam that wouldn't. Not because anyone told him, because he could read what was real. And then Olivia's watch went off an alarm she'd set.
He assumed for the meeting she'd been rearranging in her head, and she slid off the tailgate and straightened her jacket and was in the span of about 4 seconds entirely herself again. "I have to go," she said. "I know." She picked up her bag, started toward the car, stopped. "My father wants to have dinner Friday night. He asked me to invite you and Amara if she'd like to come.
She was facing away from him as she said it. The words coming out slightly faster than her usual pace. He'd really like it. He talks about her. Marcus was quiet for a second.
Friday night. Yes. She turned just slightly. You don't have to. He just We'll be there, Marcus said.
She turned fully and for a moment her face was entirely open. No armor, no calibration, just Olivia. And she looked something close to relieved, which was the last thing he would have predicted from a woman who'd seemed to need nothing. 7:00, She said. 7:00, He confirmed.
She left and Marcus sat on the tailgate of his old truck for a moment. In the afternoon, quiet before Deshawn walked over and leaned against the side of the truck with his arms crossed and said nothing, which meant everything. Don't. Marcus said I didn't say anything. Deshawn said you were about to.
I was about to say that woman drove 12 mi to bring us lunch. A pause. And that she looked at the whole time she was talking to me. Desawn. I'm just noting facts.
Marcus got off the tailgate. Get back to work. Already going. Desawn said already walking. Not bothering to hide the smile.