She does. Okay, Kesha said that was all just okay. Marcus got out of the van and went into the school gym and found Darius on the court warming up and his son looked up and found him in the stands immediately, the way kids always know when the specific parent they need is in the room. And gave him a single nod. Marcus nodded back.
He sat in the bleachers and watched his son play basketball and thought about Kesha's question, "Do you love her? " and the answer he hadn't given and whether not giving it was honest or just afraid. He decided it was probably both. Darius's team won by six. On the way home, Darius was running hot on adrenaline and talked the entire drive, recapping every key play, and Marcus let him talk and responded in all the right places and was genuinely happy about the win and also was thinking about something else in the background the whole time. When they pulled into the driveway, the porch light next door was on, but Clare's car wasn't there.
Marcus noticed the absence of the car before he noticed anything else, which told him something about himself, he didn't have time to sit with because Darius was already out of the car and heading for the door. He went inside, made dinner, checked his phone. No texts from Clare, he didn't text her either. But at 8:15, headlights swept across his living room window, her car pulling in, and Marcus became aware that he had at some point positioned himself on the couch with a direct line of sight to that window. He stood up and went to the kitchen.
He was very deliberately making himself a drink of water when his phone buzzed. Clare, sorry, long day. Ran some errands. How was the game? Marcus Darius scored 12.
We won, Clare. Tell him I said congratulations. Marcus looked at the phone. Typed. You could tell him yourself.
A pause. Then is that an invitation? He stared at the question. Typed if you want it to be. Another pause.
Longer this time. Then give me 10 minutes. He put the phone down on the counter. Told himself to stop smiling. Didn't stop.
She came over and Darius, who was still wound up from the win, told her every detail of the game in a 15-minute monologue that would have exhausted most adults. And Clare listened to the whole thing with the kind of focused attention that kids can feel in their bones, the real kind, not the plight kind, and asked two or three questions that made Darius realize it actually understood what he was describing. And Marcus watched his son's face do something. He hadn't seen it do in a long time. His son looked comfortable fully, easily, naturally comfortable.
Like this was a normal Saturday night. Like this was just how things were. Marcus felt something enormous and quiet happen inside him. He didn't say anything. He just watched.
Later, after Darius finally went to bed, they sat in the living room, not the kitchen this time. The living room which was a different room with different furniture and different light and Marcus was aware that this was new that they were gradually without discussion expanding the geography of what was ordinary between them. She said, "Can I ask you something personal? " Yeah. What do you miss most about her? He didn't flinch.