And he told himself that was ridiculous. And it didn't slow down. They walked for almost an hour through the neighborhood down the long street that curved along the creek back up through the park where the trees were turning and the leaves were coming down in the way they do in October. Not dramatically, just steadily, one after another, like the world quietly letting go of things it no longer needs. They talked the way they were starting to talk, easily, with room in between the words for things that weren't being said yet.
She asked about Darius, really asked the specific questions that told him she'd been paying attention to what he'd mentioned before, how Darius was doing in school, whether he still played the basketball. Marcus had mentioned once in passing whether the two of them ever talked about Darius's mother. That last question surprised him. Not enough, he said. Honestly, I worry.
I don't know. I worry that if I bring her up, I'll make it harder for him. Bring back something he's managing to get through. Clare was quiet for a few steps. I think kids need to hear their parents' names, she said.
The ones who are gone. I think not saying the name can feel like they're supposed to forget or pretend. Marcus considered that Darius talks about her sometimes. He said certain things he'll say she used to do this. She used to like that.
But I don't start those conversations. I wait for him to bring her up. Maybe he's waiting for you too. Clare said. Marcus didn't answer but she was right and he knew she was right.
And the knowing settled into him and stayed there quiet and uncomfortable in the way that true things sometimes are. They were heading back when she said almost casually. I've been thinking about the letter. Marcus kept walking at the same pace. Didn't make a thing of it.
Yeah, he said. I keep trying to figure out what I'm actually afraid of. A pause. And I think I think what scares me most isn't that it's going to hurt. I know it's going to hurt.
I'm okay with hurt. She paused again. What scares me is that he's going to say something that changes my understanding of what we were. What if there's something in there that makes the good parts feel I don't know less real? Marcus thought about that.
Do you believe he loved you? He asked. She looked at him sideways. Yes, she said without hesitation. Then whatever's in the letter, Marcus said, came from that.
Whatever he wrote, it came from a man who loved you. She was quiet for the rest of the block. When they got back to the houses, she stopped at the edge of her driveway and turned to look at him. Will you? She stopped.
This is going to sound strange. Say it anyway. Will you be there when I open it? Marcus didn't hesitate. Not even for a second.