The doors closed. The train pulled away. And market sat tin in his seat. The warmth on his shoulder already fading with those three words sitting in his chest like something he didn't know what to do with. I wasn't sleeping.
What did that mean? He turned it over for the rest of the commute. He turned it over while he changed into his work uniform. He turned it over during his first call of the day, a faulty relay switch on the orange line, and his second and his third. He was turning it over at 11:45 a.m. when his foreman, a big Haitian man named Dearoo, who had known Marcus for 9 years, handed him a coffee and said, "Where are you right now?" "Because you are not here." Marcus looked up.
"I'm here. You are not here. You've redone that junction box three times. It was right the first time. Marcus looked down at the junction box.
It had been right the first time. He put down his tools. Dev, he said. If a woman tells you she wasn't sleeping, what does that mean? Dero stared at him for a long moment.
Depends, he said. Was she sleeping? She was definitely sleeping. For how long? 32 minutes.
Another long pause. Marcus Daru said slowly. Who is this woman? a co-orker. We never really talked before today. Devou picked up his own coffee, took a slow sip, and she told you she wasn't sleeping after sleeping on you for 32 minutes.
Yeah, and you're thinking about it at 11:45 a.m. I'm not thinking about it. I'm just You're thinking about it. Devo set down his cup. I'll tell you what it means. It means she wants you to think about it.
That's what it means. Marcus said nothing. How long has it been? Devo said carefully. Since a woman made you think about something, Marcus didn't answer that either.
But they both already knew. 3 years, 2 months, and 17 days. That was how long it had been since Renee died. Ovarian cancer. Diagnosed in April.
Gone by August. 4 months. That was all the time the disease had given them. 4 months to go from it's probably nothing to we need to talk about paliotative care. four months of hospitals and treatments and side effects and Amara being 5 years old and not understanding why mommy was always so tired and Marcus being 31 years old and not understanding how the universe could be this brutal. He didn't talk about Renee, not at work, not with neighbors, not even much with Mrs. Patterson who had known them as a couple who had been at the funeral and held Amara while Marcus stood at the graveside and tried to remember how to breathe.