He reached into the chest pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. She unfolded it. It was a handwritten list of three or four names and numbers. What is this? She asked.
Affordable furnished apartments within 10 mi of here, he said. Extended stays get expensive. Those places have month-to-month leases, he paused. You don't have to use them. I just know the area.
She stared at the list. When did you write this? She asked. This morning 15 I get up at 5. She looked up at him.
You got up at 5 in the morning and wrote me an apartment list. It took four minutes. Marcus Clare. She didn't have a response to that. She didn't have language yet for what to do with a person who did things like this.
Not with fanfare. Not with expectation. Just quietly and practically the way you do something because it makes sense to do it. Thank you, she said. Good luck today, he said. and he walked away down the hall, clipboard under his arm, and disappeared around the corner.
And Clare stood in the hallway of Meridian Medical Supply, holding a handwritten list of apartments, and felt the first crack appear in something she had been building around herself for a very long time. She told herself she was not going to tell anyone at work what had happened. She lasted until 11:30 when Denise from accounting caught her in the break room and said with the unairring instincts of a woman who had worked in close quarters with other people for 22 years. Honey, you look like you slept in a truck. Guest room, Clare said before she could stop herself.
Denise's eyebrows went up so fast it was almost audible. Whose guest room? It's Clare stopped. Forget I said that. I will absolutely not forget you said that.
Whose guest room? Nobody. Someone from work. Denise stared at her. The break room was empty.
The coffee maker was making its end of cycle sound. Denise set down her yogurt with the deliberate patience of a woman who had all day. Was it Marcus Reed? She asked. Clare said nothing, which was the same as saying yes.
Denise picked her yogurt back up. Hm. She said. It's not what you think. Clare said.