Patterson's chair when she leaves because she won't let him, but she'll let me. She came at noon and stayed until 6:00. They ordered pizza. Lily put a bow bright yellow enormous on Mrs. Patterson's kitchen chair and Mrs.
Patterson made a sound that was half protest and entirely love. They watched half a movie before Lily fell asleep on the couch with her head on a throw pillow and her library book face down on her stomach. Marcus carried her to bed. He came back out. Clare was washing the pizza plates, not because it needed to be done that moment, just because her hands needed something to do.
He came and stood next to her. They washed dishes in silence for a while. I'm going to miss this, he said. Not the dishes. Not the house.
Me too, she said. I'll be back in 3 weeks, he said. For the meridian transition handoff, I know. And Nashville's not 4 hours, she said. I know that, too.
He turned off the faucet. He turned to look at her right there. No distance between them. in the kitchen of the house that had the horse drawing on the refrigerator and the mismatched mugs and all the ordinary extraordinary evidence of a life built on love and stubbornness and showing up every single day. I'm scared, he said. Just that flat and honest and real.
Of Nashville, she asked of all of it, he said. Nashville, you wanting things I'm not used to letting myself want. His voice was low. I've been strong for so long. I don't know what it looks like to need something.
She looked at him. You told me once that being strong doesn't mean carrying everything alone. I say that to Lily. You should say it to yourself. He was very still.
You're allowed to need things. She said, "You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to want a life that's yours." She looked at him directly. No softening, no buffer.
And you're allowed to let someone stand next to you while you figure out what that looks like. That's not weakness. That's just being a person. He looked at her for a long moment. Then something changed in his face.
Not dramatically. Not with theatrics. Just a very quiet release of something he had been holding for a very, very long time. "Okay," he said. She nodded.