Her voice was slightly different. Softer. What do you get? Ava asked her. I don't know.
She looked up at Caleb. I usually just drink whatever's available at the office. That's very sad, Ava said. Caleb pressed his lips together. It kind of is, he agreed.
Natalie laughed. A real one surprised, short, unguarded. Ava looked satisfied. They walked to the elevator together. Ava between them, still holding Natalie's hand, narrating something about Gerald the fish that Natalie was responding to with complete genuine engagement.
In the elevator, Caleb looked straight ahead, but he could see it in the reflection of the metal door. Ava, animated and certain. Natalie, listening with her whole body. The composed surface dissolved into something real and unmanaged. And in the reflection, Natalie glanced up, met his eyes in the metal, held it for exactly one second, looked back at Ava.
He looked back at his own reflection. The elevator opened. They walked into the evening. November became a strange month. Not in an obvious way, in the way of small things accumulating.
Coffee three times after sessions, the three of them. Ava controlling the conversation with the efficient certainty of a small benevolent dictator. Text messages that started as scheduling and drifted. A Saturday, Ava had asked with her specific calm directness. if doctor Whitmore could come to the farmers market because she'd seen a stall selling honey that looked like something doctor Whitmore would like and Caleb had sent the text with his heart doing something irregular and Natalie had replied in 11 minutes. She came she stood at the honey stall with a 7-year-old explaining the differences between varieties with the focus of a subject matter expert and she listened to every word and she bought three jars.
Caleb stood two feet away watching two people who had only met six weeks ago talk about honey like they'd been doing this their whole lives. Darnell called him that evening. You sound different. I don't sound different. You sound like something happened.
Nothing happened. Something happened. Caleb looked at the honey on his kitchen counter. Ava had arranged the three jars by color, lightest to darkest. I took Ava to the farmers market with who?
A pause. A friend. A friend. A friend. Darnell.
Silence on the other end of the line. Caleb, don't. I'm just saying your name. You're saying my name in the voice you use when you're about to say something I don't want to hear. How long has it been?