Chapter 2
The door was still open behind me and the hallway air was coming in cold. I hadn't let go of the suitcase handle. My left hand had gone numb a little around the papers.
Ryan didn't get up. That was the point, I think. He kept his arm around Mara on the cream sofa like I was someone who had stopped by to drop off a package. The city lights behind them blurred through the window and made the whole living room look warm, even though I could feel how cool the air was by the entry.
He looked at me and then at the suitcase.
"So you'll really just leave?" he said again, quieter this time, like he wanted to make it my decision.
I didn't answer right away. I breathed. I could hear the soft hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the faint traffic twelve floors down.
Mara shifted. She didn't look embarrassed. She pulled her legs up a little more onto the sofa and rested her hand on Ryan's chest again, fingers splayed. Her emerald dress caught the light. Then she reached without looking and picked up the throw blanket from the arm of the sofa — my throw blanket, the gray one I'd bought the first week we moved in — and pulled it over her knees.
It was such a small thing. But it was done like she knew where the blanket lived.
Ryan saw me look at it. He cleared his throat and finally sat forward a little, but he didn't stand. He didn't tell her to move.
"This place is perfect," he said. "You said that yourself when we found it. Claire, come on. You don't have to do this scene. Take your old clothes and go, stay at your sister's for a night, and we can talk tomorrow when everyone is calm. The movers will be here tomorrow and we can sort it without—"
He stopped because I moved.
I stepped inside. I didn't step back into the hall. I pulled the rolling suitcase over the threshold and the wheels made that little thump over the metal strip between the tile and the hardwood. I rolled it past the teal wall and let the door close behind me on its own weight. It clicked.
I set the papers down on the entry table. Not tossed. I placed them flat, squared the edges with my palm the way I always did with mail. My hands were shaking just enough that I had to press for a second to keep them still.
Ryan watched the papers. Mara watched me.
"I'm not going to your sister's," I said. "I live here."
Ryan laughed once, not mean, just awkward. He finally stood up, and Mara had to unfold herself to let him. He left his hand on her shoulder for a second too long.
"Claire, don't be like that," he said. He gestured around the room, at the windows, the sofa, the kitchen we'd picked together. "This is our home. It was. But if you're bringing movers and cases in here like you're making a point, what's the plan? You want us all to just stand here tonight?"
Mara stood too then. She was barefoot. I noticed her shoes tucked neatly by the sofa leg, next to Ryan's sneakers, like she'd already made a spot for them. She reached for the coffee mug on the side table — the white one with the chipped handle that I drank from every morning — and took a sip.
She didn't ask if it was hers to use.
"I just thought we could be adult about it," she said softly, looking at me. "He told me you two had already agreed to separate. I didn't want to make it weird by not being here."
I looked at Ryan. He didn't correct her. He looked at the floor, at the suitcase, anywhere but at me.
My suitcase was by my leg. The handle was still extended to my hand height. The papers were right there on the table behind me where I could reach them.
I didn't pick either of them back up. I pushed the suitcase handle down until it clicked and left it standing by the wall in the entry. It wasn't going back out into the hall.
"I'm not leaving tonight," I said. I kept my voice even. "The movers will be here tomorrow at nine. Until then, we all sleep here. You can figure out where."
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For a second nobody moved. The apartment felt too small with three of us standing. The throw blanket was still over the back of the sofa where Mara had folded it, the mug was on the coaster, her shoes by his. All those little claims sitting in plain sight.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. Mara's smile had faded. They were both standing now, looking at me and at the suitcase I'd parked inside the apartment like a line I'd drawn without saying a word.
