Chapter 5
I woke to the light coming through the blinds in strips. It was just after six and the apartment was quiet in that way that made every small sound too loud.
I hadn't slept. I'd stayed in the bedroom with the door locked, the suitcase against the wall where I'd left it, the papers folded on the dresser. I could hear them at some point after two, low voices in the living room, then footsteps, then nothing. When I opened the door that morning, the cream sofa was empty, a throw blanket folded wrong, and Ryan's shoes not by the door where he always left them but kicked under the coffee table.
He was in the kitchen.
He had his back to me, his phone to his ear, his voice dropped the way he used it when he wanted to sound reasonable. He was still in the navy button-down from the night before, sleeves pushed up, collar open. He hadn't shaved.
"Yeah, it's Ryan Adler at Unit 14B," he said. "About the morning appointment. My wife and I talked it over and we're going to push it. She changed her mind."
I stood in the doorway and didn't move. The coffee maker was on and blinking. He hadn't noticed me.
"Right, no need to send the truck today," he said. "Just put us on hold for the week. I'll call back."
That was the second scene, the small lie told before coffee, the one he thought would buy him time. I watched his shoulders. He was nodding to someone on the other end like they could see him.
I cleared my throat.
He turned. His face did that quick adjustment it always did, a half-second of being caught and then smoothing over.
"Hey," he said into the phone. "Let me call you back." He hung up.
"Movers?" I asked.
He slipped his phone into his pocket. "I was just trying to give us a minute. You don't have to do this today. We didn't sleep, none of us did. Let's just —"
"Who did you call?" I said.
He hesitated. "The company. The number on the fridge."
There was no number on the fridge. There never had been.
I walked past him to the counter where I'd left my own phone the night before. I opened my email and turned the screen toward him.
I had the confirmation pulled up from last week, the one I'd paid the deposit on with my card. Jenkins Moving & Storage. Two men, eight a.m., elevator reservation, certificate of insurance on file. At 6:42 that morning I had forwarded it to the building manager and gotten back a one-line reply.
Seen. Elevator locked for 14B 8-11. — D. Ramos
"I confirmed at six thirty," I said. "And Dennis confirmed back. Elevator's reserved whether you called or not."
Ryan stared at the screen. He read it twice. I could see his jaw work.
"You already paid," he said.
"I did."
"Claire, this is our apartment," he said, quieter now. "This place is perfect. We picked everything in here together. You don't have to throw it away because you're angry for one night."
I didn't answer that. I set my phone back down and poured the coffee he'd started. The light from the window was hitting the muted teal wall and making it look gray. In the living room, I could hear movement.
Mara came out of the guest bath holding a small overnight bag. Not the suitcase, just a leather tote and a zipped garment bag with her emerald dress inside. Her hair was tied up and she had no makeup on. She looked younger without it, and tired.
She stopped when she saw us both in the kitchen.
"Did you get them on the phone?" she asked Ryan.
He didn't look at her right away. "It doesn't matter. They said they're still coming."
Mara's eyes flicked to me, then back to him. I watched her do the math in real time. She'd come to stay, not to pack, and now the logistics were not in his hands.
"You told me she was leaving," she said to him. Her voice was even, but it wasn't soft anymore.
Ryan lifted a hand. "She is. I mean — we are figuring it out. It's just stuff being moved, it doesn't mean —"
"It means the building knows," I said. I wasn't talking to Mara, I was talking to him. "It means there's a contract. You can't call and say I changed my mind when my name is on the contract and the building email."
Mara zipped her tote closed. The sound was loud in the kitchen.
"I'm not being here when they come," she said. She said it to the room, not quite to either of us. "I have work. I should go."
Ryan turned toward her. "You don't have to go. This is between me and Claire."
She gave him a small, tired smile that didn't reach her eyes. She picked up her bag, and I noticed she moved it a little farther from his feet, closer to the front door.
"That's the point," she said. "It's between you and Claire. And it looks like Claire handles her own calls."
She walked to the entry and slipped her shoes on without sitting down. Ryan followed her halfway and stopped, his hands at his sides, not knowing what to hold.
May you like
I stayed where I was by the counter, both hands around the warm mug, breathing slow. The coffee smelled burned.
At the door Mara paused and looked back at me once. I nodded, just once, the way I had the night before. She nodded back, then pulled the door open and left before the movers ever had a chance to arrive.
