Chapter 6
Imani picked me up from work that evening.
My manager had arranged for someone to walk with me to the front entrance. I felt embarrassed accepting help until I saw how worried Imani looked. I told her about Andre’s call. She parked outside her building and waited while I checked that he had not followed us.
“I can handle him being angry,” I said. “I can’t handle him turning up wherever I go.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone.”
That night, I called Serena. I told her about the email and the call to my office.
“He came to my mother’s house yesterday,” she said. “I didn’t let him in.”
We agreed to keep records of further contact. I sent her a copy of his email because it concerned her too.
Marcus called an hour later. Serena had told him.
“Are you safe?” he asked.
“I’m at Imani’s.”
“Does your manager know not to give out information?”
“Yes.”
He paused. “Andre came by my brother’s place.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“He wanted me to believe you’d promised to leave me,” Marcus said. “I told him to go. He stood there insisting I should hear his side.”
“I never promised that.”
“I know. I’ve read the messages.”
Relief rose in me, followed at once by grief. Marcus should not have had to investigate my word.
“I’m sorry he came to you,” I said.
“He made his own choice.”
We hung up after making sure each of us knew where Andre had been. It was the most we had spoken without arguing since dinner, and I hated the reason for it.
A few days later, Serena asked if I would go with her to return Andre’s remaining things. She did not want to see him. He had agreed to collect boxes from the lobby of their building while the doorman was there.
I went with Imani instead of going alone. Serena’s mother joined us.
We packed the last box together. A framed photograph of Serena and Andre lay on top of a stack of books. She picked it up, looked at it for a long time, then set it aside.
“I thought we were choosing a home,” she said quietly.
Her mother put an arm around her.
I wanted to disappear. I had caused some of this pain, and there was nothing useful I could say. I kept packing.
When Andre arrived, the doorman took the boxes out to him. Serena stayed upstairs. From the lobby window, I saw Andre look toward the elevator. He waited a moment, then carried the boxes away.
Serena released a breath she had been holding.
“Thank you,” she said to all of us.
I went back to counseling the next morning.
I spoke about the first time Andre had complained to me about Serena. It had happened at a game night. Marcus was in the next room helping clear plates. Andre said Serena did not listen to him anymore. I had offered sympathy and then told him how I sometimes felt that Marcus was too busy to hear me.
“Did you tell Marcus you felt that way?” the counselor asked.
“Once. He asked if we could talk after his shift. I was angry he couldn’t talk immediately.”
“Did you go back to him later?”
“No. I went to Andre.”
Saying it aloud showed me how many chances I had passed up to speak honestly with the man I loved.
When I got home, I found Marcus’s birthday gift on Imani’s kitchen table.
For a moment, I thought he had come by. Then I saw the note.
I found this while sorting the apartment. I bought it before dinner. It belongs to you. You can decide when to open it.
Imani said his brother had dropped it off.
I carried the box into the guest room. I did not open it. I set it in the closet beside my suitcase.
A week later, I met Marcus at a quiet diner. He chose a booth where we could sit across from each other.
“Serena told me you helped her pack,” he said.
“She asked me to.”
“I’m glad she had people there.”
He stirred his coffee, though he had added nothing to it.
“I’ve been talking to someone too,” he said.
“A counselor?”
He nodded. “I needed to say some things without watching your face.”
“I’m glad you have that.”
“I’m angry. I miss you. Sometimes both things happen in the same minute.”
My eyes filled.
“I’ve been thinking about what we were like before this,” he continued. “I don’t want to decide our future because I miss the past.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He looked at me carefully.
“Could we talk again next week? I’m not promising anything beyond that.”
May you like
“Yes.”
After he left, I sat in the booth with my untouched tea. For the first time, I had no secret answer I was trying to steer him toward. I wanted him to know me as I was, even if he chose to walk away.
