PART 12:

Marcus was not accustomed to people skipping the pleasantries. I wanted to reach out manto man about Victoria. Okay. I think there’s been some mischaracterization of things of our relationship and how it ended. I understand she’s moved on. I respect that. I just want to make sure the version of me she’s painting isn’t Marcus.

Ethan said, “Yeah, I’m going to stop you there.” He kept his voice level. I’m not a third party you can manage. Whatever you’re hoping this call accomplishes, it doesn’t. A pause. I’m not trying to manage anyone. You called her assistant for her schedule this morning. Tonight, you’re calling me. That’s a pattern. Silence. The easy warmth had dropped a register.

I was going to send flowers, Marcus said. For the engagement party as a gesture. She doesn’t want your gestures. I’d like to hear that from her. She said it to your face 3 weeks ago when she walked into that party holding someone else’s hand. Ethan said, “If you missed it, I’m saying it now.” Another silence.

This one had more in it. The particular texture of a person recalculating. “You’ve known her 4 months,” Marcus said. The warmth was gone now. “I knew her 2 years. I’m aware.” “Then you should be aware that she is.” He stopped, chose his words. “She’s complicated. She needs a certain kind of patience.

She can be convincing about who’s responsible for things. I just want you to be informed. There it was. Ethan recognized it the way you recognize a specific smell. The pivot from charm to undermining the plant of the seed. She’s not as she appears. I have information you don’t doubt her. I’m informed, Ethan said, about everything I need to be.

And you’re not curious about no flat final like a door closing. Don’t call me again. Don’t contact her assistant. If you need to send something to Lily, do it through Jake. That’s the whole list. A pause. Have a good night. He hung up. He stood in the hallway for a moment, the phone in his hand, the kitchen noise of Kora and her worksheet behind him.

He felt something move through him that took a second to name. Not anger exactly. steadier than anger. The particular clarity that comes from understanding a thing completely and knowing what to do about it. He texted Victoria. He called me. I handled it. He won’t bother Sarah again. I’ll tell you everything tonight.

The reply came in under a minute. Why did he have your number? Then a second later. Don’t answer that. Thank you. Then are you okay? He almost smiled at the sequence. The practical question, the self-correction, the checking. That was her exactly. Fine. He’s not complicated. Call you later. Jerkim.

He told her that night after Cora was asleep in the kitchen with the lights low because they both tended toward low light at this hour without discussing it. She listened to the whole thing without interrupting, which was how she processed. She held the information and let it settle before she responded. When he was done, she was quiet for a moment, turning her mug in her hands.

“She needs a certain kind of patience,” she repeated the way Marcus had said it. “Yeah, that’s that’s almost word for word what he said to me about myself when I started pulling away. You need more patience than most people have. It’s not a flaw. It’s just who you are.” She said it in a flat voice emptied of affect.

Make the person feel like a burden preemptively. Then when you do something wrong, they’re already explaining it away. He also said you can be convincing about who’s responsible for things. She exhaled. There it is. It’s a clean move. Tell the new person to doubt the woman’s account before the woman can give it.

Did it work? She asked directly without softening it. No, he said. I already knew you. She looked at him. You’ve known me 4 months. Four months in this apartment, he said. I know how you hold your mug when you’re thinking. I know what your voice sounds like at 11 at night when you’re tired, but won’t say so.

I know you put Kora’s drawing on the refrigerator. He paused. I know the difference between what you perform and what you actually are. Marcus was never going to get in front of that. The kitchen was quiet. She was looking at him with that expression again, the unguarded one, the one without the perimeter. And this time she didn’t recover it.

Ethan, she said, “Yeah, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest. Always. Are we?” She stopped. “What are we doing?” He took a breath. “I don’t know exactly. I need more than that.” “I know you do.” He put his mug down. Here’s what I know. I know that 4 months ago you were a stranger and now I cannot imagine this apartment without you in it.

And that’s not about convenience or routine. I know that when Marcus called today I felt he paused finding the word. Protective in a way that was specifically about you, not about a roommate, not about a friend. She said nothing. “And I know that I’m scared of it,” he said, “because the last time I built something with someone, it ended badly.

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