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The list of practices is on the counter where it has been since January. I fold it twice. The bin is directly beneath the sink and I stand there with the paper in my hand long enough to be embarrassed about it, and then I put it in the kitchen drawer instead.
Eight days ago Colt asked me to marry him and I said no.
His name sits in my phone above the lawyer’s.
Are you home?
The answer comes almost immediately.
Just got back. You coming over?
Yes.
He sends the address with no question attached to it. I change my shirt, put the lawyer’s folder into my bag, and make it as far as the front door before I stop.
Then I take it out again.
His car is in the drive. Mine fits beside it with enough room left over that I could open both doors without thinking about it.
I turn off the engine and sit there.
The house is larger than I expected.
For years I have paid the rent, kept Tova in one school, worked Saturdays, and put money aside for a front door that would belong to us. I would like all of that to count for something before I walk through his.
The door opens before I reach it.
Colt is in a Stampede shirt and gray track pants with his hair still damp at the temples, and I had the first sentence prepared in the truck, and for a few seconds none of it is available to me.
“Come on in. I just put coffee on.”
I step inside.
“You found it all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. People drive past it and blame the house.”
His hand touches the middle of my back as I go by, once, and I keep walking instead of turning into him.
The kitchen has a table long enough to leave work at one end and eat at the other. Afternoon light comes across the floor beside it, and I can see Tova there with paper spread out around her before I have given myself permission to.
“Astrid.”
“Coffee.”
“That much I got.”
He pours it black and puts it in front of me without asking me a single question about anything, and I am more pleased about that than I intend to be.
He opens the refrigerator for his own. The containers inside are stacked by size with the lids dated in blue marker.
“Ruth.”
He glances back at me. “You remembered.”
“She labels the vegetables.”
