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Even though it was a battle he was going to lose, Karl continued to ignore Malcolm in hopes he would give up and leave the room. In response, Malcolm sat down and started spinning in one of the chairs. The heavy chair creaked as it turned and rocked under Malcolm’s weight. Karl didn’t have to occupy his hands to keep his thoughts away from Vivian; the screeching chair meant he couldn’t think at all.
“Would you stop that?”
“Stop what?” Malcolm rocked back and forth, the chair squeaking in time with his movements. As Malcolm was looking for a reaction, rather than an answer, Karl didn’t give him either.
For several minutes the only sounds in the room were Karl clicking the mouse and Malcolm squeaking the chair. Then the squeaking finally came to a halt. “I’ll stop if you tell me why you’re not living with your wife yet.”
Finally. Karl’s determination to wait out his friend was successful. Only Malcolm hadn’t given in by leaving, but by further pursuing his question.
“You’re the one who told me why she got fired from her job.” Karl spoke to the laptop, even though he was no longer seeing the words on the screen well enough to process them.
Malcolm’s shoes clumped on the wood floor. “Since she’s living with your mother and working at Healthy Food, I assume she’s actually innocent of any crime.”
Innocence wasn’t the question. Whether or not he cared about her near crime was. And, if he didn’t care about her near crime, what other near crimes wouldn’t he be able to care about? And would he be able to rationalize away the small crimes, the ones that seem insignificant, but were just part of a larger problem? Karl’s back started to ache and he leaned back in his chair, rubbing the crick like an old man.
“And—” Malcolm wasn’t done “—you’ve been even more silent than usual around the office, so I know something’s on your mind. Being the experienced investigator that I am, I can only conclude that you’re thinking of how your pretty and pregnant wife is living with your mother instead of with you.”
“She’s helping my mother out at Healthy Food.”
She was still in Chicago, but she didn’t need him any longer. Not that Karl wanted her to be dependent on him. No. He preferred the Vivian with a sense of independence over the Vivian who had been trapped in his apartment. But he didn’t have anything to offer her, and she expected something before she would move back in.
Her refusal was more frustrating because her “no” wasn’t an “absolutely not.” Instead, it was a “not until you give me what I want.” He didn’t think he could give her what she wanted. And she wouldn’t take what he could give.
“And she can’t help at the restaurant while living in your apartment?”
Karl finally looked over to see Malcolm had rested his arms on his legs and was bent over in his seat, his eyebrows raised in concern. Or maybe curiosity. Either way, the man didn’t need to know Karl’s business. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Explain it to me.”
“We’re at work.”
“You’re the boss and it’s nearly quitting time for normal people. Let’s go to a bar and you can explain it to me over a beer.”
Sharing his problems with a coworker, even a coworker he respected and nearly considered a friend, was almost as scary as Vivian and his soon-to-be child.
Something in his face must have given his thoughts away because Malcolm’s expression turned sympathetic. The man’s expression was near enough to pity that Karl bent over the laptop again and waited for Malcolm to go away.
“Do you have friends?”
“Of course I have friends.”
“I don’t mean the people you shake hands with when you see them at the opera, I mean someone you relax and share your problems with. Or maybe someone you just get a beer and watch basketball with.”
Vivian. He relaxed and shared his problems with her. She’d probably watch basketball if he were interested. “I’m a hockey fan.”
“So the answer is no. You smile and shake hands with everyone in Chicago, from the guy selling Streetwise on the corner, to visiting senators, and then you go home to your silent apartment and—what? Watch hockey?”
