"You called," he said. "Every week for the first 3 months, and then I stopped. Life got in the way. I let it. She said there's a difference.
He didn't argue with her because she was right and she knew she was right. And he'd never been someone who gave people false comfort just to make the air easier to breathe. Okay, he said. Okay, I hear you. I'm not holding it against you.
I never did. He looked at his coffee. What happened happened? You're here now. She was quiet for a long moment.
You're still doing that thing, she said. What thing? Giving people more grace than they asked for, making it easier than it should be. She shook her head. You let everyone off the hook so fast that nobody ever has to sit with what they did.
Maybe I just don't see the point in making people sit in guilt. There's a middle ground between guilt and complete absolution. Darius, okay, then I'm somewhere in the middle. Are you? He looked at her, really looked.
I was hurt that you weren't here, he said, plain and simple. Not angry, not resentful, just I missed having you around during that time. It was hard, and you were one of the people I would have wanted. He paused. That's the honest version.
Amelia looked at him with something that wasn't quite guilt and wasn't quite gratitude. Somewhere between both, deeper than either. Thank you, she said, for that. Don't thank me. It's just the truth.
She nodded slowly. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked out at the street. I want to do something today, she said. Somewhere neither of us has been before. New place, new memory.
He raised an eyebrow. Why? Because I've spent two days in places I remember. And memories are comfortable, but they're also they're not now. And I want to be in now.
She looked at him. Do you know what I mean? He thought about it. Yeah. So, somewhere new you pick.
I don't know a lot of new places. Then we'll find one. She stood and picked up her cup. Get Maya. Make it a day.
You want Maya to come? She's 10 and she has opinions about everything. She'll find us the best place in Atlanta just so she can be right about it. He stared at her. Then, despite himself, he laughed.
And that was how Saturday became an adventure into a part of the city. None of them had properly explored a food market down on the west side that one of Maya's classmates had mentioned, which turned out to be packed and loud and exactly the kind of place that demanded your full attention and gave you no room to be in your head. Maya navigated them to a booth selling Jamaicanstyle tacos, which turned out to be a combination of things that shouldn't have worked and completely did. Amelia found a vendor selling handpoured candles that smelled like black pepper and cedar and bought three without deliberating. Darius was roped into a free salsa tasting by an enthusiastic man named Raymond who would not accept just looking as a final answer.
He bought the salsa. Maya told him he was a pushover. He told her to eat her taco. They walked through the whole market twice, once to see everything once to go back for the things they'd talked themselves out of the first time. At some point, Amelia's shoulder was touching his as they walked.
He didn't say anything. She didn't adjust. Maya walked a few steps ahead of them, which might have been coincidence and was almost certainly not. At a small bench near the edge of the market, they sat and ate something that might have been a churro and might have been something better than a churro. And the afternoon light was long and golden, and Atlanta was doing that thing it did in late summer where it forgot to be brutal and just became beautiful instead.
This was a good idea, Darius said. Amelia looked pleased. I have them occasionally. First new place, he said. First new memory, she looked at him.
Yeah. Quietly. First one. Maya from his other side said nothing. Just ate her churo adjacent item with the calm satisfaction of someone whose plan was working exactly as intended.
He should have been wearrier of a 10-year-old operating with that much quiet satisfaction. He would learn. On Sunday, he didn't see Amelia. He told himself that was fine. One day without contact was normal.
They weren't on some kind of schedule. She had her mother her own readjustment, her own life to think about. He spent the day catching up on invoices. Took Maya to her soccer practice, fixed the gutter on his back porch that had been slightly loose since spring. He was fine.
At 7:15 in the evening, his phone rang. He answered it. "I have a situation," Amelia said. "What kind of situation? My mother has been reorganizing my opinions about my entire life from her chair in the living room for the past 3 hours, and I need to walk walk around the block, possibly several blocks.
I just need to move. A pause. Come with me. He was out the door in four minutes. They walked.
No destination, no purpose, just movement and the early evening air and the neighborhood getting quiet around them. What is she reorganizing? He asked. Everything. Amelia said.
My apartment in Chicago. Too cold, too corporate. My job. But are you happy? My social life.
You need people around you, baby. And then the capstone. You should have come home sooner. She's not wrong about any of that. Amelia stopped walking and looked at him.
Wow. She said, "Wow, you are supposed to be on my side. I'm on the side of accuracy. " Darius, what? She's right. You said so yourself yesterday.
That is completely different from you agreeing with her out loud. He raised his hands. Okay, I take it back. Barbara is entirely wrong about everything. Thank you.
Your apartment was probably warm and personal. It was actually pretty cold and corporate, she admitted. And your social life was full and rich. I worked most weekends. And you were definitely happy.
She made a sound that was almost a laugh, but had something harder in the middle of it. Define happy. He looked at her as they walked. What does it look like to you? She thought about it.
She was quiet for almost a full block and he let the silence run because he knew her well enough to know she was actually working on an honest answer, not stalling. Like when we were at that market yesterday, she said finally. That specific hour and a half. I wasn't thinking about my next goal. I wasn't planning.
I wasn't evaluating. I was just there. She paused. I haven't felt that in a long time. He said nothing.
"That's a problem, isn't it? " she said. "If the last time I felt genuinely present was a Saturday afternoon at a food market with my neighbor and his daughter. " "I wouldn't call it a problem. " "What would you call it? " he thought. "A starting point. " She turned to look at him as they walked her face open and searching. "You're surprisingly good at this," she said. "At what? " "Sing the right thing without making it a big deal. " I'm not doing anything.
See, that's exactly what I mean. She shook her head. You do it and you don't even notice you're doing it. He was quiet for a moment. A car passed them and the street lights were starting to turn on one by one down the block.
The they always did at this hour in this neighborhood in the same order, same timing, like they were keeping their own kind of rhythm. Can I ask you something? He said, "You can always ask why didn't you come back before this? " "Not for a visit. I mean, why didn't you when things started feeling empty? Why'd you stay? " Amelia was quiet for a moment.