Marcus had heard that kind of crying before. He'd done it himself 3 years ago alone in a hospital hallway. He knew better than to touch her. He just stayed where he was on one knee, close enough that she'd know she wasn't alone. Can I close this door?" he asked gently.
"You're soaked and it's cold. I'll leave it open a crack if you want, but let me close it enough to keep the rain out." "Okay," she nodded. He stood closed the door most of the way and came back and crouched in front of her again. "There," he said. "Now I'm going to sit right here.
I'm not going anywhere. You take all the time you need. You don't even know me, Emily said. I know you live across the street. I know you drive a gray Honda.
I know one time last winter you helped an old man pick up his groceries in the parking lot at the Kroger because I saw you do it and I remember thinking that was a decent thing to do. Marcus shrugged. That's enough to sit on a floor with somebody. She almost smiled. It didn't quite make it to her mouth, but it made it to her eyes for half a second.
I'm sorry, she said. I don't I don't fall apart like this. This isn't me. Everybody falls apart, Emily. Everybody.
The only difference is whether somebody's around to see it. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. I didn't mean to scream. I saw him at the window and I just it came out of me before I could stop it. You don't have to apologize for screaming when a man you're afraid of is standing outside your house at midnight.
Marcus said it plainly. That's not falling apart. That's your body doing exactly what it's supposed to do. Emily looked at him for a long moment. Really?
Looked at him, the wet t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, the socks soaked through the rain still dripping off his jaw. You came out in the rain in your socks, she said. "Yeah, well." Marcus glanced down at his feet and let out a small tired laugh. I heard a person scream, wasn't thinking about my socks. For the first time, something in her shoulders came down half an inch.
Just half an inch. But he saw it. "There you go," he said softly. "Breathe. You're okay.
Nobody's getting through that door but me. And I'm right here." They sat like that for a while. Marcus didn't know how long. The rain kept coming down outside. Emily's breathing slowly steadied one shaking breath at a time until she was just a woman sitting on a floor instead of a woman drowning.
Finally, she spoke again, and her voice was smaller now, worn out. "I don't know what to do," she said. "You don't have to know tonight," Marcus said. "Tonight, you just have to get warm and get some sleep." "I can't sleep here. If he comes back, then you don't sleep here." She looked at him.
I've got a guest room, Marcus said. It's nothing fancy, but it's dry and it locks. And there's a grown man in the house who's not going anywhere. My daughter's asleep down the hall. She's eight.
Her name's Ava. She snores a little, but she's harmless. He almost smiled. You'd be safe. That's all I can promise you.
But I can promise you that. Emily stared at him like she didn't understand the offer. You'd let a stranger sleep in your house, she said. You're not a stranger. You're my neighbor and you're scared and it's midnight and I've got a spare bed.
Marcus stood and this time he held out his hand. My wife used to say the whole point of being decent is that you don't get to pick when it's convenient. I've been trying to live up to that so he kept his hand out. You coming? Emily looked at his hand.
Then she looked at her own front door and whatever was on the other side of it. Then she reached up and took his hand and Marcus pulled her to her feet. Grab whatever you need for the night, he said. Just the essentials. You can come back for the rest in the daylight when it's not raining and I can walk over with you.
I have a bag. She wiped her face again and pointed toward the stairs. I already I already packed a bag earlier when he first called. I was going to go to a hotel, but I couldn't I couldn't make myself drive. Then you already did the hardest part.
Marcus said, "Go get your bag." She went upstairs. Marcus stood in her hallway dripping on the floor and let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He thought about Ava asleep across the street. He thought about what a strange thing he was about to do. Bring a woman he barely knew into the house.
He'd kept lock tight around himself and his daughter for 3 years. He hadn't let anybody in. Not friends, not family, not the church ladies who'd brought casserles after the funeral. He'd closed the door on all of them one by one, and he'd told himself it was because he was strong. He knew standing in that hallway that it wasn't strength.
It had never been strength. Emily came back down with a small overnight bag over her shoulder. She'd wiped her face and pulled her wet hair back. She was trying, Marcus could see, to put herself back together. To be the composed woman she was in the daylight.
It wasn't quite working, but the effort itself told him something about her. She was a fighter. She just hadn't had anybody in her corner for a long time. "Ready?" he asked. "Ready?" He walked her across the street, one hand near her elbow, but not touching, watching the shadows the whole way.
There was nobody there. Ryan, whoever he was, was gone. Inside Marcus' house, Emily stopped in the front room and looked around like she'd walked into a museum. It was a small house, worn but clean. There were crayon drawings taped to the refrigerator.