Chapter 7 - The Empty Apartment
Oak Hollow Apartments sat six minutes from the house.
That detail hurt Michael more than if Sarah had chosen another city.
She had not been planning an escape.
She had been planning proximity.
The leasing agent unlocked a second-floor unit.
Two bedrooms.
Small kitchen.
Balcony overlooking a retention pond.
Sarah walked in first.
Michael stayed near the door.
The leasing agent said:
“You have until five if you want to convert the hold to a lease. If not, we release it Monday. Deposit refund is partial.”
“How partial?” Michael asked.
Sarah looked at him.
“About nine hundred comes back.”
Michael said nothing.
The agent left them alone.
Sarah walked into the smaller bedroom.
Michael followed only to the doorway.
“You picked two bedrooms.”
“I have two kids.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“I wasn’t going to disappear.”
“I know.”
She turned.
“Do you?”
“I’m trying.”
Sarah looked out the window.
Michael stood in the hallway.
The apartment smelled like fresh paint and carpet.
Nothing personal.
Still, he could already see Ethan’s backpack on one floor and Noah’s socks everywhere.
He hated himself for imagining it.
Sarah said:
“When I found the Northline reminder, I thought about asking you that night.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You came home talking about Brookfield paying Friday.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“You sounded so sure.”
“I was.”
“That scared me more.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I knew you had debt you hadn’t told me about, and you were standing in our kitchen making plans around money you didn’t have yet.”
Michael leaned against the doorframe.
“So you put money down here.”
“Yes.”
“Did that make you feel better?”
Sarah thought.
“For about twenty minutes.”
He almost smiled.
She didn’t.
Then:
“I sat in my car and cried because I didn’t want an apartment.”
Michael looked at the carpet.
“I wanted you to be somebody I could ask about a loan without wondering whether I’d get the whole truth.”
He nodded.
She continued.
“I wanted the rent account to be boring.”
That one hit.
Their money had become a source of suspense.
What drafted.
What had been borrowed.
What had not been told.
Michael asked:
“Do you want to sign?”
Sarah looked around.
“I don’t know.”
He accepted it.
She noticed.
“You’re not going to tell me it wastes nine hundred if I don’t?”
“I thought it.”
“I know.”
Michael walked toward the living room.
He saw a small dining nook.
Two chairs would fit easily.
Four if somebody bumped knees.
Sarah joined him.
He said:
“I can take a salaried job.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“Weston Builders offered me a superintendent position in spring.”
“You never told me.”
“I said no.”
“Why?”
“Because I own a company.”
Her face tightened.
He corrected himself.
“I wanted to own a company.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
“Offer still there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you take it?”
Michael looked out at the parking lot.
“I would’ve said no yesterday.”
“And today?”
“I’m standing inside the apartment my wife rented because she thinks my business can reach into the rent account.”
Sarah’s face changed.
He continued.
“So maybe I don’t get to answer based only on pride anymore.”
She looked away.
The leasing agent called from the hall.
“Ten minutes before I have to head downstairs.”
Sarah nodded.
Michael stepped toward the door.
“I’ll wait outside.”
She frowned.
“You don’t want to know?”
“I do.”
“Then why leave?”
“Because if I stand here, you’ll read my face.”
She stared.
He was probably right.
Michael went to the hallway.
Closed the door gently behind him.
He sat on a bench near the stairwell.
Nine minutes later, Sarah came out.
No papers in her hand.
Michael stood.
“Did you sign?”
“No.”
Relief hit his face before he could stop it.
Sarah saw.
He hated himself for that.
She said:
“I didn’t cancel either.”
The relief disappeared.
“I asked for forty-eight more hours.”
Michael nodded slowly.
Saturday afternoon.
Sarah handed the keys back to the agent.
Then turned toward him.
“I’m not keeping this option because I want to punish you.”
“I know.”
“I’m keeping it because two good days don’t erase eight months.”
Michael looked toward the closed apartment door.
“I know.”
This time she believed he meant it.
May you like
Not enough to go home feeling safe.
Enough to walk to the parking lot beside him.
