Pam’s kids asked where Uncle Rick was at the next cookout. Pam said he had a couch of his own now. The kids accepted couches. Children accepted geography before they accepted threads. Lisa was grateful for the acceptance and angry that it was required. She turned the hot dogs. Turning hot dogs was a job. Jobs kept hands busy when the family room tried to replay. The replay came at night anyway. She let it. Morning was hot dogs or work or Cole’s form for a trip. Forms she could finish.
Joan filed what needed filing. Lisa signed where the tabs said. Rick signed at his own table and sent the pages back on time. On time, again. Lisa noticed and did not send a thank-you. Thank-you was a door. The porch was enough. Cole asked if signing meant divorced. Lisa said not yet. Not yet was honest. He could hold honest. He had held one time and then the correction. His capacity was larger than the kitchen Rick had tried to send him to. Lisa said so to Pam. Pam said then keep feeding the capacity. Lisa made pasta. Capacity, it turned out, liked sauce.
The work friend who said you should date stopped saying it after Lisa described a lock screen in one sentence and then changed the subject to a spreadsheet. Spreadsheets were the new wings. Neutral. Shared. Nobody’s bedroom wall. Lisa got better at the spreadsheet. Her boss noticed. Notice was not a cheer from a crowd. It was a note in a review. She took the note home and did not put it on the fridge. The fridge had Cole’s schedule. The schedule was the document that mattered. Saturdays in one color. Sundays blank of Rick. Blank was a kindness she had built.
Derek slept over and they played the video game with the sound low out of habit even though Lisa said the sound could be up. Habit was stronger. She heard the low and felt the year. She did not ask them to perform normal. Normal was a commercial. They could be quiet. Quiet was allowed. In the morning Derek ate cereal and did not ask where the other jersey was. Cole did not explain the banister. Some stories stayed in the family room. Lisa drove Derek home and said thanks for being easy. Derek said Cole’s house was easy. She almost laughed. Easy was a new word for a place that had been a snap. She let the word in. It did not erase the phone. It sat beside it, smaller, useful.