He had not wanted to admit he was right then.
Now he did.
His phone buzzed when he reached Mary’s street. Marcus had replied: I’m here. No lecture. Tell me when you’re ready.
Naomi parked, turned off the engine, and sat looking at the message. She had gone to the gym believing that the hardest part would be teaching a young man a lesson. The hardest part was beginning now, with the task of admitting what she had chosen.
Chapter 23: The Child on the Sofa
Mary opened the door before Naomi knocked a second time. She wore a cardigan over her nightdress and held a mug of tea. The television in her living room displayed the final credits of a movie about a dog that sang through a series of improbable adventures.
“She’s asleep,” Mary said. “On the sofa. She insisted she wasn’t tired five minutes before she fell over.”
Naomi smiled faintly and stepped inside. Khloe was curled beneath a knitted blanket, Captain Buttons tucked under her chin. A small bowl of popcorn sat on the side table. One of her socks had migrated onto the floor.
“How was the hardware store?” Mary asked.
She looked at her. “I wasn’t at the hardware store.”
“I know.”
She expected a question about the gym. She asked instead, “Are you hurt?”
“No serious injuries.”
“Was anyone else?”
“Trent’s being checked. He was conscious when I left.”
Mary set down her mug. The warmth in her face became a kind of steady concern. “Naomi, what happened?”
She told her enough to be honest without turning the exchange into a story meant to impress. She described the sparring, the rapid ending, and the moment when she failed to stop immediately. She did not hide behind the waiver or Trent’s provocations.
Mary listened, hands folded in her lap.
“You frightened him,” Mary said when Naomi finished.
“Yes.”
“Did you mean to?”
Naomi looked toward the sleeping child. “At the very end, I think I did.”
She nodded slowly. “Then you have something to fix, too.”
There was no accusation in her voice. She felt grateful for it and ashamed that she needed it.
“I know.”
Mary walked to the kitchen and returned with a clean dish towel. “You’re trembling. Sit down until your hands settle.”
She had not noticed how badly her right hand was shaking. She sat at her dining table while she poured her water. Neither spoke for several minutes. She could hear the clock above the stove, the faint whistle of the heating vent, the small sleepy sounds coming from the sofa.
“I was going to tell her I bought drywall supplies,” she admitted.
“Did you?”
“I bought them this afternoon.”
Mary raised an eyebrow. “Very thorough.”
It was the gentlest possible rebuke. Naomi nearly laughed.
At last she lifted Khloe from the sofa. She stirred, her arms going around her neck. The familiar weight of her body brought her back to a world in which there were no mats, no crowds, and no one to defeat.
“Did you get the mud?” she murmured against her shoulder.
“The drywall compound? Yes.”
The answer was technically true and emotionally dishonest. She knew it. Mary knew it. Khloe fell asleep before she could ask anything more.
At home, she carried her upstairs and set Captain Buttons beside the pillow. She left the hall light on a moment longer than usual. Then she sat at the kitchen table and wrote a factual account of the gym incident while it remained clear in her mind. She recorded what she could recall, including the part she most wanted to leave out.
When Marcus called, Naomi told him the same story. Marcus did not flatter her or condemn her.
“Make sure the kid gets checked,” Marcus said. “Make sure your daughter is safe. And tomorrow, figure out how to get out of this without asking violence to finish the work for you.”
Naomi looked at Daniel’s empty chair.
“I’m trying,” she said.
“Then keep trying. That’s how ordinary life works.”
Chapter 24: Richard Harrington at the Door
Richard arrived at seven-fifteen Saturday morning, just as Naomi was scraping a piece of burnt toast. The knock was loud enough that Khloe called from upstairs to ask whether the house was having a problem.
“No problem,” Naomi answered. “Finish getting dressed.”
She opened the door to find Richard standing on the porch in an expensive sweater, his face drawn tight with anger and sleeplessness.
“You attacked my son,” Richard said before Naomi could greet her.
Naomi stepped outside and pulled the door almost closed behind her. “Trent invited me to spar at the gym. We both agreed to participate. He was checked last night.”
