“Mark, honestly, what are you doing here? I have things to do.”
“It’s tenp.m. What do you have to do? That’s why I asked about this project.” He jutted an elbow toward the box.
Sybil huffed. “I never sleep. Okay? I never sleep so I have things that keep me busy at night.” She didn’t know why she was telling him this, not when she really hadn’t told anyone other than the Insomniacs, which was now down to Zeke. So now down to no one.
“You never sleep? Is this…Did it just start? Am I responsible?” His shoulders sagged. “Shit. Fuck.”
“You are not responsible, Mark.”
“Okay but—”
“But you’re right about the other stuff. Iambetter at most things, and Idohold that against you. Actually, no, I hold that against myself. I should have made different choices, and to be honest, you should have too.”
“I’ve already apologized for Vivian.”
Sybil waited for her insides to curdle at the sound of her name. They did not. They remained perfectly solid actually. The tentacles of ambivalence were too strong to shake.
“That wasn’t what I meant. Before that. Way before that.”
“So let me help. With that.” He pointed to the Bankers Box. “I’m off tomorrow, I have nowhere to be either.”
“It’smything.”
“I’m not trying to interfere,” he said. “Just offering to keep you company if you’re going to be up all night anyway. You’ve tried the usual things?”
He meant meds, meditation, white noise, blackout shades, acupuncture, all of it. He didn’t mean finding a group of strangers online, one dying under suspicious circumstances, one disappearing, and the other one, the one Sybil trusted the most, the one Sybil had brewing, complicated feelings for, now ignoring her.
“Mostly,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s not your problem.”
“Okay,” he said. “But don’t you sort of think that if we had made our problems each other’s problems, your lawyer wouldn’t have had to contact my lawyer this week?”
Sybil wasn’t expecting this from Mark, her milquetoast husband of two decades who suddenly sounded enlightened. It wasn’t that she had any interest in reconciling, but still, something about him felt like it had shifted.
“I don’t want to get back together,” she said.
He nodded just once. A patient accepting the diagnosis. “Before I leave, can I grab a snack? I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
She waved a hand since he knew the way to the pantry.
“What’s this?” he said from around the corner.
She found him staring at the postcards. “Oh, just…nothing.”
“I love this,” he said. “All the top tourist attractions across the country.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Well, yeah? Isn’t that what you intended?” He looked at her, befuddled. “Although actually, why are you tacking up photos of tourist attractions? Are you going like allThelma & Louise?”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“No, I understand why you would. I didn’t mean that misogynistically. Men are shit.”
“You’re extremely confusing to me right now,” she said.
“I know. Eloise got to me.”
“Our daughter convinced you that you’re a dick?”
