“Hello?”
“Hey, Corinne?”
“Enoch?”
“Yeah.”
It had been a week since their walk. She’d thought maybe he was done calling her. Done with this … game. Or whatever it was. This experiment. It was against the rules. And Enoch Miller apparently cared less about the rules than he used to—but he was still Enoch Miller. He was still the kind of person who kept a Bible on his dashboard, Corinne had seen it.
He might step off the path for Corinne—he’d pull her off of it, pull her to the top of a tornado slide—but he’d always go back.
She’d known that when she was eighteen, and she’d gone along with him anyway. She’d taken what she could get.
She was thirty-one now. She was still taking his calls. She was still saying yes. But she also still knew where this was headed, she knew who she was dealing with.
“Hi, Enoch.”
“Hi. Hey, I was going to wait until there was a concert you might want to see. To call you. But your choices are Toby Keith and Big & Rich. At least for the next few weeks.”
Corinne laughed.
“Do you think we could go for another walk?”
“Yeah,” she said. “No offense to Big & Rich.”
“None taken, I’m sure. Have you been to the creek trail, up north?”
“No.”
“It’s good.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
“Do you want to meet me there? Tomorrow, around three?”
Tomorrow was Tuesday, Corinne had a meeting, she’d move it. “Yeah. See you then.”
Corinne got to the trail early. Enoch was already there. It was a Tuesday afternoon, but he’d changed out of his work clothes into jeans and the sort of big gray sweater a fisherman might wear. All of Enoch’s clothes looked like they were made for someone to work in.
Corinne had tried to look pretty today. Who knew whether she’d succeeded. Or whether Enoch would notice. Or whether he was susceptible to that sort of thing. But she was wearing rose-colored lipstick.
“I like your sweater,” she said.
He looked down. “Thanks. I didn’t pick it out.”
“Have you ever purchased clothing for yourself?”
He smiled at her. “Do work clothes count? I’ve bought pants at Menards.”
She laughed. Menards was a big-box hardware store.
“Eventually I’ll run through the clothes that Shannon bought me,” he went on, “and I’ll have to go to the Gap or something. Is that where people shop?”
“You should just buy all your clothes from Menards.”
“That’s fine with me. They have these coveralls with a million pockets … Bright orange.”
He’d started walking, following the path into the trees, and Corinne was walking beside him. The path was narrow. (Just like the path to heaven, Corinne thought.) Their arms kept bumping. Enoch smelled like aftershave. Corinne was better able to bear it this time. To bear the sense memories. Of Enoch, coming into the living room, holding a piece of pizza and the Bible. Of waiting for the moment when she could slide behind the coffee table next to him. She’d never gotten to smell his aftershave when it was this fresh from the bottle. He’d never put it on for her.
It was sunnier today, a bit warmer. Corinne hadn’t worn a jacket. Just a big, purple sweater with dolman sleeves. And bootcut jeans.
“Do you remember that black sweater you used to wear?” Enoch was smiling down at her.
“Yes.”
“You loved that sweater…”
“I mean, I only had two sweaters—but I did love it.”
“It was coming apart at every seam. It drove my mom crazy.”
“Your mom bought me a pink twinset. When we were staying with you guys…”
“That sounds like her.”
“… but it was too tight across the front, and my mom wouldn’t let me wear it. I had to give it to Holly.”
He huffed a laugh through his nose. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“Title of my memoir.”
Enoch laughed out loud, a rare treat. Corinne smiled up at him. He looked handsome in that sweater. Shannon Frank always did have good taste.
“Do you miss being married?” Corinne asked. Before she could think better of it.
Enoch raised his eyebrows. “That’s a … question.”
“You don’t have to answer it,” she rushed out.
“No, that’s all right. I may as well. Now that I’m, what’d you call it … forthright?”
“Forthcoming.”
“There you go.” He looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I miss it. That’s pathetic, huh? That I miss being married to someone who didn’t … Well.”
“I don’t think it’s pathetic,” Corinne said. They were both concentrating on the trail. It made talking a little easier. Even talking about this.
“I always got along with Shannon,” he said.
“Yeah,” Corinne said. She remembered.
“I know you didn’t like her.”
“Oh, I was just jealous.”
Enoch glanced over at her, surprised.
“Well, I was,” Corinne said. “She had everything. She was perfect. Do you remember those hats she used to wear, with the silk flowers and the ribbons?”
Enoch didn’t answer. Corinne guessed that he probably did remember. Instead he said, “You never would have worn a hat like that.”
“What would I have worn it with? My holey black sweater? That floor-length gray skirt that Sister Walters made for me? She made me all those drab skirts with elastic waists—I dressed like an angry nun.”
Enoch laughed again. His silent, shaky Enoch laugh. “Shannon and I got along,” he repeated. “I think that’s why we stayed married as long as we did. She wasn’t happy, but what we had was pretty easy. For both of us.”
“Were you happy?”
“I thought I was. If you’d asked me then, I would have said yes.”
“But now?”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
Corinne let him keep thinking. She’d never been to this park. It felt removed from town. The path kept forking. They’d already taken so many turns, she wasn’t sure of the way back.
“Shannon says I’m too good at making the best of things,” Enoch said. “She said I never really expected to be happy.”
“Well, that just seems practical,” Corinne said.
“Yeah,” he laughed, “maybe.” He glanced down at her, then back at the trail. “Did you ever want to get married?”
She waved her hand and made a dismissive noise that could have meant yes or no or don’t be silly.
“No one would describe you as forthcoming, Corinne.”
“Oh, I’m sure there was plenty of gossip about how forthcoming I was with you.”
“Geez.” He shook his head. “The things you say sometimes.”
“Sorry.”
“I didn’t mean that you should stop. I just mean…” He frowned at her. “You don’t seem to want to talk about … what happened. With us. But then you sort of throw it in my face.”
That was exactly what Corinne was doing. It was all that she could really manage. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Genuinely.”
“It’s all right. I’m glad to hear what you’re thinking…”
They’d come to a creek, and the path had transitioned into a raised boardwalk. Their feet sounded like drums beneath them. Corinne’s heart was beating fast in her chest. “It’s different for me,” she said. Certainly. “It’s different in the world. Marriage is.”
“You’ve never considered it?”
“No, I have. I was engaged for a while.”
“You were?” Enoch looked hurt. Which was so unfair, Corinne wanted to slap him.
“My mom didn’t tell you?”
“She wouldn’t—”
“I’m kidding,” she said. “My mom doesn’t know. It was before … Before.”
“What happened?” he asked. “I mean, did something happen—you’re not still…”
“Engaged? No. We just…”
Corinne almost said that they’d drifted apart. But that wasn’t true at all. It had been bloody and terrible. She and Marc kept getting back together, then breaking up for the same reasons: He was a liar. And a narcissist. And probably an alcoholic.
She shook her head. Her ponytail swung. “I don’t really want to talk about this, Enoch, I’m sorry. You were right—I’m not forthcoming. I’m forthgoing, is that a thing? Forthwrong?”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it.”
“I know I don’t. And also, thank you.”
They kept walking. Drumming. The path turned into dirt again.
“Did you live together?” he asked.
“Um … yeah. We did.” She was frowning. “But I really don’t—”
“I miss having breakfast,” Enoch said. Forthrightly. “With someone else. On the weekends.”
Corinne sighed. She was the one who’d started this. “Did Shannon make breakfast?”
“We both did.”
They’d come to an incline—railroad ties set into the dirt like a staircase. Enoch’s breathing picked up. Even his breath had a low hum to it.
When they got to the top, Corinne stopped for a second to get her bearings. Enoch stopped with her.
“I miss some general things,” she said, looking up at him. He was looking down at her. His glasses were smudged. “Like breakfast,” she said. “But not breakfast. You know—the companionship. And then I miss specific things. About him. And those are harder to talk about.”
Enoch nodded.
“But it was a long time ago. Years ago.”
There was a crease between his eyebrows. “Are you seeing someone now, Corinne?”
Jesus, Enoch—am I?
“I told you,” she said, “I never leave my apartment.”
They followed the trail as it looped around itself. Along one stretch, the hedge apple trees arched over their heads like a tunnel. They stopped talking as they walked beneath them. The leaves were yellow-green turning greenish yellow. Enoch had to duck.
They got to a postcard-ready fishing pond and decided to take a break, sitting down on a low stone bench by the water. Enoch grunted a little when he settled.
“How’s your back?” Corinne asked.
“My back is garbage,” he said.
She laughed gently. “I’m sorry to hear that. You should have been born with two spines. For extra support.”
“Are you calling me fat?”
“God, no. I’m calling you … a sequoia.”
He laughed and shook his head.
The walk back was faster. And easier. Every minute with Enoch was easier. More natural. Corinne had to remind herself how absurd this was. That she was here with him at all.
At the end of the trail, she slid on a loose patch of gravel. Enoch caught her elbow, but he let go as soon as she’d regained her balance. When they got to their cars—to her car and his truck—neither of them seemed to know what to do. They stood there awkwardly for a minute. The sun was just starting to dip. “Are you hungry?” Corinne asked.
Enoch checked his watch. “I should probably get home…”
She nodded. “Big Tuesday-night plans?”
“Just the usual.”
“Oh”—she looked up at him—“duh. You have church tonight.”
“Yeah, you want to come with?”
“Is that a joke?”
He shook his head, like he was shaking sense into himself. “Yeah … probably. Unless?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Right. Sorry.”
They kept standing there. Awkwardly. Absurdly.
“I’ll be hungry tomorrow,” Enoch said. “We could have lunch. If you want.”
“Okay,” Corinne said. “I’ll probably be hungry, too.”