“Corinne? It’s Mercy.”
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Mercy said. “I was just wondering, are you going to your mom’s house for lunch today?”
“I am.”
“Do you think you could pick Ruth and me up at church? Noah has to stay late, and Shawn and Alicia are out of town, and—”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll come get you.”
“Thanks, Corinne. Have you been here before?”
“I know where it is.”
“We get out at noon. Maybe come a few minutes early? That way, we can skip the rush.”
“Sure.”
This wasn’t the specific church Corinne had grown up in, but it had a similar look. A wide, squat building, painted tan to fit into the neighborhood. There was a teenage boy outside with a walkie-talkie, keeping an eye on the parking lot. Maybe he’d think Corinne was up to no good and call for help. (Corinne was the sort of no good they couldn’t help.)
She pulled up to the side of the front door, so Mercy would see her.
Enoch might see her, too. His truck was here. He was inside.
Mercy came out with Ruth a few minutes before noon, and Corinne got out to help her with the car seat. Mercy said it would be easy to belt in, but Corinne’s car wasn’t really set up for it. Corinne held Ruth while Mercy wrestled with the thing.
Mercy couldn’t stop thanking Corinne for picking them up. She was hoping to take a nap when they got to Corinne’s mom’s house, “if I can find somebody to hold the baby.”
“I’ll hold the baby,” Corinne said, looking at Ruth. “We’re old pals, aren’t we, honey?”
That’s when Enoch came skipping down the church steps. His head was down. He was wearing his gray suit. His hair was getting longer; Corinne kept talking him out of haircuts. It covered the top of his ears and brushed his collar.
He saw Corinne, he always saw her. He stopped on the steps. His face lit up. Corinne was holding the baby. She was wearing a flowered dress.
He moved toward her, then stopped.
Mercy was leaning into the back seat of the car.
Corinne nodded at Enoch.
Enoch nodded back.
He turned his head away from her—like someone was turning it for him—and went jerkily down the last few steps.
“There.” Mercy stood up. She caught Corinne watching Enoch. Corinne smiled tightly and handed her the baby.
When they both got into her front seat, Enoch’s truck was leaving the parking lot. “It’s so sad,” Mercy said. “He never misses a service. Why would he cast himself out like that if he wants to be here? Noah thinks he might be gay, like his wife. Or worse.”
“Worse?” Corinne couldn’t mask her dismay.
“Why else would he cut himself off from the congregation if he wasn’t walking with some dark sin?”
“Maybe he’s just confused,” Corinne said.
“You don’t cut off your hand because it’s confused,” Mercy said. “You cut it off because it’s sinful.”
“No one needs to cut off any hands,” Corinne said. “Or feet.”
“It’s a metaphor.”
“I know.”
“It’s from Matthew.”
“I know.”
Mercy’s voice was soft, supplicating. “I’m sorry, Corinne, I know you were friends, but maybe—”
“Maybe what?”
“Well, maybe it’s good for you to see … that Enoch Miller is sick with sin. Maybe it wasn’t ever about you, you know?”
“Mercy…” Corinne was staring at her steering wheel.
“I don’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
Corinne turned to her. “Mercy, Enoch Miller is a good man. He’s God-fearing, I know it. Anyone who says any different is wrong.”
Mercy looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, Corinne. I shouldn’t—”
“He didn’t stumble me. I stumbled myself.”
Mercy nodded and looked away. She didn’t want to hear that. That it was Corinne who had been wicked and immoral all along. Not with her baby strapped into the back seat of Corinne’s car.
They drove in silence. Corinne turned on the radio, to make it less stark, but Mercy looked panicked, and Corinne quickly turned it off.
Corinne couldn’t stop worrying about Enoch the whole time she was at her mom’s house. No one noticed she was checked out. She smiled and listened to their stories. She played Candy Land with her nephews and one of her stepsister’s kids.
Then she left early, with a covered plate of ham and macaroni and cheese for supper. For Enoch. She walked into his kitchen, calling his name.
“I’m in here.” He was in the living room, playing video games. He was still wearing his dress clothes. His suit jacket was on the coffee table.
“Hey,” she said.
He glanced up at her. His eyes were glassy. “Hey.”
“Did you have lunch?”
“No.”
“I brought you some ham.”
“Okay.” He kept playing.
Corinne set the plate down on the table. She picked up his jacket. After a second, she took it into the bedroom to hang it up. When she turned away from his closet, Enoch was standing in the doorway to his room, taking up the whole thing.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He held a hand out to her.
Corinne went to him. Into his arms.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi. Are you okay?”
“I’m a little off my game.”
“I’m sorry I surprised you,” she said. “After church.”
“Don’t be. It was nice to see you.”
“It didn’t seem nice.”
“It was like…” He hugged her. “Remember when you were a kid, and you’d see your teacher at the grocery store?”
Corinne nodded.
“It was a little discombobulating.”
“You should eat,” Corinne said. “You should…” She loosened his tie.
“Yeah,” Enoch said, taking off the tie. He walked past her into his room, unbuttoning his shirt. “How’s your family?”
“Good. The same. Shawn and Alicia went to Chicago for their anniversary.”
“That’s nice.” He was standing in front of his dresser. His shirt was still half buttoned.
Corinne went to him. “Let me help you.” She reached for his buttons.
He caught her hands. “I’ve got it. I can undress myself.”
“Enoch. What’s wrong?”
“Sorry—I told you, I’m off my game.”
“This is about seeing me. At church.”
“It’s about feeling lost, Corinne.” He sighed. He let go of her hands. He leaned past her to get clothes out of the drawer. “When you’re not here—when you’re with your family—I’m not with anyone. I start to feel lost. I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t.”
Corinne let him move away from her to change.
“I thought you were happy,” she said.
He glanced back at her. “Come on, that’s not fair. I am happy.”
She frowned.
“Just usually not on Sunday afternoons,” he said.
“Do you want me to stay home with you?”
“No! Jiminy Christmas. I don’t want that.” He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands. After a second, Corinne sat down next to him. “I want to go with you,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“The Sundays stack up. I start to think about my nieces and nephews, birthdays, Christmas…”
“I thought you said we weren’t there yet,” she whispered. “At the hard place.”
“We’re not,” he said. “I’m just … I’m off my game, I’m sorry. I don’t want this to hurt us. The fact that I’m having an off day.”
“Do you want me to go home?”
“No. Please don’t. I never want that.”
Corinne leaned against his side.
His face sank into her hair. “I’m sorry I’m so dependent on you. It isn’t sustainable.”
“What does that mean?” she asked. “Practically speaking. That it isn’t sustainable?”
“I don’t know, I’ll make some worldly friends. I’ll join a book club.”
Corinne winced. “Your life was so full before me…”
“That’s patently untrue. I spent every night alone.”
“You worked with friends and went to church three days a week.”
He sat up straight. “We’re not having this conversation again.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not real! I don’t want my old life back, and also I can’t have it back.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Corinne. Please. Just let me have a hard day.”
“If you’re having a hard day, we’re already at the hard place.”
“We were always at the hard place!” he snapped.
Corinne stood up.
“Corinne.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I’m just giving you a minute. I’m taking a minute.”
He nodded.
Corinne walked out into the hall. There was a closet there. She opened it. Sheets. Towels. A bag of dog food. (Why did he have dog food?)
There was another closet by the front door. With Enoch’s coats and boots. Umbrellas.
Maybe in the guest bedroom …
Corinne had only walked past this room before. She went in now and opened the closet.
Jackpot.
“What are you doing?” Enoch had come in behind her. He was standing on the other side of the spare bed.
“Waiting for you,” she said. “I can’t reach Hūsker Dū.”
Enoch was sitting on the couch. Corinne knelt on the other side of the coffee table, laying out the Monopoly board. The same old board. (When she went looking for some sort of game, she hadn’t expected to find their whole trove.)
“I can’t believe you threw out Simon,” she said.
“Japheth threw it out—he assumed it was broken.”
“That’s very convenient, Enoch Miller.”
“He was about to take the rest of these to the Goodwill.”
She looked up at Enoch over the game board. She imagined him carrying boxes of old and unwanted things out of his mother’s house—Matchbox cars, Reader’s Digests, a stationary bicycle—but setting this stack of games aside. Cleaning out his closet to make room for them.
Corinne laid out Candy Land. Then Clue.
Enoch watched her. “Is this a good idea?”
She glanced up at him. “As good as ever.”
Enoch picked up the Monopoly box. He took out the top hat and the horse and rider. “What are the rules?” he asked gruffly.
“If Simon is out, so is Operation.”
“I’m very good at Operation.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Corinne was arranging the weapons for Clue. All the pieces were still here; it was very satisfying. Enoch grabbed her hand. She looked up at him. His eyes were shining. His nostrils were twitching.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” she said. “I always have.”
“Come sit next to me, Corinne.”