Chapter 21: Moving In

The apartment was the top floor of a greystone in Lincoln Park, two bedrooms, with a front room full of morning.

The rental agent stood in the doorway with a clipboard and a careful face.

"It's available on the first," she said. "The owner wants a year."

"Which bedroom has the north window?" I asked.

"The back one. It's small."

"Show me."

It was small.

It was exactly nine feet by eleven, with a window on the north wall and gray light coming through it.

I stood in the middle and felt something in my chest go quiet.

"A studio," Margot said from the door.

"If anyone wanted one."

"I'd put the table here." She pointed. "Under the window. So your left hand is in the light."

"You've thought about it."

"I've thought about it since Tuesday."

"I told you to ask."

"I'm asking," she said. "Do you want this place?"

I looked at the room.

I looked at the closet wall, which carried nothing at all and had a sliding door painted over twice.

"It's a closet," I said.

Margot put her hand over her mouth.

"Don't," she said. "The agent's right there."

"What's funny?" the agent asked.

"Nothing," we said together.

In the front room the agent slid a lease onto the kitchen counter, with a pen on top.

"Sign here, here, and here," she said, and held the pen out.

She held it to me.

I looked at the paper for a long moment.

TENANT: and a blank line.

I wrote Nathan Boyle on it.

"Is there a second name on this?" Margot asked the agent.

"The owner prefers one name for a first lease," the agent said. "Whichever of you wants it."

"Mine," I said.

"Naturally," Margot said, and I felt her look at me.

"I'm not trying to keep you out."

"I know."

"It's the first piece of paper in five years that's got my name on it and nobody else's. I want to see how it feels."

"And?"

"Fine," I said. "It feels fine."

The agent took the lease and left us alone with a key.

The door closed behind her.

The apartment was empty except for the light.

Margot walked slowly through the front room with her coat open.

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