They got back to the building at 9:40.
Petricia held the front door open and then stopped in the lobby. She turned to face him with the unsure energy of someone who was trying to figure out how to end the night that had gone differently than expected.
"That was..." she began, and then it seemed like she was looking for the right word.
"Nice," she said. "Really nice."
Mike said, "It was."
"I'd forgotten what it was like to just go out," she said, and there was something real and a little open about that.
Mike said, "You should do it more often."
"Maybe," she said. That was her way of saying yes while keeping one hand on the door, which he understood perfectly.
"Thank you for the recommendation," he said. "It really is a good restaurant and... a good company."
She looked at him in a way that was different from the judging looks she had been giving him all week. This one was more straightforward; it was less like a landlady figuring out a tenant and more like a person trying to figure out another person.
"Good night, Mike," she said.
"Good night, Petricia."
She went toward the management side of the building. He went upstairs.
He was in his apartment for maybe ten minutes before the system lit up his phone screen with a full update.
[EVENING SUMMARY:]
[DESIRE LEVEL: 29/100 — UP FROM 11/100 AT START OF DAY.]
[INCREASE OF 18 POINTS IN ONE SESSION. ABOVE PROJECTED TARGET.]
[BREAKDOWN:]
[+3 — BREAD. YES, THE BREAD. STOP LAUGHING.]
[+4 — DINNER INVITATION APPROACH. LOW PRESSURE, GAVE HER ROOM TO DECIDE.]
[+5 — RESTAURANT CONVERSATION. SUBJECT RESPONDED TO GENUINE LISTENING AND HONEST ANSWERS.]
[+3 — WALK HOME EXTENSION. SHE CHOSE THE LONG WAY. THAT WAS HER DECISION, NOT YOURS.]
[+3 — THE FLOWER. TIMING AND DELIVERY WERE CORRECT. WELL DONE.]
[CURRENT ASSESSMENT: SUBJECT IS WARMING SIGNIFICANTLY. THE WALL IS NOT DOWN BUT SHE IS STANDING CLOSER TO THE EDGE OF IT THAN SHE HAS IN A WHILE.]
[RECOMMENDED NEXT STEPS: MAINTAIN CONSISTENCY. DO NOT OVERCORRECT BY PUSHING HARDER TOMORROW. LET TONIGHT SIT.]
[ALSO: GOOD NIGHT, HAWK.]
Mike put the phone down on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and, for the first time in years, felt almost happy.
Twenty-nine percent. One Tuesday.
He had a whole week of Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to look forward to.
He stopped when he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair where he had hung it when he came in.
There was something in the inside pocket that didn't belong to him.
He reached in and took it out. A small, slim, burgundy wallet that can hold a card or two and some folded cash.
At some point during the evening, it must have fallen out of Petricia's bag and into his pocket because of the way they had been standing while she was getting her things at the restaurant.
He opened it without thinking and found her building key card, two credit cards, a folded receipt, and about $300 in cash.
"That's a lot of money..."
He closed it again.
He could leave a note under the office door or he could wait until morning. She probably hadn't realized yet, and maybe she wouldn't until she went to look for it.
He stood in the middle of his apartment for five seconds and made a decision.
"Yeah, fuck waiting... I need to use every chance I have to raise her desire more."
He went back downstairs.
There was a door off the main lobby that led to the management side of the building. Beyond that was a short hallway that led to Gerald and Petricia's private apartment.
Mike had never gone past the office. He knocked on the door at the end of the hallway after passing it.
There was... nothing.
He knocked again, this time a little harder. "Petricia, it's Mike. You left something in my coat."
And again... nothing yet.
He gave the handle a try. It wasn't locked, which was probably a normal level of security for the end of the night in a building where the landlady lived and worked.
'What the fuck...? Isn't this too dangerous?'
'But who am I to judge... I always break in anyway.'
He opened the door a little bit and then stopped.
He could hear her.
Not right away, not clearly.
It was the kind of sound that took a second to figure out because it was quiet and trying to be even quieter. But after he put it down, there was no doubt about it.
She was sobbing.
Not the loud, showy kind that people make to get attention, but it was the other type. The kind that happens when you think you're alone, when you've held it together long enough to get to a private place, and then let it go when no one is watching.
Mike stood in the door for a minute.
He could go. Put the wallet under the door to the office and go back upstairs.
That would have been the smart choice, the one that kept things neat and professional and in their right places.
'Oh yeah... this is a good fucking chance indeed.'
He went inside.
He said, "Hey," in a low voice.
The noise stopped right away. There was a pause, the kind that happens when someone is trying to calm down quickly and is buying time while they do it.
"M-Mike..." Her voice was steady, or as steady as it could be on short notice. "How did you... get in?"
"The door was open." He said, "I came to give you back your wallet because you left it in my jacket."
He held it up, even though it was difficult to see her in the dim light of the apartment. She was sitting on the couch, facing away from the door.
Another pause. He heard her breathe out slowly and deeply, like someone trying to get back to normal.
"You should have knocked," she said.
"Well, I did," Mike said. "Two times."
She didn't know what to say.
He didn't turn on the lights. He didn't go any farther into the room.
He stayed where he was, a few steps inside the door, and let her choose.
He said, "I'll leave it on the table and go."
He walked to the closest flat surface, which was a small table by the door, and put the wallet down.
He was about to leave when she spoke.
"Gerald called," she said. "When I was about to sleep..."
Mike came to a stop. He didn't say anything, but he just waited.
"He won't be home tonight," she said. Her voice was still calm and steady. "He said he's staying with a friend."
"That means he lost enough money at the casino that he doesn't want to talk about it when he gets home."
'Ohh...?' Mike saw the golden chance he finally had waited for.
"It's not the first time," she said. And then, in a softer voice, "It won't be the last."
Mike turned around and leaned against the frame of the door. He could see her better now that the apartment was darker.
She was sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and wearing the burgundy blouse she had on for dinner. There was a glass of water on the small side table next to her with the flower he had given her.
She had put the flower in a glass of water.
He said, "You don't have to explain anything to me."
"I understand," she said. "I'm not going to explain it to you."
She was probably talking to herself about it. Saying it out loud to see how it sounded.
She looked up at him then, and even though it was dark, he could tell that the call had made her lose her cool. The thing that kept her apart from everyone else was still mostly there. But the edges were showing.
Mike crossed the room slowly, not asking permission. He just moved to the couch and sat down at the other end of it, leaving enough space between them that she could pretend it was nothing if she needed to.
She didn't move away.
That told him something.
For a while neither of them said anything. The apartment was quiet in the way that apartments get late at night when the building settles and the street outside goes thin with traffic.
"How long?" Mike said.
She looked at the glass.
"Five years," she said. "Since before we bought this building..."
"I thought owning something together would fix it... that's the thing they don't tell you, and it doesn't fix anything..."
"It just gives you something else to argue about when the other thing comes up."
Mike didn't say anything.
"He's not a bad person," she said, and the way she said it made it clear that she had said it many times before, to herself mostly, in exactly this tone. "He's just... he does what he wants."
"He always has. And I—" She stopped.
"You don't," Mike said.
She looked at him.
"You manage the building," he said. "You handle the tenants."
"You hold everything together and you do it without making it a performance. And he goes to the casino and calls you after the fact."
She was quiet for a moment. "You noticed a lot... and it's not even a week yet."
"I notice things," he said.
She turned back to the glass. The silence came back, but it was a different kind now.
"He's not going to stop," she said. "I know that..."
"I think I've known it for a long time." She said it flatly, like a fact she had already processed and put in a drawer somewhere, except the drawer kept sliding open at night.
Mike shifted slightly and reached over, and he put his hand on her shoulder.
She went still.
"You don't have to carry all of it yourself," he said. "If he keeps doing something free like that at his own will... maybe you should try to be free and honest about yourself too."
She looked at his hand on her shoulder. "Mike..."
Then she said, quietly, "What do you mean by doing something free and honest...?"
"Oh... you should know that..." Mike smirked. "Don't you want some little comfort...?"
"I... uhm..."