They did not leave quietly, but they did not leave loudly either, which was worse in its own way. For the first week Corinne spoke to me only through the wall. The second week she started leaving printed spreadsheets on the kitchen counter showing what they had contributed. Groceries, mostly. A ceiling fan. Nine hundred and forty dollars over four years against forty-one thousand of mine, and she had gone to the trouble of formatting it in columns.
On day nineteen I found out why they had needed that card so badly. Desmond had been out of work since the previous September and had never told her. She had been covering for a man who was covering for himself, and the money she was taking from me was going toward a lie she had not been told either. When she learned it, in my kitchen, she sat down on the floor. I did not comfort her. I made tea and set a cup beside her, which was as far as I could reach that day.
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