At 10:00 AM on Saturday, my life was stacked by the mailboxes.
Eleven boxes.
Garrett had packed them Friday while I was at school.
He stood beside them in The Ashcroft's lobby with his arms crossed.
"Fifteen minutes, Cal."
"Then CMPD."
The concierge looked down at his desk.
Eight residents had come down for their mail at the same time.
None of them were getting their mail.
Brielle sat on the lobby bench in her teal jersey.
Her phone was propped on her knee.
"Okay, you guys, storytime," she whispered to it.
"This is the ex."
My grandmother's quilt was over her lap.
Blue and yellow.
Double Wedding Ring.
Grandma had pieced it the winter I was born.
I opened my notes app.
I'd made the list Friday night.
I checked each box against it.
Books.
Classroom stuff.
Winter clothes.
Garrett watched me tap.
"Those Venmos were rent, Cal."
"You were a tenant."
He said it loud enough for the residents.
I didn't argue.
Fourteen payments.
$1,050 on the first of every month.
Fourteen times, I'd typed the same memo.
half the mortgage
Unit 1408 was deeded to Garrett Mabry.
Only Garrett Mabry.
I'd paid $14,700 toward a door I couldn't open anymore.
"Box six," I said, and checked it off.
Brielle tilted her phone at me.
"She's literally doing inventory."
"Babe, is she okay?"
"She's fine," Garrett said.
"She's always like this."
I reached the bottom of the list.
One line wasn't checked.
Grandma's quilt
I crossed the lobby to the bench.
Brielle pulled the quilt up to her chin.
"It's so cozy."
"I didn't think you'd want it."
"That's my grandmother's," I said.
"I'll fold it."
I lifted it off her lap.
I didn't yank.
I lifted it the way you take a blanket off a kid when nap time's over.
A woman by the mailboxes said it for everybody.
"That's her GRANDMA'S quilt!"
Brielle's phone was still recording.
She didn't say anything into it.
I folded the quilt in half, then in thirds.
The corners matched.
The lobby was so quiet I could hear the elevator cables.
Then a pickup pulled up at the curb.
Rhett Langford got out in a ball cap and a faded Georgia T-shirt.
He'd texted me Friday night.
What time?
I'd told him not to come.
He came at ten anyway.
Two residents recognized him at once.
One of them dropped his mail.
Rhett nodded to the concierge.
He picked up two boxes.
Garrett stepped into his path.
"Careful, man."
"She'll be in your phone by Friday."
Rhett shifted the boxes on his hip.
"She can have it."
He walked around Garrett and out the door.
Then he came back for two more.
Eight residents watched a starting pitcher carry out my winter clothes.
Garrett checked his watch.
"Eleven minutes."
Nobody laughed this time.
Brielle had turned her phone to the wall.
Then it buzzed.
She read the screen.
"Babe, T's car is here at noon."
"For the Rebound shoot."
Garrett shushed her.
Too late.
I'd heard "Hey, T" on Thursday.
A player had said it to a man in a lanyard with a very good smile.
The partnerships man.
The man who wanted me on camera for Rebound.
I didn't say his name out loud.
Rhett carried out the last box.
I took the fob off my key ring.
I set it on the concierge desk, face up.
"Unit 1408," I told him.
"Thank you for the packages."
He nodded.
He'd signed for my school supplies all year.
Garrett said "Cal" once more.
I walked out with the quilt.
The truck cab smelled like pine tar and coffee.
The boxes filled the bed.
My canvas tote sat on the floor by my feet.
Rhett glanced down at it at a red light.
The sign stuck out of the top, folded and cracked.
SORRY CALLIE
"You kept it?"
"Thirty-one thousand people read it."
"I wanted the original."
He thought about that for a block.
"I've got a guest condo uptown."
"Nobody uses it."
"No."
"Callie—"
"Kaitlyn's couch."
"Is it a nice couch?"
"It's a terrible couch."
"It's mine for now."
He didn't push.
He just turned toward Kaitlyn's street.
Kaitlyn was getting married Thursday.
I was her maid of honor.
Garrett was a groomsman.
He'd been Wyatt's roommate in college.
He was bringing Brielle.
I told all of it to the windshield.
Rhett kept his eyes on the road.
"Want company?"
I looked down at the quilt in my lap.
Thirds.
The corners matched.
"Thursday."
"Wear a tie."