Page 28 of Empty Net
"It was evidence."
"Of what?"
"Poor judgment."
"Yours or mine?"
"Organizational."
He laughs again. Smaller this time. Tired.
We walk the concourse toward the staff hallway. Our shoulders do not touch. They almost do twice. The almost is loud.
At the fork near the film room, he turns toward the offices. I turn toward the parking deck.
"Nolan," he says.
I stop.
He has said my name before. In the hallway. In the film room. But here, after the story, it sounds less like a label and more like a hand held out without touching.
"Thank you," he says.
Two words. Mine, from the hallway, given back.
I nod. "Night."
"Night."
I walk to the parking deck. The truck is where I left it. Same spot. Same routine.
But when I get home, the apartment is not exactly the same. The kitchen light is the same. The counter is clean. The pillow is undisturbed.
The difference is me.
I stand at the counter and think about fresh ice at four in the morning, and my father pretending not to see me fall, and Caleb laughing in an empty arena like my silence has edges he is learning how to read.
I do not know where the ice fails.
Not here.
Not yet.
NOLAN
Caleb's apartment is too clean for a man who claims not to have his life together.
This is the first thing I notice.
The second thing is that he has three pairs of shoes lined up beside the door, all facing the same direction, which tells me more about him than the roster reports ever did. Running shoes, dress shoes, old sneakers with cracked soles. Order, work, the version of himself he keeps because throwing things away requires admitting they are finished.
The third thing is that I am standing in Caleb Wren's apartment at 11:18 PM on a Thursday and the door is closed behind me.
The recusal is complete. Alderman has the timeline. Compliance has the file. Caleb is no longer attached to my evaluation, trade status, contract, medical reports, roster minutes, or anything else that can be printed in a document and signed by people in offices.
There is no professional conflict remaining.
This does not make the room safe.
