Rhonda Cantrell prattled around the house before finding him in the back bedroom, amid a pile of T-shirts and socks. He didn’t look up as she stood in the doorway. She walked into the room and sat softly on the bed, as if she feared jostling the mattress might further disturb his work.She did not speak for several uncomfortable moments. When she did: “Are you going somewhere?”“Phillip’s grandmother died,” he said.“Who’s Phillip?” she asked. She shook her red hair free from its ponytail and ran her fingers briskly through it. Calvin noted its proximity to his belongings and moved them just out of reach, as if her hair may contaminate it.“Phillip’s just six units over,” he said. He still hadn’t looked up at her.“Why are you going to his grandmother’s funeral?”“Because he asked me to.” That should have settled it, as far as he was concerned. He sniffed a couple pairs of underwear, then stuffed them into the bag. “Shouldn’t be gone longer than a week.”She nodded.
