“I like it,” Abigail says. “It’s…different. But I think it could work for me. For us.” She took about a million photos as we toured the unit—a pretty short tour, given the cozy size of the place—with the intention of showing Sam later. The second bedroom, of course, is for him. The rent’s about right and I guess February isn’t a hot time for the rental market so hopefully the odds are in her favor. Her motion for interim alimony is going through the court now, but I guess things have been pretty rough for her the past few weeks. I can see from Abigail’s face how much of a toll all this is taking on her, but there’s something about her these days that’s reminding me more and more of the sister of my early youth. I can see the determination in her, the sheer grit that she’s relying on to get through the days.

“That, and caffeine,” she joked in the car on our way here.

She drums her fingers on the windowsill. Ringless fingers. The last apartment we went to see, I noticed how the agent quickly glanced down at her hands when Abigail mentioned needing a second bedroom for her son. I didn’t mention it but something in Abigail’s eyes let me know she’d noticed it too. Maybe it was naive of me to be surprised; I guess I didn’t think people still cared so much in this day and age.

Sam’s been doing okay, Abigail says. He knows about the divorce and has been upset but not devastated, according to her. Privately, I wonder if he’s a bit relieved. She says his main concerns were whether he’d be moving schools and where he’d spend Christmas, but that overall he’s doing okay with the news. He’s going to a therapist who’s working with him on something called “exposure therapy” to treat the OCD; as far as I can make it out it seems to be a fancier clinical term for “feel the fear and do it anyway.” The therapist has told Abigail that the job right now is twofold: to treat the compulsion, and also the shame around it, and that treating the shame is actually the more important issue right now. But she says even in a few weeks, Sam seems to have come quite a way. Dennis has taken him to basketball practice this morning, but we’re going to pick him up for lunch after the apartment viewings.

Abigail and I talked about Hannah, too: how Oliver Skyped with her for the first time two weeks ago, and how we’ve agreed that she and her moms will come visit us over February break. How I keep trying to tell myself I’m not nervous, but unfortunately I’m a terrible liar, even to myself.