She told the man she had lived there only a little over a year herself, and then thought if she didn’t say anything else, he would figure out it was not a good day and leave—which he did, but not without asking if he could come back again at a better time. He told her it would really mean a lot to him, and when Shelley looked out toward the car, the woman nodded and waved, this time as if to encourage her to let him in. He pulled out a photo of himself as a young man with his mother, standing right there in front of the house. He seemed like someone she would like, but what if she didn’t? What if she didn’t and then he wouldn’t go away?

“Perhaps when my husband is home,” Shelley said. “That would be best.” She’d whispered so Harvey wouldn’t start asking about his dad again.

Now, there’s a creak down the hall, a thump, and she hopes Harvey is fast asleep and doesn’t hear this: the wind, the mouse, the dog. Please let him sleep through the night, she thought. She is exhausted these days, and so is it any wonder that she screwed up at work the way that she did? Is it any wonder at all?

Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she thinks of old numbers: all the addresses where she has lived, numbers on mailboxes and spray-painted on curbs, some she wishes she could forget, numbers of telephones perched on tables or tethered to walls she will never see again, emergency numbers, numbers important for a child to memorize. Or she distracts herself by thinking of old jingles and ads, like I don’t want to grow up, I’m a Toys “R” Us kid, or I am stuck on Band-Aid, or Where’s the beef? Body on Tap. Gentlemen prefer Hanes. It’s one of those things that once she starts, she can’t stop, more and more stuff crowding in and getting stuck, and usually she can get lost in there. Jordache. Jhirmack. Usually she can close her eyes and find sleep.

“I’ll be back,” the man said that day. And every time since, Shelley has pretended that she’s not home. She had told him that he could come inside on a day when her husband was home, and she is still waiting for that day. It’s been over a year since she has even talked to Brent, but she still finds herself thinking that it could happen; he could have a change of heart and show up at the door.