“Copies.”
She opened one. “Ari, this is his amplifier.”
“I know.”
“This is more than my car payment.”
“I know that too.”
“Are you sure?”
I sealed the box. “For the first time in nine years.”
“Are you sure?”
Chelsea nodded. “Tell me what to pack.”
That’s why I loved Chelsea. She didn’t take over. She handed me tape when I reached for it.
***
At 5:30, the food arrived.
Chelsea carried the bags in and paused by the counter. “You still ordered dinner?”
“I ordered it yesterday,” I said. “I’m not wasting money twice.”
“Tell me what to pack.”
“What do you want to do with it?”
I looked at the table. The folders were stacked neatly now. Rent. Utilities. Groceries. Scott’s phone. Equipment. Lease.
“Set it out, Chels.”
Chelsea opened one bag. “Like a party?”
“Yes,” I said. “A goodbye party.”
I looked at the table.
She glanced at me, then nodded. “Okay.”
We put the food on the counter. No decorations. No candles. Just dinner, boxes, paperwork, and the life Scott had mistaken for background noise.
At six, Mr. Clement knocked.
He held out a plain envelope. “I brought the notice form and a copy for your records.”
“Thank you. Would you mind stepping in while I sign?”
Mr. Clement knocked.
