Mark watched from the peephole as Dan reversed his Escort and headed out of the parking lot. For good measure, he glanced at the clock, noted the time, and sat staring at the TV, timing out a full fifteen minutes, just to ensure that if Dan did forget something and had to come back, he wouldn’t be caught in a compromising position.
Safe from what? Mark wondered. I should be safe—or free—to do whatever I want in my own house, right? I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t have to worry about some other guy’s disapproval of how I choose to run my own life. Yet, there was a part of Mark that was grateful for the disapproval, for Dan’s paranoia. At least it showed someone cared.
There were so few people who cared. Mark thought briefly of the single mother who had raised him, Sharon, and how she seldom
