He’d covered them in small blue ballpoint writing on the drive down through Kansas.

“I found a furnished one-bedroom apartment on Twenty-First Street,” he said, tapping the address at the top of the first page with his index finger.

“Six-month lease.

She can move her clothes and her TV over there tomorrow morning.”

“And where will you be sleeping during your two-week rotations on the rig?” I asked.

“Right here with Benji,” he said.

“And when my rotation’s over, I’ll split the days.