thought:
Does Finn wear underwear? If so, why were they using diapers?
She would have to ask James.
Ana looked around for a stuffed animal, anything she might remember Finn loving, but there were only block puzzles and flashlights, nothing huggable. As she turned out the light, Ana thought:
I’ll buy him a teddy bear, something that James will approve of
.
She continued.
In the basement, Ana moved the laundry to the dryer, stepping over the detritus that ends up in basements, the remnants of Finn’s babyhood: pieces of a crib, a high chair. Skates. Did Marcus play hockey? He’d never mentioned it.
When Ana emerged from the basement, darkness hadpulled up to the windows. She went to the empty fridge that she had already wiped clean and pulled out its one occupant, a half-drunk bottle of vodka. She poured a glass and drank it whole, a snake with a mouse, then turned up the music to hear it above the vacuum.
She remembered sitting in this living room with Sarah and Finn on several weekend afternoons in the wake of James’s firing.
When it happened, she realized that she had been waiting for it. She was prepared always for the great bad thing, and when she reached the porch that evening, James’s box of books on the porch confirmed exactly what had happened. Her heartbeat doubled. She assumed a neutral face.
She had opened the door and hung up her coat, and James’s, which lay in a heap in the foyer. James was in the kitchen, but he wasn’t cooking. He was drinking a beer, leaning on the island like he’d been looking for a place to rest. Ana laid the groceries on the counter.
“I got fired,” he said. Then: “You might want to sit down.”
“There’s more?”
“What?”
“Why do you want me to sit down?”
James stared at her.
“Because I got fired. I thought you might want to brace yourself.”
“Oh. But you told me first and
then
you told me to sit down.”
James had drunk the beer from the bottle. Ana saw that she was making him furious, and she began to move around the kitchen quickly, trying to piece together a strategy. But there was still this twister touching down in her stomach. Asif looking in from the window, she saw the two of them with all their sensible choices, and all of it vanishing like an invisible man in a movie, top to bottom, just fading out. A rush of noise erupted in her skull. She concentrated, braced herself to do the right thing.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and went to James, putting her arms around his body. He smelled her neck. He moved a hand down around her waist, grabbing for her ass, rubbing his groin against her. She broke away.
“You need to eat,” she said, rooting in the fridge. Then she returned, ruffled his hair, and retreated again to look through cupboards.
Over her shoulder, she asked: “What happened? Was it Sly?”
James told her the details, sitting on a barstool while she lined up vegetables, began chopping onions and leeks into her glass bowls. She said: “What an asshole,” and “Did you talk to HR about severance?” and “We can file for wrongful dismissal”—all the things James wanted her to say, each comment another application of balm until the wound was fairly covered, and James a little drunk.
“We should put the adoption thing on hold,” said Ana, tossing the salad. She thought James would fight her, but he didn’t say anything, his head down.
The two of them sat in front of their pasta at last, neither of them eating. Ana wondered if her husband was also feeling that they had lost their grasp. Something had been severed and set adrift; Ana was left feeling arid. But she suspected James’s sensation of loss, radiating off his curved back as he picked at his food, was something entirely different, bound to a manhood she could scarcely bring herself to imagine.
In Sarah’s living room, weeks later, Ana had told her friend: “James has a beard.”
“Is it sexy?” asked Sarah. Ana had never considered this
Does Finn wear underwear? If so, why were they using diapers?
She would have to ask James.
Ana looked around for a stuffed animal, anything she might remember Finn loving, but there were only block puzzles and flashlights, nothing huggable. As she turned out the light, Ana thought:
I’ll buy him a teddy bear, something that James will approve of
.
She continued.
In the basement, Ana moved the laundry to the dryer, stepping over the detritus that ends up in basements, the remnants of Finn’s babyhood: pieces of a crib, a high chair. Skates. Did Marcus play hockey? He’d never mentioned it.
When Ana emerged from the basement, darkness hadpulled up to the windows. She went to the empty fridge that she had already wiped clean and pulled out its one occupant, a half-drunk bottle of vodka. She poured a glass and drank it whole, a snake with a mouse, then turned up the music to hear it above the vacuum.
She remembered sitting in this living room with Sarah and Finn on several weekend afternoons in the wake of James’s firing.
When it happened, she realized that she had been waiting for it. She was prepared always for the great bad thing, and when she reached the porch that evening, James’s box of books on the porch confirmed exactly what had happened. Her heartbeat doubled. She assumed a neutral face.
She had opened the door and hung up her coat, and James’s, which lay in a heap in the foyer. James was in the kitchen, but he wasn’t cooking. He was drinking a beer, leaning on the island like he’d been looking for a place to rest. Ana laid the groceries on the counter.
“I got fired,” he said. Then: “You might want to sit down.”
“There’s more?”
“What?”
“Why do you want me to sit down?”
James stared at her.
“Because I got fired. I thought you might want to brace yourself.”
“Oh. But you told me first and
then
you told me to sit down.”
James had drunk the beer from the bottle. Ana saw that she was making him furious, and she began to move around the kitchen quickly, trying to piece together a strategy. But there was still this twister touching down in her stomach. Asif looking in from the window, she saw the two of them with all their sensible choices, and all of it vanishing like an invisible man in a movie, top to bottom, just fading out. A rush of noise erupted in her skull. She concentrated, braced herself to do the right thing.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and went to James, putting her arms around his body. He smelled her neck. He moved a hand down around her waist, grabbing for her ass, rubbing his groin against her. She broke away.
“You need to eat,” she said, rooting in the fridge. Then she returned, ruffled his hair, and retreated again to look through cupboards.
Over her shoulder, she asked: “What happened? Was it Sly?”
James told her the details, sitting on a barstool while she lined up vegetables, began chopping onions and leeks into her glass bowls. She said: “What an asshole,” and “Did you talk to HR about severance?” and “We can file for wrongful dismissal”—all the things James wanted her to say, each comment another application of balm until the wound was fairly covered, and James a little drunk.
“We should put the adoption thing on hold,” said Ana, tossing the salad. She thought James would fight her, but he didn’t say anything, his head down.
The two of them sat in front of their pasta at last, neither of them eating. Ana wondered if her husband was also feeling that they had lost their grasp. Something had been severed and set adrift; Ana was left feeling arid. But she suspected James’s sensation of loss, radiating off his curved back as he picked at his food, was something entirely different, bound to a manhood she could scarcely bring herself to imagine.
In Sarah’s living room, weeks later, Ana had told her friend: “James has a beard.”
“Is it sexy?” asked Sarah. Ana had never considered this
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