right over her, not even seeing her. Lauren keeps her lips pressed firmly to Elenaâs hair. She doesnât turn as she opens the back door, saying over her shoulder, âYouâll watch him, Kate?â
Kate nods, unable to speak. Laurenâs ferocity startles her, reduces her. She watches as they disappear inside. When the back door shuts, the yard goes abruptly quiet, Elenaâs cries swallowed by the huge, airtight house. Even Maxâs whimpering tapers off quickly, now that his mother isnât there. Kate looks at the baby and the baby looks at her, then wanders back to the grass. A bird chirps sweetly in the trees. The surface of the pool is calm again, the tumult already forgotten. Kateâs white sunglasses quiver on the bottom. When she looks again at Max, he has returned to playing in the trash pile, tearing leaves into pieces. She can do nothing but stand there, watching him, until a thick wind stirs, scattering the pile and blowing the trash back into the pool.
Town Watch
D riving to Mister Wok at quarter to midnight on a rainy Tuesday, Dave curses under his breath. Mister Wok is a shabby suburban Chinese restaurant that probably does no business after nine on weekdays and closes in fifteen minutes and heâs the guy who just called for a single carton of moo shu pork. On the phone, Dave couldnât understand a word the guy was saying, but he sounded justifiably annoyed. âAppreciate it,â Dave said, and left the house immediately so as not to keep the guy waiting. Now heâs hitting every red light. âGoddamn it,â he says. This is new, the cursing. At fifty, Dave has finally discovered its appeal.
He parks in the deserted lot by the strip mall and runs for the Chinese place. The door is locked. He signals the guy vacuuming, who ambles through the empty restaurant to let him in. âThanks, buddy,â Dave says, rain dripping down his glasses. The guy returns to his vacuum. After-hours rock music is blasting through the speakers. The cashier, a teenage girl with a shy smile, appears from the back to hand him the stapled brown paper bag. Dave wants to tell her itâs not what it looks like, that heâs not some lonely middle-aged guy ordering takeout to eat alone in front of the TV. He doesnât even like Chinese food. âEleven fifty,â she says, and he hands her a twenty, saying, âKeep the change.â An absurd tipâAnn would kill him.
As he hurries home, wipers flapping, the car filling with the smell of greasy pork, Dave tries to remember if heâs ever even seen Meghan eat Chinese. His daughter has always had weird eating habits, but lately sheâs been choosy about when and if she eats at all. She refuses to eat in public but doesnât like to eat at home, either, at least at any normal times, like meals. Sheâll sit at the table with him and Ann and complain about her stomach hurting, then excuse herself and disappear to her room. Later, though, she might eat a frozen pizza. Or the next morning, heâll find an empty ice-cream tub in the trash. It isnât healthy, all that junk food, but itâs better than nothing, Dave thinks. This is his rationale when Meghan announces some urgent craving at eleven thirty on a Tuesday, when heâs settled in front of the TV in the den with a bowl of chips and a beer. âDaddy?â she calls. âIâm starving. Can you go get me aâ¦â Is she testing him? Wanting to see if heâll go? If thereâs anything he wouldnât do for her? His little girl, the baby of the family. The one who loves him unreservedly. He canât say no to Meghan, especially if it means seeing her eat something. Iâm starving , she tells him. He goes.
Dave tears through the sleeping streets, wanting to get the food home before Meghan has a change of heart. At the stop signs, he jams on the brakes. The car jerks forward. A little thing, but it feels good to do it.
Kate nods, unable to speak. Laurenâs ferocity startles her, reduces her. She watches as they disappear inside. When the back door shuts, the yard goes abruptly quiet, Elenaâs cries swallowed by the huge, airtight house. Even Maxâs whimpering tapers off quickly, now that his mother isnât there. Kate looks at the baby and the baby looks at her, then wanders back to the grass. A bird chirps sweetly in the trees. The surface of the pool is calm again, the tumult already forgotten. Kateâs white sunglasses quiver on the bottom. When she looks again at Max, he has returned to playing in the trash pile, tearing leaves into pieces. She can do nothing but stand there, watching him, until a thick wind stirs, scattering the pile and blowing the trash back into the pool.
Town Watch
D riving to Mister Wok at quarter to midnight on a rainy Tuesday, Dave curses under his breath. Mister Wok is a shabby suburban Chinese restaurant that probably does no business after nine on weekdays and closes in fifteen minutes and heâs the guy who just called for a single carton of moo shu pork. On the phone, Dave couldnât understand a word the guy was saying, but he sounded justifiably annoyed. âAppreciate it,â Dave said, and left the house immediately so as not to keep the guy waiting. Now heâs hitting every red light. âGoddamn it,â he says. This is new, the cursing. At fifty, Dave has finally discovered its appeal.
He parks in the deserted lot by the strip mall and runs for the Chinese place. The door is locked. He signals the guy vacuuming, who ambles through the empty restaurant to let him in. âThanks, buddy,â Dave says, rain dripping down his glasses. The guy returns to his vacuum. After-hours rock music is blasting through the speakers. The cashier, a teenage girl with a shy smile, appears from the back to hand him the stapled brown paper bag. Dave wants to tell her itâs not what it looks like, that heâs not some lonely middle-aged guy ordering takeout to eat alone in front of the TV. He doesnât even like Chinese food. âEleven fifty,â she says, and he hands her a twenty, saying, âKeep the change.â An absurd tipâAnn would kill him.
As he hurries home, wipers flapping, the car filling with the smell of greasy pork, Dave tries to remember if heâs ever even seen Meghan eat Chinese. His daughter has always had weird eating habits, but lately sheâs been choosy about when and if she eats at all. She refuses to eat in public but doesnât like to eat at home, either, at least at any normal times, like meals. Sheâll sit at the table with him and Ann and complain about her stomach hurting, then excuse herself and disappear to her room. Later, though, she might eat a frozen pizza. Or the next morning, heâll find an empty ice-cream tub in the trash. It isnât healthy, all that junk food, but itâs better than nothing, Dave thinks. This is his rationale when Meghan announces some urgent craving at eleven thirty on a Tuesday, when heâs settled in front of the TV in the den with a bowl of chips and a beer. âDaddy?â she calls. âIâm starving. Can you go get me aâ¦â Is she testing him? Wanting to see if heâll go? If thereâs anything he wouldnât do for her? His little girl, the baby of the family. The one who loves him unreservedly. He canât say no to Meghan, especially if it means seeing her eat something. Iâm starving , she tells him. He goes.
Dave tears through the sleeping streets, wanting to get the food home before Meghan has a change of heart. At the stop signs, he jams on the brakes. The car jerks forward. A little thing, but it feels good to do it.
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