squeeze out enough to buy you a beer to cry in.”
“It’s not your problem.”
“It is. It is my problem. I don’t want to be one of those assholes in Econ… like mom, telling everyone when to come in. Lights out. Grounding you if you spend your whole allowance. You know what I mean? The only way I can come to work everyday is if I can convince myself, once in a great while, that I facilitated some good. That I didn’t yell ‘times up’ and stopped you all from playing ops just when you were about to catch the robber. If I could be the robber— if I could rob some Peter to pay Paul, I… I need you to know that.”
“I know.” McCallum leaned back and looked over Clement, out at the blue lake. “That’s about the only thing I do know.”
* * *
Lillian Leveski pulled the hem of her daughter’s navy blue dress. The girl squirmed in her arms, arching her back, trying to flip out of her mother’s grasp.
“Lizzie,” she hissed. “Sit up.”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me ‘no’. Sit up. You’re going to conk your head open. You want to go to the doctor?”
“No.”
“Then sit up.”
“No.” She threw back her arms. The added momentum almost helped her break free. Lillian clutched her back, fingers splayed and hooked, and pushed her back up.
The cafeteria had no food. Round tables, bolted to the floor, shiny plastic dulled from unrelenting use of power disinfectants. The space held 50 tables, a third occupied by couples or small families, huddled, chatting not to be heard. The aggregate of tense whispers and nervous cavil created a low continuous rumble.
Emory entered from the far end of the room. He’d been told the table number, but the tables had no labels. He glanced around until finding his wife and daughter. He couldn’t force a smile. He knew he should. That had been his plan. Lie about everything and the lies would start with a smile. He zigged and zagged, stopping at the bamboo chair across from the girls. It didn’t feel like it had the heft to support him. He sat anyway.
“Hi,” Lillian said.
“You shouldn’t have brought her,” Emory said.
“That’s how you’re going to start?”
“No, I just… this is no place for her.”
“It’s no place for anyone, but I’m not going to let her forget what you look like. She asks for you.”
Emory watched Lizzie look at him, then to his left, then farther left, at whatever. “Hi, little lady.”
“Daddy,” Lizzie said.
Her clear, thin, perfect voice. The kind of tone and timbre every flute strives for and never achieves. It hit him in the eyes. He blinked, sucked and bit the inside of his right cheek.
“Mom was busy and a sitter would’ve cost me twenty bucks I don’t have.”
“How are we doing?”
“I’m not going to lie to you. This is failing. We’re failing.”
“Your salary—”
“Covers the mortgage, com, heat and electricity. Those are up, by the way. Now we’ve got extra daycare. And did I mention food? No, that’s right, because we can’t afford any.”
“Lil. Our savings.”
“Burning through it. Tossing it onto the fire.” Lillian sat straight, controlled and calm, as if reading about their lives from a teleprompter on Emory’s face. “We won’t last much longer. Even with my parents help. It kills me more every time I ask them for anything. Like they’ve got a massive stash. We were just getting by on two salaries. With yours suspended, were losing to the math.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Lillian’s face broke into smile. But it wasn’t a good smile, Emory thought. The sides of her mouth sliced upwards like two scimitars. Her eyes bulged. “What you can do? Em, have you seen yourself? God, you’ve got no color, no hair, and lost what? 25 pounds? I’m not the one who needs the help here.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“Fine at what? Digging sewers?”
“Fine, alright.” He slammed his hand down. The slap made Lizzie jump and put a puzzled look on her face. Lillian
“It’s not your problem.”
“It is. It is my problem. I don’t want to be one of those assholes in Econ… like mom, telling everyone when to come in. Lights out. Grounding you if you spend your whole allowance. You know what I mean? The only way I can come to work everyday is if I can convince myself, once in a great while, that I facilitated some good. That I didn’t yell ‘times up’ and stopped you all from playing ops just when you were about to catch the robber. If I could be the robber— if I could rob some Peter to pay Paul, I… I need you to know that.”
“I know.” McCallum leaned back and looked over Clement, out at the blue lake. “That’s about the only thing I do know.”
* * *
Lillian Leveski pulled the hem of her daughter’s navy blue dress. The girl squirmed in her arms, arching her back, trying to flip out of her mother’s grasp.
“Lizzie,” she hissed. “Sit up.”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me ‘no’. Sit up. You’re going to conk your head open. You want to go to the doctor?”
“No.”
“Then sit up.”
“No.” She threw back her arms. The added momentum almost helped her break free. Lillian clutched her back, fingers splayed and hooked, and pushed her back up.
The cafeteria had no food. Round tables, bolted to the floor, shiny plastic dulled from unrelenting use of power disinfectants. The space held 50 tables, a third occupied by couples or small families, huddled, chatting not to be heard. The aggregate of tense whispers and nervous cavil created a low continuous rumble.
Emory entered from the far end of the room. He’d been told the table number, but the tables had no labels. He glanced around until finding his wife and daughter. He couldn’t force a smile. He knew he should. That had been his plan. Lie about everything and the lies would start with a smile. He zigged and zagged, stopping at the bamboo chair across from the girls. It didn’t feel like it had the heft to support him. He sat anyway.
“Hi,” Lillian said.
“You shouldn’t have brought her,” Emory said.
“That’s how you’re going to start?”
“No, I just… this is no place for her.”
“It’s no place for anyone, but I’m not going to let her forget what you look like. She asks for you.”
Emory watched Lizzie look at him, then to his left, then farther left, at whatever. “Hi, little lady.”
“Daddy,” Lizzie said.
Her clear, thin, perfect voice. The kind of tone and timbre every flute strives for and never achieves. It hit him in the eyes. He blinked, sucked and bit the inside of his right cheek.
“Mom was busy and a sitter would’ve cost me twenty bucks I don’t have.”
“How are we doing?”
“I’m not going to lie to you. This is failing. We’re failing.”
“Your salary—”
“Covers the mortgage, com, heat and electricity. Those are up, by the way. Now we’ve got extra daycare. And did I mention food? No, that’s right, because we can’t afford any.”
“Lil. Our savings.”
“Burning through it. Tossing it onto the fire.” Lillian sat straight, controlled and calm, as if reading about their lives from a teleprompter on Emory’s face. “We won’t last much longer. Even with my parents help. It kills me more every time I ask them for anything. Like they’ve got a massive stash. We were just getting by on two salaries. With yours suspended, were losing to the math.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Lillian’s face broke into smile. But it wasn’t a good smile, Emory thought. The sides of her mouth sliced upwards like two scimitars. Her eyes bulged. “What you can do? Em, have you seen yourself? God, you’ve got no color, no hair, and lost what? 25 pounds? I’m not the one who needs the help here.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“Fine at what? Digging sewers?”
“Fine, alright.” He slammed his hand down. The slap made Lizzie jump and put a puzzled look on her face. Lillian
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