“You’re welcome,” Daniel answers. He turns back to me and says, “Thanks for everything with the logo. You did a great job.”

“Thanks for giving me the opportunity,” I say. I realize at that moment that I probably won’t see him again. I’m done with the project and there’s really no need for any additional follow-up. The boys have their stickers and tattoos. My invoice has been paid.

He pauses, and I think he’s going to ask me a question, but then he says, “Well. Have a good evening.”

“I will. You, too,” I say. “Bye, Daniel.”

He nods and gives Julia a friendly wave, then gets into his car and drives away. I grab another chair out of the garage and Julia sits down. Her glass is nearly empty. “Can you watch the girls for a minute while I run to the store?” she asks.

“Why do you need to go to the store?”

She rattles the ice cubes in her glass as if it should be obvious. “I’m out of vodka. Justin said he had to work late,” she mutters. “Or something.”

There’s no way I want Julia on the road. And would she endanger her daughters’ lives by taking them with her if I said no? “Just stay here, Julia. I’ve got vodka.” There’s nothing like giving someone with a drinking problem a loaded gun, but the alternative is much more worrisome. I take her glass, go inside the house, add fresh ice, and pull a bottle of Absolut out of the cupboard. Chris drinks only beer or whiskey, but sometimes I mix vodka with a diet mixer if I feel like having a drink. The bottle is more than half full.

I bring it outside, hand her the glass, and start filling it with lemonade from the pitcher. “That’s good,” she says, when I’ve filled it halfway. She grabs the vodka bottle and pours until the contents of the glass reach the rim. A drink that strong would make my eyes water. Does she not feel any remorse for her behavior that day at her pool? Does she even remember?

Julia sips her drink and I keep a watchful eye on all the kids, reminding them not to get too close to the street. I don’t have to worry as much anymore though because the speed limit sign has made a world of difference. I should have said something to Daniel while he was here. Thanked him again. Thinking about the sign reminds me of how much I like talking to him.

I shouldn’t be thinking about him.

I have no reason to be thinking about him.

But I am.

I’m thinking about how happy it made me, how I felt a momentary thrill, when my phone rang and I saw his name. I’m glad he stopped by. I wish he’d stayed longer. I wish I knew if I’d ever get the chance to talk to him again.

I look over at Julia, her glass already half empty. Maybe that’s how it starts. You stumble upon something that helps you cope, fills a void. Makes you feel something different than what you currently feel. You know in the long run it probably won’t be good for you, but you do it anyway. Tell yourself you can handle it.

And before you know it you’re in so deep that you can’t find your way back out.

25

daniel

I pull away from the curb, looking at Claire in my rearview mirror. I almost asked her if she’d ever want to get together, for lunch or something, but then I stopped myself. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can ask a married woman without it coming out all wrong. I like talking to her, though. And I don’t know if she realizes it, but when we talk I get the sense that she likes having a conversation with me. It’s the way she looks at me. But maybe she looks at everyone that way.

There are plenty of women in this town who are just as pretty and nice as Claire, so I should probably spend some time talking to them instead of spinning my wheels with someone who’s already taken.

Maybe I want her because I know I can’t really have her.

Maybe she wouldn’t have minded staying in contact.

Maybe I should have asked to see her again, because she kind of looked as if she might have said yes.

26

chris

My meeting in Dallas runs so late on Friday afternoon that I miss my flight. I manage to get a seat on a later flight, but it’s canceled, too. It’s been a long, grueling week and all I want to do is get home so I can see Claire and the kids and catch up on some sleep in my own bed. I pull out my phone and when Claire answers I say, “Hi. I’m still at the airport. My meeting ran late and I missed my flight. The one after it was canceled, so I’m on standby for the next two. They’re both pretty full so the chances of me getting home tonight are slim.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, and I can hear the concern in her voice. “Are you going to check back into the hotel?”

“I don’t know. I booked myself on the 7:10 A.M. flight tomorrow morning, just in case. Something tells me that might be the one I’m on. I’ll probably just stay here.”

“You sound really tired.”

I take a deep breath and exhale. “I’m okay. How are the kids?”

“They’re missing you. They’ll be disappointed if you don’t make it home tonight, but they’ll understand.”

I don’t think they’ll understand. Claire told me a few weeks ago that they start watching the door a half hour before I’m due home. Nothing will make them happy but the sight of me actually walking through it.

“Tell them I’ll take them somewhere fun tomorrow.”

“They’re supposed to go to the circus with my parents tomorrow night and then sleep over. Do you want me to keep them home instead?”

“No. That’s not fair to them. If I get on the early flight, I should be home by nine thirty or so, depending on how long it takes me to find my luggage after I land. We’ll have all day.” I pause when an announcement comes over the loudspeaker. “Listen. I better go. I’ll text you when I know more. Hopefully I’ll be home by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

After I hang up I eat a crappy taco and wait to see if I’ll be lucky enough to get on the next standby flight. Unfortunately, I’m not. I also discover that the taco was a very bad idea, and I pop a few antacids and thumb through the abandoned copy of Time magazine that someone left on the chair next to me. When I’m done with the magazine I put it back for the next person and open my laptop. I work for close to two hours and then I’m just as unlucky when the next standby flight takes off and I’m not on it. I’m not looking forward to spending the night at the airport, but it’s almost midnight and I’m too tired to deal with checking back into a hotel. I find a seat in the corner next to a wall and I wedge my laptop in the small space between my body and the arm of the chair. Leaning my head against the wall, I doze fitfully, waking up half a dozen times. I’m the first one in line the next morning when they announce the boarding call for my flight.

I walk in the door at nine thirty, in desperate need of more coffee, a shower, and a shave; I’m way past a five o’clock shadow. The kids are eating breakfast and they fly out of their chairs and into my arms.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, guys,” I say, pulling them closer. “I missed you.”

“Mom said you’re gonna take us someplace today,” Josh says.

“Daddy might be too tired,” Claire says. “Let him sit down and have some coffee.”

“Are you too tired, Daddy?” Jordan asks. She looks at me, a worried expression on her face, lip wobbling.