Gabe joined Lou awkwardly by the dining room door in the long heavy silence that followed. Ruth smiled at the stranger.

“Lou,” Ruth said quietly, “perhaps you should have some water or coffee. I’ll make some coffee.”

Lou sighed loudly. “Am I an embarrassment, Ruth? Am I?” he snapped. “You told me to come home. I’m home!” He made his way to the living room across the hall, like a sailor aboard a rocky ship.

Gabe walked over to the table to Ruth. “Hello, Ruth, I’m very pleased to finally meet you.”

She barely looked him in the eye as she limply took his hand.

“Hello,” she said quietly. “Please excuse me while I take all this away.” She stood up from the table and began carrying the leftover cheese plates and coffee cups into the kitchen.

“I’ll help you,” Gabe offered.

“No, no, please, sit down.” She rushed into the kitchen with a load in her arms.

Gabe followed her anyway and found her leaning against the kitchen counter where she had placed the dirty plates, her back to him. Her head was down and her shoulders were hunched, all life and soul of the woman gone at that very moment. He placed the plates he had carried in beside the sink so that she knew he was there.

She jumped, alert to his presence, and composed herself, then turned around to face him.

“Gabe.” She smiled tightly. “I told you not to bother.”

“I wanted to help,” he said softly then. “I’m sorry about Lou. I wasn’t out with him tonight.”

“No?” She folded her arms and looked embarrassed for not knowing.

“No. But I do work with him at the office. I was there late when he got back from the…well, from his coffee meeting.”

“When he got back to the office? Why would he…” She looked at him with confusion before a shadow fell across her face as realization dawned. “Oh, I see. He was trying to drive home.”

It wasn’t a question, more a thought aloud, and so Gabe didn’t respond, but she softened toward him.

“Right. Well, thank you for bringing him home safely, Gabe. I’m sorry I was rude to you, but I’m just, you know…” Emotion entered her voice and she stopped talking, and instead busied herself scraping food from the plates into the trash.

“I know. You don’t have to explain.”

From the living room they heard Lou let out a “Whoa,” and then there was the sound of glass smashing, followed by his laughter.

She stopped scraping the plates and closed her eyes, sighing.

“Lou’s a good man, you know,” Gabe said softly.

“Thank you, Gabe. Believe it or not, that is exactly what I need to hear right now, but I was rather hoping it wouldn’t come from one of his work buddies. I’d like for his mother to be able to say it.” She looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Or his father. Or it would be nice to hear it from his daughter. But no, at work, Lou is the man.” She scraped the plates angrily.

“I’m not a work buddy, believe me. Lou can’t stand me.”

She looked at him curiously.

“I used to sit outside his building every morning, and yesterday, totally out of the blue, he stopped and gave me a coffee and offered me a job.”

“He mentioned something about that last night.” Ruth searched her brain. “Lou really did that?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, I’m not. Well, I am. I mean…what job did he give you?”

“A job in the mailroom.”

“How does that help him out?” She frowned.

Gabe laughed. “You think he did it for his own good?”

“Oh, that’s a terrible thing for me to say.” She bit her lip to hide her smile. “I didn’t mean it that way. I know Lou is a good man, but lately he’s just been very…busy. Or more distracted; there’s nothing wrong with being busy, as long as you’re not distracted.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But he’s not all here. It’s like he’s in two places at once. His body with us, his mind constantly elsewhere.” She composed herself. “You obviously brought out the good side in him, Gabe.”

“He’s a good man,” Gabe repeated.

Ruth didn’t answer, but it was almost as though Gabe read her mind when he said, “But you want him to become a better one, don’t you?”

She looked at him in surprise.

“Don’t worry.” He placed his hand over hers, and it was immediately comforting. “He will be.”

The Wake-Up Call

LOU AWOKE THE MORNING AFTER to a woodpecker sitting on his head hammering away with great gregariousness at the top of his skull. The pain worked its way from his frontal lobe through both his temples and down to the base of his head. Somewhere outside, a car horn beeped, ridiculous for this hour, and an engine was running. He closed his eyes again and tried to disappear into the world of sleep, but responsibilities, the woodpecker, and what sounded like the front door slamming wouldn’t allow him safe haven in his sweet dreams.

His mouth was so dry, he found himself smacking his lips together and thrashing his tongue around in order to gather the smallest amount of moisture. And then the saliva came, and he found himself in that awful place—between his bed and the toilet bowl—where his body temperature went up, his mind dizzied, and the moisture came to his mouth in waves. He kicked off his bedclothes, ran for the toilet, and fell to his knees in a heavy, heaving worship of the toilet bowl. It was only when he no longer had any energy, or anything left inside his stomach, that he sat on the heated tiles in physical and mental exhaustion, and noticed that the sky outside was bright. Unlike the darkness of his usual morning rises at this time of the year, the sky was a bright blue. And then panic overcame him, far worse than the dash he’d just encountered.

Lou dragged himself up from the floor and returned to the bedroom with the desire to grab the alarm clock and strangle the nine a.m. that flashed boldly in red. He’d slept in. They’d all missed their wake-up call. Only they hadn’t, because Ruth wasn’t in bed. Then he noticed the smell of food drifting upstairs, almost mockingly doing the cancan under his nose. He heard the clattering and clinking of cups and saucers. A baby’s babbles. Morning sounds. Long, lazy sounds that he shouldn’t be hearing. He should be hearing the hum of the fax machine and photocopier; the noise of the elevator as it moved up and down the shaft, its ping, every now and then, as though the people inside had been cooked. He should be hearing Alison’s acrylic nails on the keyboard. He should be hearing the squeaking of the mail cart as Gabe made his way down the hallways…

Gabe.

He pulled on a robe and rushed downstairs, almost falling over the shoes and briefcase he’d left at the bottom step, before bursting through the door into the kitchen. There they were, the three usual suspects: Ruth, Lucy, and Bud. Gabe wasn’t anywhere to be seen, thankfully. Egg was dribbling down Lucy’s chin, Ruth was still in her nightgown. Bud was the only one to make a sound as he sang and babbled, his eyebrows moving up and down with such expression it was as though his sentences actually meant something. Lou took this scene in, but at the same time failed to appreciate a single pixel of it.

“What the hell, Ruth?” he said loudly, causing all heads to look up and turn to him.

“Dada?” Bud asked, his voice sweet as an angel’s.

“Excuse me?” Ruth looked at him with widened eyes.

“It’s nine a.m. Nine o-fucking-clock. Why the hell didn’t you wake me?” He came closer to her.

“Lou, why are you talking like this?” Ruth frowned, then turned to her son. “Come on, Bud, a few more spoons, honey.”

“Because you’re trying to get me fired, is what you’re doing. Isn’t it? Why the hell didn’t you wake me?”

“Lucy, why don’t you go and wash your hands,” Ruth spoke calmly, her eyes following her daughter out of the room and then turning to Lou. “I was going to wake you, but Gabe said not to. He said to let you rest until about ten o’clock, that a rest would do you good, and I agreed,” she said matter-of-factly.