Donald dropped his briefcase. "Hell-oo-o." He bent to untie his shoes, stepped into a pair of hand-stitched moccasins, and headed toward the kitchen, slinging his jacket on the arm of the lounger in the living room on his way.

Carol met him in the dining room, her arms held away from her body, her fingers splayed and sticky. "Kisses."

They leaned into the space between them and kissed.

"I'm cooking," she said, and he followed her back into the kitchen, loosening the knot in his tie.

"Where're the kids?" he said.

"Off getting into trouble somewhere, no doubt. Do you want something to drink before dinner?"

"I'll have a beer."

She washed her hands under the tap.

"So long as they understand Dad won't go their bail," he said, taking a seat in the breakfast nook.

She took a stein from the freezer and a can of beer from the fridge. "Oh, no," she said, pouring the beer, "They know that's what their college funds are for." She put the stein down in front of him. "How was your day?"

He took a sip, and licked a slug of foam off his lip. "Mmm," he said. "You know what would go so good with this beer?" He got up from his seat, padded through the kitchen, dining room, and living room to the entryway, where he clicked open his briefcase and took out a cellophane-wrapped cigar.

Back at the breakfast table, he unwrapped it, and drew it under his nose, inhaling deeply. "What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf."

"Give me a match, will you? They gave me this today."

"Who's the new daddy?" She handed him a box of kitchen matches.

"No, it was a gift." He struck a match and puffed.

"Well, that's nice."

He blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling and drank off the top of his beer. "I got canned."

"Wha-a-at?" Carol turned away from her mixing bowl and came to the table.

"Yep."

"Donald!"

"They gave me a good severance package."

"But what happened?"

"Well, I told you they were consolidating the department."

"Yes, but--"

"Then I guess they did some research, crunched some numbers, and they're restructuring the whole thing, so now they're eliminating all the regional departments, and National will take care of everything."

"The national office?"

Donald took a long drink from his stein. "Honey, could you get me an ashtray?"

"But did you tell them--I mean, did you say we could go to National? Because, you know, if they're going to just let you go like that, they're crazy. You're the best guy they've got. And I could go to Dayton. I'd go. I hear it's quite lovely in the spring. The transition would be tough on the kids, but they'd be all right. They'd rally. That's the great thing about kids--they can pretty much take everything in stride. And the change would be good for us, too. You know, we always said we wanted to see the world."

"Carol, I need an ashtray, or I'm going to get ash on the table."

She turned the tap on forcefully, and scrubbed her hands. "I just hope you didn't sell yourself short, Donald. I hope you didn't take it lying down." She stood on her tiptoes to reach into the cupboard above the sink, and took out a lime-green amoebic ashtray, which she slid across the table at him. "I hope you stood up for yourself. I hope you said, 'If National's going to take on the whole job, you're going to need a good man there. I'm your guy.' I hope you said that, Donald. Did you say that?"

"No." He tapped the ash off his cigar. "They outlined my severance package, said the end of the month is my last day, and I said, 'Okay.'"

Carol took the meat out of the mixing bowl, and dumped it into a glass baking dish. She slapped it into a rounded loaf-shape. "Well, I don't know what we're going to tell the kids," she said.

"Right now we're not going to tell them anything. Can I have another beer?"

"My hands are messy. You'll have to get it yourself."

He got up, opened the fridge, and took out a beer. She was still shaping the meatloaf, jabbing at it with her fingers. He stood behind her. "Hey. Honey. Carol. It's going to be okay."

"I don't see how it's going to be okay," her voice wavered.

"C'mere."

She turned and laid her face against his chest, her arms out to the side like wings, and he hugged her with his free arm, holding his beer above her head with the other. He kissed her hair. "We'll make it okay," he said. "I'll get another job. You'll see, it'll turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to us."

"That cigar stinks," she said, sniffing, after a moment.

"I'll take it into the living room, if you want."

"We have a while before dinner yet. I have to peel the potatoes."

"We'll talk about this some more later, okay?"

They pulled apart, and she nodded, and wiped her eyes on the inside of her elbow.

"I'm going to finish my cigar in the living room."

"All right."

"And let's hold off on telling the kids."

"Okay."

"Don't worry."

"Okay."

The cigar was finished, and Donald was drinking the last of his beer, when Lee and Janey came in through the sliding-glass door, and pushed each other into the kitchen.

"Out, out, out of my way! This pot is heavy and full of boiling water!"

"Mom?"

"Go say hello to your father and wash your hands."

"Mom?"

"Go on, you two. I need you out of my hair while I finish the potatoes."

"Mom?"

"And then, Janey, I need you to set the table."

"Mom?"

"What?"

"What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf. Go say hello to your father."

"Why do I have to set the table?"

"Meatloaf?"

"Because I asked you to. Lee, I thought you liked meatloaf."

"No you didn't."

"I used to like it, but I don't anymore."

"And why not? Janey, I did so ask you. I asked you just a minute ago."

"No you didn't. You told me to. Telling is different than asking."

"I dunno why I don't like it anymore. I guess it's just too...loafy."

"Okay, you two. Be quiet for a minute and listen to me: I'm telling you to go greet your father, and wash your hands. Right now. I'm not kidding around. Go on, before mother loses her equanimity."

"Jeez!" Janey said.

"And Lee!" Carol called after them, "Change into a clean shirt!"

Donald put down the magazine he was skimming when his kids came into the living room.

"Hiya, Pop."

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Are you two giving your mother grief?"

"No," they said.

"I hope not. You know what happens to kids who give their mothers a hard time..."

"What?"

"They get sent to Africa to work in the diamond mines."

"Oh, Daddy, that's silly!"

"If I went to Africa, I'd get a big diamond and keep it for myself."

"No, you wouldn't be allowed to, son."

"Well, I would anyhow. They couldn't stop me."

"Then you'd get fired."

"Well, I wouldn't even care, because I'd have a big ol' diamond all for myself."

"Anyhow, that's just silly. Daddy's being silly because we would never be sent to the diamond mines."

"Aw, Janey's right." He reached out to tickle her ribs. "There's no fooling you, is there?"

"No, no, you can't fool me!" she giggled.

He patted her butt and gave her a gentle push, "Now, go wash up for dinner, you two. Something is starting to smell like dinner."

Donald sat down at the head of the table. The light was falling outside, and he could see himself reflected in the sliding-glass doors. Not bad looking, in the prime of life. His loving wife was transferring the meatloaf, potatoes, peas, and gravy into serving dishes in the kitchen. "Lee, dinner!" she called. "Just a minute!" His son and heir was loitering in his room. "Now, Lee!" he said. His lovely daughter was tucking paper napkins under the sides of the plates. "Spoons on the left," Carol said, setting the meatloaf on the table. "It doesn't really matter," Janey said. He had a beautiful home. Carol brought in the peas and the potatoes. "C'mon, Lee!" she said. Three quarters of an acre in a nice neighborhood near good schools and a modern shopping center, all the conveniences. Lee came in and took his seat on his father's right side. Carol set down the gravy. "Honey, you didn't change your shirt like I asked you!" "I forgot." "Well, it's too late now. Janey, water glasses!" "Sit down, Carol, take a load off," Donald said. "I need to get serving utensils." "Let Janey do it." "But Daddy, I'm already doing the water glasses!" "I'll do it. It'll only take me a minute. She's doing the water glasses." He had money in the bank, some solid investments, and his whole life ahead of him. "Son, don't poke at the meatloaf."

"Sorry."

"Just keep your hands in your lap until your mother and sister sit down and we're ready to eat, okay?"

"Okay."

Carol sat at the foot of the table, and Janey on Donald's left. He stood up to carve.

"Boy, I tell you guys, this is one heck of a good-looking dinner. I hope you kids know how lucky you are to have a mom like your mom. Lee, give me your plate."

"I don't want any."

"What are you talking about? Hand your plate over, buddy."

"I don't like meatloaf."

"Don't insult your mother. Give me your plate."

"He says he doesn't like meatloaf any more. He can just have po--"

"I like meatloaf, Daddy."

"Well, that's baloney. I don't work all day to have good food go to waste. Your mother doesn't slave over the stove to have you turn up your nose. Give me your plate, Lee. Now."

"I like meatloaf, Daddy!"

"I know you do, honey, I heard you the first time. There you go, son, I gave you a small piece, see? We'll compromise, okay. Hey, buck up, kiddo. Don't be a baby."

"Donald! Is that necessary?"

"Plate, Janey. It's okay, Carol. A man has to learn to be tough. That's all. Better I should say it than the bullies on the playground. Isn't that right, son? When life disappoints you, you can't sit around blubbering. Lee's a man, aren't you, son? (There you are, princess.) Let me have your plate, Carol. Lee, start passing around those potatoes."

"There's no need to call him a baby at the dinner table."

"I didn't call him a baby. I told him not to be one."

"Fine. Who needs gravy? Lee?"

"I do, mama."

"Let your brother have it first. Pass the peas, please."

"How come he gets the gravy first?"

"Because you don't even have your potatoes yet, and he was ready."

"It's not fair."

"Sometimes life's not fair, princess."

"But Daddy--"

"That's enough, Janey. Don't argue. You'll get the gravy when Lee's done with it. What did you kids learn in school today?...Lee?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I don't believe that."

"You must've learned something, son. What did you do all day?"

"Played kickball."

"We learned about the age of exploration. They had to eat limes so their teeth wouldn't fall out."

"That's right. It's important to get enough vitamins and minerals. That's why we always have vegetables at dinner."

"But how come we don't eat limes?"

"We don't need to. We eat vegetables instead. I think they had limes because they were easy to store on their ships. You'll have to ask your teacher."

"Limes are too sour."

"You're right, Lee. Limes are very sour."

"Unless you mix 'em up with sugar."

"That's true. Like key lime pie."

"Oh, but you know what?"

"What?"

"Sharon's mom and dad are getting a divorce!"

"Oh, gee, what a shame! But Janey, honey, it's not nice to gossip."

"I know, but Sharon told Katie and I. Her dad has to live at a hotel!"

"'Katie and me.'"

"What?"

"'Sharon told Katie and me.'"

"My teacher says 'and I.'"

"That's when you are the subject. When you are the object, then it's 'me.' Who did Sharon tell? Sharon told me."

"But it was me and Katie."

"Right."

"Oh."

"Honey, pass the gravy."

"But he lives at a hotel!"

"Give the gravy to your father."

"I know, I'm getting it. But Sharon went there, and it was all messy. Like socks all over the floor and stuff."

"That's too bad. I should give Sharon's mother a call."

"If I lived at a hotel, I would order room service all the time, and swim in the pool all day long."

"You'd turn into a prune."

"You'd get homesick for your mom's cooking in no time."

"Sharon said the hotel didn't even have a pool."

"I'd make sure to live at a hotel with a pool."

"What if you couldn't?"

"I would."

"What if none of the hotels had pools?"

"Then I wouldn't go there."

"What if you had to?"

"I wouldn't."

"But what if you had to, or else you couldn't live anywhere?"

"Then I wouldn't live anywhere."

"No, but, the rule is--"

"Okay, you two, that's enough. Let's hear about mom's day."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"But the rule is, you have to choose--"

"Janey! I said that was enough!"

"Well, let's see...what did I do today? Well, I went shopping. They rearranged the cracker section. Oh, and Janey, they didn't have the kind of pickles you like, but I got another kind to try that looks good. And, let's see... Oh, Lee, you'll never guess who I ran into! Mavis Gunderson!"

"Who's Mavis Gunderson?"

"Coach Gunderson's wife! She said Coach Gunderson was really impressed with you last year, and you should try out for the Junior Dolphins again this summer."

"How come I didn't get in, then?"

"Well, honey, I guess you weren't quite ready. I think you should go for it. You're a lot bigger and stronger this year than you were last year. I bet you'd make it this year."

"I don't want to be on the stupid swim team anyway."

"Well, we'll see."

"I don't."

"Let's just wait and see. Maybe by summertime you'll change your mind."

"No, I won't."

"Well, it sounds like great fun to me."

"Not me."

"Don't argue with your mother."

"I'm not arguing, I'm just saying it doesn't sound like fun to me."

"What did you do today, Daddy?"

"What's that, Janey?"

"What did you do today?"

"I went to work, of course. Same as every day."

Donald got into bed before his wife that night. She came in a few minutes later, rubbing cream into her neck. She opened the covers on her side, and plumped up her pillow. She got in and sighed.

"When are we going to tell the kids?"

"Hmm?"

"When are we going to tell the kids that you lost your job?"

"Oh, I don't know...boy, I'm tired. Great dinner tonight, hon."

"Well, I think they have a right to know, don't you?"

"I don't know about that. Why should they worry about things they can't do a damn thing about? I'll get a new job and tell 'em I got a new job."

"All I know is I remember when I was a kid--"

"Oh, honey, I'm so tired."

"Just, they never told us anything--"

"Please, Car. I'm really beat."

"--and the whispers and looks over our heads were much worse. That's all I want to say."

"Okay."

 

Donald spent his first jobless morning at the kitchen table in his pajamas, drinking coffee.

"Is Daddy sick?" Janey asked.

"No, he has a holiday from work. Don't forget to take your lunch."

"How come we have to go to school, then?" Lee asked.

"It's only a holiday for working people. Tie your shoelace, please."

"Did you know Sharon gets a cupcake in her lunch every day?

"Grown-ups get all the holidays! It's not fair!"

"You kids better get going, or you'll be late."

"Did you hear me about Sharon?"

"Yes, honey, that's very nice. Now, go on."

"Jeez, if I had a holiday, I wouldn't spend all day drinking coffee, boy--"

"Go on. Time to leave!"

"Well, I don't think it's fair that Sharon gets cupcakes every day, and I don't!"

"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye my darling children! Have a lovely day at school! Remember to look both ways when you cross the street." Carol pushed her kids gently out the door, and waved to them through the glass.

She poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat at the table with her husband.

"Is it like that every morning?"

"I thought they were quite well-behaved this morning."

"Boy, oh boy."

"Oh, yes, you don't know what you've missed, leaving the house these mornings while they are still sleepily eating their breakfasts and waking up. The little darlings."

"I guess not."

"And so, what are your plans for the day?"

"That's a good question."

"Are you going to start looking for a job?"

"Well, I thought I might take a minute to breathe. I mean, of course, I am going to look for a job--I have some good contacts in the field, you know, so it really shouldn't be a problem. I've put out some feelers already. I mentioned to some people that I was looking. I'm really not at all worried. It's just a matter of making some calls. But I thought I would just take a moment here to catch my breath. A couple days at the most. You know. They gave me a good severance package. I'm not worried at all."

"I guess that's reasonable. So what will you do?"

"Oh. Well...relax."

Carol got up from the table to wash the breakfast dishes. As the sink filled with water, she said, "In that case, maybe you could help out with some things around the house."

"Help around the house?"

"Yeah. If you're not doing anything else."

"Well, sure. Heck...sure."

"I'll make you up a list. The gutters need doing. And the grill--we won't be grilling for a while, you could clean the grill."

"Sure, honey."

She turned off the tap, and came to the table.

"You could start by putting some clothes on."

He looked down at himself and smoothed his hands over his pajama shirt.

"Willikers! You're right. I'm so used to wearing what I'm going to wear by this time, I plain old didn't notice! Why, usually at this time..." he checked his wrist, but his watch was still on the bureau in their bedroom, so he looked up at the kitchen clock, "right about now I'd be getting my messages from Flo."

He stood up from the table and started for the bedroom.

"See, it's a good idea for me to take a little breather, get my head together before I go out for a new job. I'm all muddled. A good idea, just a couple of days."

He wandered out, while Carol poured the bacon grease off into a can. He wandered back in a little while later, dressed in jeans and an undershirt.

"Honey, have you seen my cowboy hat?"

"Your cowboy hat?" she turned around. "Are you going to put a shirt on? Your fly's undone."

"The cowboy hat I got in Texas when I went for the conference last year? The Stetson." He buttoned his fly.

"What do you need your cowboy hat for?"

"I was looking for it. I thought I might wear it. Around the house. That's a good hat, you know."

"I never think of you as a cowboy hat kind of person."

"The last place I remember putting it was on the shelf in the closet, and then I don't know where it went. I didn't see it."

"I cleared the shelf for sweaters last spring."

"So, where's my hat?"

"Well...it's either in the attic with the things we don't wear but which may come in handy some other time, or I may have taken it to the charity shop."

"The charity shop? My Stetson?"

"Donald, I'm not sure. I may have, but check in the attic. Put a shirt on, it's dusty up there."

He came back to the kitchen twenty minutes later, holding the hat tenderly in his hands.

"I can't believe you would have taken my Stetson to the charity shop." He tried to brush a cobweb away, but it only became embedded in the felt.

"Well, I didn't, did I?"

"But you might have. A genuine Stetson! It wasn't cheap, you know."

"And when was the last time you wore it?"

"I'm going to wear it right now, if I can find something to get this dust off. Do you have some kind of brush?"

"In a minute, I'll look. Let me finish this. Could you help me, and wipe down the table?"

"Okey-dokey." He put the hat on his head and reached for the dish sponge.

"No, not with that! Hold on--"

"Oh." He picked up a damp dishrag off the counter and began rubbing it in circles over the table.

"Donald! I just used that to clean the stovetop! You're getting grease all over the table!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Why don't you--could you--did you finish the paper yet? Why don't you go read the paper and I'll finish up in here. Could you just...go somewhere--I'll finish in here and write you up a list. And get you a brush. Then, I think I better go to the store."

"I'm sorry!"

"It's all right. Just--I'll be done in a minute."

Donald left the kitchen, and Carol finished cleaning. Then, she sat and wrote a list of chores for him and a list of groceries for herself. She took the list into the living room. Then the bedroom. And back to the hallway, where the stairs to the attic were still pulled down out of the ceiling.

"Donald?"

"Yup, I'm up here."

She heard the gritty sound of cardboard boxes being shifted on the attic floor, and then his footsteps. "You'll never guess what I found up here!"

"I hope you're not moving everything around. Everything's organized."

He came down the stairs. "Look! My old football sweater!"

"I put it away for Lee when he gets big enough. I do wish you wouldn't move everything around."

"I forgot all about this old thing! I wonder if it still fits." He touched the letters sewed to the front, then lifted the sweater to his nose and sniffed. Carol took a deep breath, too, and exhaled sharply.

"Well, listen. I'm going to go to the store now. I've made you a list of chores," she handed it to him, "Maybe you can get started."

 

When she returned from the store, she found Donald seated in his lounger, wearing the football sweater, which was a little snug on him. The Stetson was on his head, and he was reading a Zane Gray novel.

"You're home!"

"Can you help me get the bags from the car?"

"Let me put on some shoes."

He was gathering up bags when she came outside to get a second load.

"I guess you didn't get started, then."

"On the chores? No. I found this old book--honey, can you remember the last time I had a chance to read a book? Anyhow, there's plenty of time. I can get started after lunch. Say, what's for lunch?"

"Tuna."

 

The following afternoon, after lunch, Donald went out to the backyard to rake up the leaves. Carol had asked him to at least let her take his football sweater to be cleaned, but he insisted on wearing it. The Stetson as well.

He started at the bottom of the yard, batting leaves away from the fences, and out from under the bushes, gathering them into a sausage-shaped bundle, which he herded up the incline toward the house.

When Carol looked up from the sink, where she was soaking the labels off some jars, she saw her husband astride the rake, trotting in circles around the ornamental maple. He shifted into a smooth canter, which took him from one side of the yard to the other.

He cantered up close to the house, just beyond the patio. He glanced from the trail, and saw Carol watching him, and the rake jigged and reared. He struggled to get it back under control, and she could see his mouth, saying, "Whoa, whoa."

He took one hand from his steed to wave, and laughing, she waved back, and followed him as he kicked up into a canter again, circled, and moved out from the backyard to the side yard. He jogged in place there, under the kitchen window, and waved his hat over his head. Then he galloped off in the direction of the road.

______________

 

ROSE GOWEN was born in Berkeley, and used to be a horse girl. Her story "The Poet" appeared in the first issue of The God Particle. "A Swell Life at Sea" is an excerpt from a longer work.