They look from the steps down the block.
“Did you bring Gran?”
June says Gran because that’s the main character.
They are reading The Lifters by Dave Eggers. They both love it.
“I didn’t. I thought the bus would come right away. I didn’t go to the bathroom either. I might pee my pants.”
June throws her head back and shows her teeth. McCormick thinks camp teaches her that laugh. Money well spent.
“Are you rooting for me?”
“Well, you are my lovey Daddy, but if you did pee your pants, that would be a great story…”
Maybe he’ll have to call Bruce Blend, the expensive mindfulness provider uptown. Blend helped with the environmental stuff two years ago. Now if the neighbors are loud McCormick doesn’t fear home invasion. If the heater goes out he knows Julie and June can snuggle under a blanket. No one’s freezing to death on his watch, but other perils have risen.
Will Bruce know their chances of having to flee an inbound missile? Will he downplay the harm of a race-baiting president? Does he know if there will be fish in June’s ocean? Guns in her streets? If she will hope?
June is impatient to add the oats. Keeps lifting her cup to the hot pan.
No. Let the milk bubble.
Then she wants to stir, moves her stool too close. McCormick endures the risk.
When the goop is in the bowl she arranges apple slices just like the picture on the box, but adds a few raspberries. Then declines sugar or honey.
Doing it herself is sweet enough.
At school he unsticks a zipper, puts wet boots away. She doesn’t turn her head or say a word. Just a backwards wave.
Always, there will be these leavings.
If I could find a place in your building? Me, you, and Miller? The same block? Like, insane.
You know Palmer Kasay? Captain of the Middlebury tennis team? Totally filthy tennis player. Great great guy.
Great guy. How do you say his name?
Kuh-sigh. Also Wink Edmonds is a great great guy.
Hey thank your parents for that Christmas party.
Ok, next year I’m going to do Facebook invite. Only include, like, 50 people.
Totally. I’ll send you the group text for Aspen? Airbnb?
Aspen. Much appreciated.
As long as you can put money in?
In bed that night, McCormick, nerves blazing, objects to tomorrow’s plans.
“The ferry to Jersey City? Why do you need your files? Then the subway uptown and back? You can’t put color in your hair anyway. And dinner with Alison? Julie, Jesus! After what we just went through?”
She uses the patient-but-not-really voice that will not be retired just because she’s so wrong this time.
“It was Braxton Hicks, Michael. Spotting is normal. They have chemical-free dye. This isn’t a health crisis. Women have babies every day.”
“Well, you might have one tomorrow. On a boat in the Hudson River.”
Barbara is a faithful reader, but the Winter series tests her limits.
“It’s too real. I just keep screaming, let it go!” She texts him one day.
And the next: “Please bring back Julie and June.”
He still hasn’t written about closing night, though. When he sneaks backstage and watches Winter and The King. Ted Jackson’s oily pecs have made McCormick a madman for six nights running. They hold hands and lock eyes as the final ovation rains down.
He stops typing. His wife and daughter have little colds. He hears them sniffling in their beds. Ok, maybe that’s enough.
With six weeks to go before Winter will allow him near her, McCormick joins a road trip to Butte for a big basketball game.
The Hawks win. The party is fun. McCormick ends up sharing a Motel 6 bed with Vanessa Vinton, who he didn’t kiss (because of Winter or a different fear?) that day last summer when she came over and cut his hair in the backyard.
Six other kids sleep next to them, on the floor and the next bed, and Vanessa just had chicken pox. She whispers about her scabs when he moves closer in the night.