The Frontier
Janet sits amidst the clutter of half-empty moving boxes spread across the kitchen floor, their contents piled on the counter, and on the island, and on the small table where they eat breakfast in the nook. Derek cringes at the total chaos, but especially at the site of his wife who seems so content, like a pig wallowing in mud. She had to have a nook. The kitchen had to have an island. Ten foot ceilings were the minimum. She needed all these things, and more, because, in her words, "it would be easier to keep the house clean with a more ergonomic and efficient floorplan." In two months, Derek was yet to see her clean anything.
They have been there since May, in their newly-built house in the Beechnut Estates subdivision. Janet, when asked, points out that theirs was the first house in the last phase of the subdivision. Derek makes a point of correcting her: "It's the only house." A week after they closed and the day before they moved in, the builder, Ben Maurer, declared bankruptcy and escaped to Wisconsin, leaving behind three excavated sites, one cement foundation, and two partially framed houses. "At least we have our house completed," Janet said. "And a dirt road and no driveway," Derek replied.
Looking at his wife, at how she marveled at the bizarre contents of a box which had been packed and sealed even before they were married, Derek is struck with the recognition of a thought just beyond the horizon of consciousness. It is not an evil thought, nor is it frightening; it is merely something that he must do at some point. That is all that he understands about the vague thought. The frustration of seeing Janet sort through skeins of yarn and the pattern of what would have been an afghan scatters the fragmentary sensations in his mind, leaving only the frustration. The chaos.
"Would you please throw that crap away," he says.
"I will not." Janet doesn't even bother to look at him and Derek knows it is because she knows she will be offended at his expression. "This is perfectly good and I will finish it one day."
"Where are the kids?" he asks.
"Playing out back."
Derek kicks aside a box and stands at the back door. Kyle and Sandra play on the cement pad beyond the deck in the plastic pool which is empty. "Did you remind them to stay away from the poison ivy?"
"Would you hold this?" Janet asks and offers a ball of yarn, hopelessly ensnared in itself.
"Why can't you just answer me? It's important."
"I did tell them. Don't get upset."
He refuses to touch the yarn, and goes upstairs to change.
Derek and Janet have been married for five years. There are two children: Kyle, who is four; and Sandra, who is two. Their previous house was two miles away, set back three hundred feet from County Highway M, a two lane affair whose fifty mile an hour speed limit was completely ignored. That house was small but they had learned to live within the house's limitations, the small rooms, the small closets, the one and a half baths, and Derek was satisfied. Janet, however, claimed she was never satisfied with it.
Janet wanted a master suite with a garden tub in the bathroom and his and her walk-in closets. Janet wanted formal living and dining rooms, as well as an open, two-story entrance with a huge window out front so that the neighbors could see their chandelier. She wanted a chandelier. She also wanted a second-story laundry, a mud room to hide coats and boots in winter, and a massive pantry close to the kitchen.
Derek resisted these pleas, formulated during their first two years of wedded bliss. When Kyle was born, the pleas were delivered with a tone of frustration; Janet found it difficult to keep track of the baby's things in the small bedroom that was now the nursery; Janet found it difficult to vacuum because of the toys scattered about; Janet found it especially difficult to provide proper care for the baby when she had to do laundry in the basement.
With a second baby, the frustration was replaced by a sense of urgency. A boy and a girl could not sleep in the same room forever, and Kyle would need playmates soon. Moving to a subdivision would satisfy all of their needs, and put them closer to the schools, as well.
Derek came home one day to find a man talking with great familiarity to Janet.
"He's a realtor," Janet explained after the men introduced themselves. "I think we should move."
"Did you invite him here?"
"I frequently solicit homes sales," the realtor, who was taller than Derek, said. "Your house is particularly attractive for couples whose children have left the nest, and want to live in the country without being very far from the city."
"That's why I like it," Derek said. "I don't like neighbors."
"I could very easily sell all the homes along M in less than a month."
"That's quite a lot of homes to sell," Janet said.
The realtor smiled at her. "I mean a month for each one."
"I knew that," Janet said, returning his smile. "I was kidding."
The realtor said, "One month is incredibly fast to sell a house. It can often take six months, and occasionally a year."
Derek waited until Janet looked at him. "Did you invite him here?"
"You can easily buy or build a much larger house on any setting you want, leveraging the equity in this home. That's how a great many of my clients build wealth, by frequently moving up in terms of their home. Within ten years you can be in a home worth half a million, based on current market conditions and interest rates, assuming there's at least seventy thousand dollars of equity in this home."
This caught Derek's attention. He had gotten four raises since moving into this house, and the mortgage was not a problem at all. Janet was blowing all their spare cash on crap for the kids anyway, so why not be house poor? There was also a chance that the farmer would sell the cornfield next to them to a developer, and then they would lose all the advantages of country living without the benefit of a sidewalk. It was just a matter of time, really, before it happened, especially considering the pathetic crop that the farmer raised.
That same evening, the realtor took them to visit Phase IV of the Beechnut Estates subdivision, whose other three phases were nearly full. This last phase would offer larger lots, and close proximity to three schools.
"If we build here," Janet said, "the children could walk to school."
"As if you would let them," Derek said.
Phase IV consisted of brush and woods. It had been surveyed, however, and the realtor pointed out the flagged stakes. At one point, having walked as far as they dared while holding the children, they caught a glimpse of the elementary school's blue roof through the trees. "The cul-de-sac will be there, close to the school," the realtor said.
"I wouldn't mind living on a cul-de-sac," Derek said, thinking of the cars that raced past along M at eighty miles an hour.
"I wouldn't mind either."
She's cagey, he thought. Janet was playing it quiet, sensing his interest and letting it run its course, knowing she could ruin it by pushing.
"The cul-de-sac lots will go first," the realtor said. "They are choice. The fact that they back up to the schools will make them red-hot. I suspect they'll go the first month when the phase is officially opened."
Later that evening, when the kids were asleep and Janet was finally off the phone, having told everyone that they were building a new house, Derek remembered that she had never answered his question.
"Did you invite that realtor over here?" Derek asked.
Janet didn't answer. She was asleep on the bed cover, still in her street clothes, one hand on the phone, the other tucked under her cheek.
The lawyer seems very interested in the story of how they came to be the only house on a dirt road, but not so interested in Derek's desire to sue.
"Have you ever seen something like this?" Derek asks. "Is there hope?"
"Some," the lawyer says. "The township required the builder to post bond to complete the road surface, so, eventually, that will be done. You've got utilities. And your house is complete."
"There's nothing else we can do?"
"We can't sue him for not giving you neighbors."
"But it devalues the house."
"It's still zoned residential. It's not like a Wal-Mart is moving in."
Derek returns to work, disturbed about the house. He has explained the situation to the others at the office where he works as the manager of audits. The business is a semi-private agency that handles the life and worker's compensation insurance for the State.
It is a quiet time for Derek at the agency. Derek is not actively engaged in an audit, and has no boss at the moment because his former boss took a position at a commercial insurance firm. Derek is interested in being promoted into the void, but knows that the Chief Financial Officer has several candidates in mind already. Besides, the CFO, a real prick, requires ass-kissing yes men to work for him, and Derek probably would not last two months.
Joan, a divorcee and Financial Analyst from Investments, stops by to chat and see how things are, and, like the lawyer, is interested in the story of Derek's abandoned subdivision.
"So how long is the road?" Joan asks. "Your road, I mean."
"About a quarter mile."
"Just woods and a dirt road?"
"And those little utility boxes every other lot."
"It's kind of like you're a frontier outpost. Civilization in the forest."
"It feels like that. The children from the subdivision venture through the woods and stare at us from across the cul-de-sac. The dirt cul-de-sac I mean."
"Offer them a Popsicle. Make friends." Joan sighs, as if she is in need of a friend. She smiles at Derek.
Derek is not sure what to make of this. He thinks there might be something there, a hint at a forthcoming invitation to lunch, or maybe drinks after work. He would like that, he thinks, because Joan is good looking. This is a woman who has been divorced many years and perhaps would like the distraction of an affair, a brief affair, because she may not be interested in entanglements. She has a son who plays baseball and soccer. Perhaps she has given up finding a real boyfriend, and is now looking for someone who won't interfere with her schedule of after-school childcare, shared custody, and sports.
"It's not a bad setting," Derek says. "I'm just afraid of the property value."
"I wouldn't worry," Joan says. "Have a party. Revel in it."
"Maybe when there's a road. I don't want to subject guests to driving along a wooded trail."
Joan smiles, holding his gaze unabashedly.
Derek asks, "You want to go to lunch?"
Joan makes a frowny-face. "Can't today. I'm meeting someone. I'll take a rain check though."
Derek smiles. "Okay. I look forward to it."
# # # #
Janet calls to tell him there's a surprise waiting for him when he gets home. Derek thinks it'd be nice if she had the kids somewhere else, and was waiting for him naked. He works himself up during the drive home, imagining having sex like they haven't had since before the children, since before the sleep deprivation began and Janet's sex drive needed a new transmission. As it is, they haven't had sex since the night they closed on the house.
Instead the surprise is a dog. "I thought we needed a dog to make our home complete," Janet says. "The children love him."
The dog, a brown, short-haired mongrel wags his tail at the sight of Derek. Derek folds his arms and refuses to make eye contact so as not to encourage the beast's enthusiasm.
"What do we do with him?"
"We'll take him for walks. Teach him tricks. He's part of the family."
"So I'll feed him and clean up after him, is that it?"
The dog creeps closer to Derek, sniffing at his pants. Derek shoos the dog away with his foot.
"Why are you such a grouch?"
"Because you only seem capable of making things worse around here."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Look at all these boxes," Derek says, indicating the mess that seems to have spread like mushrooms on the forest floor. "When will they be unpacked? What did you do all day?"
"That's not fair," Janet says. "I have the children all day and there's no where to play outside yet. If we had a lawn and swing set, like you promised, it would be different. I could get some things done."
"How about dinner? Is anything ready?"
"I'll make something."
"You haven't made anything yet?"
"It'll only take a minute."
"Great," Derek says. "More stuff from the freezer. Whoever started packaging complete meals in a bag had you in mind."
This upsets Janet. "What do you want out of me. I'm doing my best."
Derek raises his voice to match hers, and says, "It's not good enough."
"Do you want to trade?" Janet says. "You stay home with the kids and I'll go to work?"
Derek sees his son, Kyle, in the family room, and that he has been listening to it all.
"Hello son."
"Dad?" Kyle asks. "Why do you hate Mommy?"
"I don't hate Mommy," Derek says. "I'm just a little crabby."
"Don't you like the dog? His name is Clifford, like the dog on TV."
"Isn't that something."
Derek looks down at the dog and notices a small puddle of yellow liquid.
"Oh Jesus," Janet says. "I guess he needs to go out."
"Too fucking late now," Derek says, so angry that he doesn't care if his son hears.
The dog, pleased to catch his new master's eye, wags his tail more fiercely while stepping in his own piss.
At eleven-thirty, Derek, having heard the Indians score on SportsCenter, switches off the television and heads upstairs. He finds Janet asleep in Kyle's bed and shakes her awake.
"Come to bed," Derek says. "I was hoping we could fool around."
Janet blinks at the light in the hall and clears her throat. "I'm so tired. I don't think I'd be very good."
"I promise not to criticize."
The dog, asleep on the floor, raises his head and thumps his tail against the floor.
"Have you walked Clifford?" Janet asks. "He could use a walk."
"Clifford could use a kick in the ass."
"Really dear," Janet says.
"You're serious? That's it? No fooling around but go walk the dog?"
"Tomorrow night I promise."
"I shall count the seconds."
Derek nudges Clifford with his foot, and they go downstairs.
Outside it is a cold, clear, star-filled night. They make their way up the dirt road enclosed by trees. The dog does his business, and Derek is quietly grateful. He continues up the road (no reason to hurry home) past the abandoned construction sites, and is startled by a movement in the trees. Clifford focuses his attention on the shadows. In the real subdivision there are street lights, but here they have only a half-moon.
There is a slight movement just beyond the tree line, and Derek's heart jumps at the thought of hoodlums from the subdivision waiting to ambush him. Perhaps he disturbed a party in the unfinished home, and now they would seek vengeance.
Clifford creeps forward, tugging at the leash, apparently ready for them. Derek thinks this is just fine, and lets go. The dog springs forward and charges into the shadows. There is a great noise of movement from the trees, and Derek sees the larger shapes move through the trees. They come out of the trees and for a moment Derek is frozen in fear as he must choose between flight and fight.
The dark shapes are upon him quickly, before he can move or raise an arm, and he finally recognizes them, four large deer, their tails upright behind them, as they gallop and bound past him. The last one passes within arm's reach. Derek flinches, then turns to watch as Clifford gives chase across the road and into the woods that lead to the school grounds.
Derek's heart pounds as it sinks in that the fourth was a buck, its new rack still growing. He runs through the woods after them, stopping at the top of the hill overlooking the school. He sees Clifford give chase across the school parking lot and into the darkness beyond.
Derek returns home alone. He notices that the front door is open slightly, just an inch. He had left for the walk through the garage, and immediately thinks again that it must be hoodlums from the subdivision that have entered the house while he was away. He sees that there is no damage to the door, and recalls that Janet had gone outside to water plants at ten p.m., and that she must have not locked it when she returned.
Derek quickly scans the first floor. The television and stereo are still there, no signs of burglary. He rushes upstairs to check on the family, pausing along the way to listen. He hears nothing. Kyle is asleep in his bed, undisturbed. Sandra, likewise, is asleep in her bed. Derek steps quickly down the hall and throws open his bedroom door, ready to pounce upon the hoodlums, but finds it quiet and dark inside.
The door bangs against the wall and Janet raises herself from the bed. "Derek?" she asks. "Is that you honey?"
"Yes." He is bringing himself down from the excitement. Why the hell did she leave that door open?
"Are you coming to bed?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"No. I'm going to sleep. I still have to wash up and put on my pajamas."
"Did you realize you left the front door open tonight? Not just unlocked, but open. A good breeze would have thrown it open to the world."
"Really? I don't remember." Janet gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom.
"That's dangerous. Can you please try to be more careful? You put the whole family at risk."
Janet splashes water in her face and brushes her teeth haphazardly. "Risk of what?"
"Intruders. We really need to lock the doors at night. Can you handle that?"
"Yes, I can handle that. I just forgot. Stop treating me like a child."
"Then act like an adult."
Janet gives him a dirty look as she strips off her clothes. Derek watches, somewhat moved by the exhibition. It reminds him of going to a titty-bar in that it won't matter if he sees something he likes because he can't have any.
Janet pulls on flannel pajamas and returns to bed. "How was the walk? How was Clifford? Was he a good boy?"
Derek sits on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and begins undressing. "Actually, there's good news and bad news."
Janet rolls on her side, facing the wall. "What's the good news?"
"We saw some deer, and actually chased them through the woods."
"Wow. Exciting. What's the bad news?"
A dog barks outside, and Derek recognizes Clifford's voice. "Never mind," Derek says.
# # # #
Derek has lunch with Joan the next day at Romano's. It was all his idea. He called her up, chose the time and the place, and then picked her up from her desk. It reminded him very much of dating and he liked the feeling. He held the doors for her on the way out of the building, and she smiled at him when he pulled out her chair at the restaurant.
"This is interesting," Joan says. "I've only known you as a pain in the ass auditor."
"That's what I'm supposed to be, right?"
"Yes, but you clean up pretty well."
"Thank you."
Derek was careful to keep the conversation on business topics, or at least about people at work. He figured they were already doing something intimate together by having lunch at the city's best restaurant, and that there was no need to rush things along.
He asked about her boss, and discovered that she, too, was without a boss.
"I'm really liking it," she said. "I haven't enjoyed my lunch hour this much in a long time."
"You mean because you actually take an hour?"
"Exactly," she said, and laughed.
"My group is boring, but that's okay because there haven't been any problems."
"You're too much of a boss," she said. "You need to have fun with it. Do you go out with your auditors?"
"No."
"It's probably for the best. It probably wouldn't be very much fun."
"That hurts."
"I'll make it up to you," Joan says. She flashes him a smile. "Come out with my group tomorrow night. We're going to happy hour at Leo's."
"Isn't that kind of a rough bar?"
"It's a fun bar. And we leave before the rough crowd settles in." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Don't you want to go have some fun with me?"
"Oh yes," Derek says. "Yes I do."
Derek drives home thinking of Joan, rather than Janet. He parks on his dirt road and walks up the wooden walkway installed by the construction crew and left there until the driveway is poured. He decides to not think of Joan anymore because it would only torture him and spoil his evening.
Inside, Janet is reading the paper and drinking coffee. "I have a terrible headache," she says.
Derek notices that there has been progress on the boxes in the kitchen, and most of the clutter from the counters and island is gone. "Where are the kids?"
"Out back, gathering straw."
Derek looks and sees that, indeed, they are picking straw from the newly sprouted grass. At the other side of the back lawn, where the construction crew mistakenly left a few trees standing, Clifford's leash is tightly wound around the base of a tree, and he lies there watching the children.
"I see my dog is well cared for," Derek says.
"He's fine," Janet says. She turns the page and straightens the paper. "I guess I should see about dinner."
"I guess," Derek says.
As he makes his way through the dining room to go upstairs, he notices a pearl Cadillac Seville coupe pull up behind his own car. A black man gets out of the car and makes his way up the wooden walkway.
Derek opens the door and steps outside. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Howard Patterson. I am pleased to meet you." The man extends his hand and Derek shakes it.
Derek is struck by the size of Howard's hand, which is large, and that Howard is at least three inches taller than Derek. "Pleased to meet you," Derek says, though, in fact, he is not pleased. "I'm Derek Moates."
Janet comes to the door and also shakes Howard's hand. "I'm Janet," she says.
Howard says, "I'm the President of the Home-Owners Association here, and I want to tell you a few things about the subdivision."
"Then you should come in and have some coffee," Janet says. "Won't you?"
"If I'm not interrupting your dinner," Howard says.
"No chance of that," Derek says. However, he is thinking that Howard could have said what he came to say from the front walk and then left them alone.
Janet leads them to the kitchen nook. "Please excuse the mess," Janet says. "I'm still unpacking."
"And you must forgive me," Howard says. "I didn't realize you'd moved in. Without a road, none of the walkers have been back here very much, and the walkers are my eyes and ears, checking out what people are doing."
Janet quickly clears the kitchen table, dumping things back into a box, and dragging the box into the large closet near the door to the garage. Derek and Howard sit as Janet starts coffee.
"Do you golf?" Howard asks.
"Occasionally," Derek says.
"I don't myself, but some of the men go out each weekend, Saturday mornings, I believe. I can put you in contact with them."
"That sounds nice," Janet says.
"No thanks."
"There will be a block party the last weekend of August, near where I live, on Beechnut."
"Did you say 'black party?'" Janet asks.
"No," Howard says. "Block party. We have black parties, but you wouldn't be invited. That's a joke."
"Very funny," Derek says.
The children come into the kitchen and hug their father. "Go play," he says. "Daddy is talking."
"Can we watch TV?" Kyle asks.
"Yes, upstairs."
Sandra looks at Howard and shies away. "Your skin is dark."
"That's because he's black," Kyle says.
"Cute kids," Howard says.
Janet herds them towards the family room, and then the TV is on and they listen to a Cow and Chicken cartoon there in the kitchen.
"Is there much crime?" Derek asks.
"There've been some cars broken into. We have a neighborhood watch program. If I could have your phone number, I'll put you on the call list."
Derek writes it down for him and hands him the slip of paper.
"So are you looking forward to having neighbors?" Howard asks.
"No," Derek replies. "Not really."
# # # #
Derek had trouble staying at his desk the next day. His mind was focused on going out with Joan, and he imagined a number of scenarios for the evening, most of which resulted in having sex with Joan.
The trick would be transitioning from a group date to one-on-one. No, the trick would be keeping Joan's attention with so many distractions. No, the trick would be keeping Joan's attention without drawing an inordinate amount of attention to himself. Still, if he did it right, he might end up having sex with Joan later on. At least he might get a blow-job out of the deal.
He decided that he should play it cool, go with the flow of conversation, but focus on staying physically close to Joan. Being next to her would have the dual advantages of occasional contact, literally rubbing elbows, while not having to look at each other, which requires masking the emotions.
Derek was drawn to Joan's department, down the hall and past the elevators, but aborted his approach twice, ducking into the break room for unwanted coffee. Derek did not want to seem overly anxious; however, he did want Joan to know that he was looking forward to the evening.
Derek called Joan. "I never asked where we were going," he said.
"Meet me outside," Joan whispered.
"By the smokers?"
"No. Parking lot side of the building. Take the stairs."
Derek scrambled down the steps. He was reminded of high school when he and the other hormone-crazed boys would leap down entire flights of stairs, crashing hard on the tile floor and laughing at the pain.
He paused at the bottom, seven flights later, to catch his breath. He stepped outside and walked to where he had a view of the parking lot, and found Joan leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoked," Derek said.
"I don't. I just keep these around in case I need to get away from the office."
"I want you to know that I'm really looking forward to this evening."
"Me too."
"So, where are we going?"
"Nero's East."
"And how many people will be there from the group?"
"Just you and me."
"I thought we were going out with your department."
"They're going to Leo's. But if we go out with them, we won't have a chance to talk."
"Oh. I see."
"Is that all right?"
"That's fine."
"Are you still looking forward to this evening?"
"I am really, really, really looking forward to this evening."
# # # #
Derek found it impossible to think of anything except Joan. Joan smiling. Joan laughing. Joan undressing. Joan in her underwear laughing and smiling. Joan naked.
As it approached five p.m., however, he decided that he must call his wife and explain why he wouldn't be home for dinner. This was his first foray into infidelity. It raised tremendous questions about morality, commitment, truth, and love. It raised questions about family. But Derek didn't want to consider them. Besides, there was no guarantee that anything would happen other than going somewhere with a woman and having a couple of drinks and some conversation. That's all.
Derek recalled his father's words to him on the night Derek graduated from high school. They were sitting next to the garage, a cooler of Stroh's between them. It was dark. The night had grown cold and quiet, but they had remained there while his father told stories from his time in Korea and stories about his own father.
His father said, "You're going to start making choices soon. Important ones. When I married your mother, I hadn't slept with her yet. She wouldn't allow any of that. Then, once you do marry someone, you're not supposed to mess around anymore. You're supposed to defend the family. I did my best, and so here you are. Marriage presents you with morality issues. It's a choice you have to make. I don't know the right answer."
Derek viewed most of that conversation as inspired by beer. Now, when considered in light of his own circumstances, he realizes that it could have been the ramblings of a mind faced with choices. Perhaps his father had wanted to be, or actually had been, unfaithful. And perhaps Derek would ramble himself one day, in about fourteen years, on Kyle's graduation night, while working their way through a cooler of beer.
So what is the problem, Derek wonders? His wife has shown little interest in him during the past two years, and nothing the last two months. Certainly a jury of his peers, that is, men, will not condemn him for stepping out. A man has to take care of certain things, just as all men have been doing since the emergence of the species. Feelings like his, the throbbing desire that blurred his vision and made him tremble, are the results of one-hundred thousand years of genetics. What he wants to do comes from deep in his history. He is descended from men who looked like him, felt like him, and thought like him. All of those ancestors must have had feelings, urges, and desires like his; and yet, here he is, proof of those feelings and how they had acted on them. How can there be anything wrong with feelings like that?
Derek will call Janet and tell her that he's going out for a drink with someone at work, and that he'll be late for dinner. Don't offer any more than that, he tells himself. But the phone rings as he reaches for it, and it's Janet calling.
"I was about to call you, dear," he says.
"You have to come home right away," she says. "I need to go see a doctor."
"What's wrong?"
"Poison Ivy all over my arms, legs, neck and face. I have welts everywhere. It's driving me crazy."
"I thought you knew to stay away from it," Derek says.
"I did know," Janet says. "I think the dog must have gotten in there. I had him in my lap early this morning. He got it all over me."
"Can't you just wash it off or put some of that pink stuff on it. What's a doctor going to do?"
"A doctor can give me a steroid shot and some pills. Get home right away, please. I'm going crazy."
"Can't you just take the kids with you?"
"No. I don't want to touch them. I can't deal with anything right now. All right?"
"Yes. Fine. All right."
Derek is in no mood to deal with the children either, so he tunes the television to Cartoon Network and reads the paper while they watch. Derek's thoughts keep returning to the look on Joan's face, sincere disappointment, when he explained the situation. "Next week," she said. He knew she meant it.
The children, however, do not leave him to his thoughts. "I'm hungry," Kyle says.
"Me too," Sandra says.
"Can we have chips?"
"Cheetos."
"No," Derek says. "Dinner first."
"What's for dinner?"
"I don't know."
"I want Cheetos," Sandra says, and begins to cry.
"I'll make hot dogs," Derek says. "You want a hot dog?"
"Yes," Kyle says.
"No," Sandra says.
"Well what do you want?"
"Spaghetti-O's."
"Fine. I'll make it. Now please go watch television until it's ready."
"Why does she get Spaghetti-O's and I have to eat a hot dog?"
"I thought you wanted a hot dog."
Kyle's face twists as tears well-up in his eyes. "I didn't say I wanted a hot dog."
"Don't cry," Derek says. "If you throw a tantrum you're going to your room."
"I can't help crying."
"Fine. Just don't throw a tantrum. Now tell me what you want to eat."
Kyle tries to regain his composure, and is no longer close to hyperventilating, but tears continue to pour from his eyes. He takes a few breaths and says, "Spaghetti-O's."
"Fine. Let me make them, okay?"
"Okay."
Derek wonders why men, when they divorce their wives, try to get custody of their children. Derek is not so sure that he would, although he wouldn't tell Janet that until all the negotiations were complete.
Derek, who gets home most evenings around six p.m., sees his children for maybe an hour. Frequently, it is shared television time (when Derek tries to read something, anything, while the children watch cartoons). Derek then helps with the baths and bedtime, but that consists of cajoling and intimidating the children in and out of the tub, and then into their pajamas and bed. He doesn't consider any of it quality time.
Derek golfs and works around the house on Saturdays, so he really doesn't see much of the children. On Sunday there is the built-in chaos of getting ready for church, and then going to a restaurant afterwards, something Janet considers her entitlement for staying home. It is nearly two when they arrive home, and Derek watches golf while the children nap. Then the evening routine of television, supper, baths, and bedtime begins.
Now, on top of all that, they have the burden of establishing their new home. Janet has a list of chores for Derek a mile long, and he could spend every waking minute hanging curtains and pictures, or installing shelves and towel racks, for six months, and never see the children. The bottom of every closet is lined with boxes packed with who knows what, and the basement looks like Gypsies moved in. What it means to Derek is that there are at least one thousand more hours of chores waiting for him, and the only way he'll enjoy those hours is if the children stay quiet and don't bother him. So what would it matter, should he and Janet divorce, if he only saw the children every other weekend? Would it really matter?
After dinner, Derek settles the children on the sofa with large sipper-cups filled with warm chocolate milk, and waits patiently as they choose a movie to watch. Kyle would like to see Space Jam, but Sandra is dead set on The Aristocats. Derek, whose patience lasts no longer than a two-year-old's attention, must intervene and promise Kyle that he can watch Space Jam first thing in the morning.
Derek straightens out the kitchen but doesn't pick up the clutter, which is surprisingly a lot from two small children who watch television. Afterwards, Derek sits down with the paper and sees that, in the movie, the dedicated mouse is trying to convince the alley cats to save Duchess and the kittens, and Derek knows it will be over soon.
Derek wonders what is keeping Janet. A couple of tragedies flash through his mind: a messy car accident, or an abduction that results in a brutal rape and murder. Either way, it would obviate a divorce. But the children would miss her. Then Derek recalls that Target is open until 10 p.m., and knows she must be there, spending money that they don't have now that they're house poor.
Derek carries both children upstairs after the movie. The dog, whom Derek had forgotten about, follows him upstairs. "Don't do anything stupid," Derek says.
"What's 'stupid?'" Sandra asks.
"It means you're dumb," Kyle says.
"What's 'dumb?'"
"I was talking to the dog," Derek says, anticipating a tantrum at the worst moment. "You kids are not stupid."
Derek decides to skip baths, and dresses the children for bed. He puts them both in Kyle's twin bed and accepts requests for bedtime stories. Sandra wants something from the Little Critter series, and Kyle would like to hear an excerpt from the thick tome on dinosaurs that Janet bought at a garage sale and that Derek hates because it has no story, only long descriptions of dinosaurs with scientific names.
"But I want that," Kyle insists.
"Pick another," Derek says.
"No. You're mean."
"Sometimes Daddies are mean."
Kyle refuses to choose another story so Derek reads to Sandra. By the end of the story, Kyle has softened his stance and requests to just look at some of the pictures in the dinosaur book. Derek agrees, handing the thick volume directly to Kyle.
Clifford, whom Derek has kept close to him on a leash, seems unable to wait any longer, reminding Derek of how foolish it was to add a dog to the family. But what is family? Nowadays, Derek thinks, it can mean any damn thing you want. If you had the balls to explain the situation, people accepted it without blinking.
"Would you guys mind if I didn't live here?" Derek asks, wondering what the children think of family.
"What?" Kyle asks, looking up from the book. Sandra mimics his expression, and looks at Derek as well.
Derek knows it is not a fair question for their young minds, but he rather likes the idea of asking. "What if I didn't live with you, and only visited once in a while?"
"Who would get us chocolate milk?" Kyle asks.
"Who would carry us upstairs?" Sandra asks.
"Your mother would do all those things."
"Oh," Sandra says.
"Okay," Kyle says.
Janet comes home at eleven p.m. Derek, sitting at the kitchen table, stares at her with all the incredulity he can muster. The first thing out of her mouth is, "Did you give the kids a bath?"
"Where the hell were you?" Derek asks.
"I had to get groceries," she explains. "So I went to Kroger's after Target closed. You weren't worried, I hope."
"This pisses me off, Janet," Derek says.
"What? I had to shop."
"You mess up the whole evening doing this."
"This is not what I expected to come home to." Janet drops the target bags where she stands and shoves them aside with her foot. "I was shopping for things we need. I'm sorry I have poison ivy, and had to go to the doctor first."
"It's not the poison ivy," Derek says, rising from his seat in the kitchen and tossing the magazine he'd been reading to the table. The dog begins barking outside. "Who the hell goes shopping this late? That's something most people do during the day."
"I have the kids all day. I thought it would be okay for me, just once, to shop without the kids. I get so much more done if I don't have to stop every ten feet and answer a question, wipe a nose, or scold them for something."
"You're able to spend money more effectively this way, is that it?"
"What is the big deal?" Janet returns to the garage, and Derek follows to the doorway.
"The big deal is that this disrupts our home life not just tonight but all day tomorrow, too."
Janet hands him four bags of groceries. "What are you talking about?"
"I still have to walk the dog, so I won't get to sleep until midnight, at the earliest. That means I'll be tired and groggy all day tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is Saturday. Besides, you can just not walk the dog."
"I didn't walk him yesterday and he was restless all night. He must have woken me up fifteen times."
"I slept fine." Janet hands him four more bags.
Derek piles the bags behind him in the kitchen, sees one bag packed so full of frozen dinners it is about to burst. He sees two more bags just like it, and wonders where the hell she intends on keeping that many things frozen.
"If we're just going to ignore the dog, then why don't I go shoot the fucking thing right now?"
"We're not ignoring him. He's a dog, that's all."
The Target bags come out, some dense and heavy, others overflowing with boxed toys. If history provides any insight, Derek thinks, she will have spent almost $200 at Target, and at least $100 at Krogers. He thinks briefly of their account balance, which may not have that much money.
"Did you use the debit card or a credit card?" Derek asks.
"What's the difference?"
"You don't know what a debit card is?"
"I meant what's the difference to us? Are we short of cash?"
"We're always short of cash, and we keep overdrawing the checking account because of some unscheduled purchase you make."
"Well I'm sorry for trying to take care of the kids and this house. I'm sorry for everything."
"More than the money," Derek says, "it bugs me that I thought maybe we'd make love tonight. But it's nearly eleven-thirty and I still have to walk the dog and we've squandered an opportunity."
"I've got poison ivy," Janet says. "You shouldn't have thought I'd be in the mood. The steroids are almost as bad as the condition."
"Whatever," Derek says, intending to go out as the martyr, and opens the back door where Clifford, leashed to the railing, is waiting. "I have to walk the dog. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow."
The night is clear and the summer air is chilled. Derek considers going back for a jacket but does not want to ruin any effect he may possibly have had.
He hears a car driving fast through the school parking lot. Probably kids starting their Friday night run with a thrill. The tires squeal as the car climbs the hill and makes its way up the long driveway to the road.
Joan probably went out with her officemates. She may be turning in for the night, either picking up her son or relieving the sitter, however she handled the situation. The young or otherwise unattached members of the group would still be going strong, considering a move to a dance bar.
Near the end of the dirt road, Derek looks back at the house and sees four deer crossing towards the rest of the subdivision. As Derek turns the corner and steps onto paved road, he pauses to see if the deer will emerge from the woods and approach the houses.
Derek hears the noise of a backyard party on the next road and moves towards that noise. From this road, peering through the houses, he can see the party. There are tiki torches staked out, a fire in one corner, and people seated at the fire and on the deck. Their voices are heard in snatches. "I know that," a woman says. "Did you hear about," a man says. A child laughs.
Derek continues to the next road and stands in front of the house with the party. There are not an unusual number of cars parked there, so Derek assumes it is a gathering of neighbors.
Derek wonders if he wouldn't enjoy being invited to a neighborhood party. Would it have killed someone to drive a quarter mile farther into the subdivision and invite them? Of course, this was probably a clique in the subdivision, the sort he'd heard about at work, in which the children of the families all get along and the parents help each other out and have barbecues and parties year-round to cement their friendship.
Why didn't the black guy, Howard, arrange something to introduce them to the subdivision? Sure, Derek told him didn't really want neighbors, but it's nice to be invited anyway.
As the noise of the party in the backyard escalates, Clifford crouches and growls at something up the road. Derek looks and sees two darkly clad figures crossing a lawn on the other side of the street. It is chilly, out, but why do they have their hoods up? They cross the street and cut between two houses.
Derek and Clifford, pursuing at a brisk pace, cut between two houses and are immediately confronted by dark figures. Clifford barks and pulls at the leash. Derek recognizes the deer as they turn and gallop away, cross the street, and enter the woods again.
Derek follows but remains in the shadows at the corner of a house and peers up and down the street. The two figures are farther along the street, still walking with their own form of slacker determination.
Derek determines that they are young men, probably adolescent. He thinks one of them must be black. He can't see the other's face, but judging from his posture and dress, similar to the other, he must be black as well.
The noise from the party still dominates the night air, so Derek can not hear the two young men. They appear to make a decision and cross the street and enter the woods that lead to Derek's street.
Derek follows at a jog, heading directly for the woods at the point where he believed the boys entered. It occurs to Derek that his house is essentially unguarded at the moment. Two young men would have little problem overwhelming Janet. Derek moves through the woods a little faster, stumbling over fallen limbs.
He thinks of the assault and the destruction. Maybe they will rob them, boldly entering the home, snatching a few items and running off into the dark. Maybe they will assault his wife and children, threatening them, and only Derek's return will stop the mayhem. Or maybe they will begin an attack and, upon sensing Derek's return, set the home on fire before escaping.
Derek's heart races as he approaches the house, running as fast as he can but out of breath because he really is not in very good shape at all. He sees shadows and movement in the windows, and again he thinks the worst. But his mind also moves ahead to a time when, heaven forbid, if his wife were killed, me might try again. Eventually he'd get over the shock, and he could enjoy himself once more. The tragedy would not be his fault; on the contrary, he'd be pitied and cared for, and admired for moving on so strongly to care for his children.
He had to stop when he reached his own front lawn, unable to move a single step closer without first catching his breath. Again thinking of a time after his wife has passed on, he might finally get back into an exercise routine like he had before they were married.
There was a noise from the stand of trees beside his house, and he jumped back in fear. Clifford growled and then barked as the two adolescents emerged from the trees. They glanced at Derek and the dog, but changed their course to walk away from them.
"What were you doing in there?" Derek said. He notices that they are not black, but white.
One of the youths looked at him and, with great annoyance, said, "Nothing."
Derek felt a slight shift in the balance of power between them, as the boys seemed to want to just move away. "Then why were you over there, in the woods, over here, by my house?"
"I had to take a leak," the boy said. "What's your problem?"
The two boys walked away.
Derek watched them slip into the darkness, and then, left alone with the dog, he turned and faced his house. It occured to him that all would be fine inside. Not fine, but as it was before. The children would be in their beds, and Janet would be watching television, the groceries still in their bags in the kitchen where they were before he left. Maybe she'd be reading the paper, but certainly nothing would be improved.
A noise on the other side of the cul-de-sac drew his attention. Five deer, all of them does, walked out of the protection of the trees, and paused a moment in the tall grass near the gravel road. Two of them lowered their head to graze. Derek stood watching as they slowly moved along the edge of the road. One paused as another strode forward, then another moved up as that one stopped.
The buck stepped out of the shadows. He paused to look around, seemed to look at Derek but revealed nothing if he was concerned. The buck strode without pausing to where the does had gathered. He continued past them, quickening his pace slightly, and then turned off into the trees. The does followed.
Derek considered walking away. Abandon everything and maybe start over somewhere else, far away. As far away as he could walk. He could take the car, but walking seemed more symbolic and tragic. Would Janet finally appreciate then all that he put up with? Would she be worried, or would she care at all? But then the idea sounded silly, and he knew he was fooling no one, not even himself. It reminded him of the time he had attempted to run away when he was eight; he had gotten as far as Wayne's house, and turned back before his mother was even aware of the stunt.
Derek was not the sort of person to make bold or rash decisions, and certainly was not the sort of person to follow through with grand ideas, not even the dark ones that gnawed at his soul. If he had been, he might never have gotten into this situation in the first place.
He took one more look at the dark trees lining their gravel road. In the distance he saw a twinkle of the lights from the party, the party from which they were excluded, and he thought he heard a murmur of laughter. There might be a time when they were included in such parties, but, he decided, they would never be welcome. Not because of the hosts, but because of themselves.
Resigned to his situation, Derek gathered his resolve and walked up to the house, moving gingerly because of the fatigue brought on by his short run. Inside, he unleashed the dog, and went quietly up to bed.
Lansing, Michigan, 2001 (Revised 2009)