In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. He was in the city and had already wasted five bucks, what were a few dollars more? He drove to McDonald's and bought himself a value meal, consoling himself with junk food, taking the sting off his disappointment.
He was back home by noon, just in time to catch an old John Ford western on AMC. He sat in his recliner in front of the television, but he couldn't concentrate on the film and instead brooded about his dismal efforts to secure employment. On the screen, John Wayne rode through the desert sand in front of majestic red peaks that rose dramatically out of the earth behind him, and Daniel wondered what it would be like to live in Arizona.
The West was supposed to have a booming job market these days, and once again he found himself thinking that it might be better to just pull up stakes and follow the sun rather than sit here in this crummy row house and wait for something to turn up.
At least he wasn't such a macho jerk that he resented Margot for bringing home a paycheck. He was grateful that she had a job, and he had no hangups about having to be the primary breadwinner of the household. He and Margot weren't in competition, they were a team, one for all and all for one, and he was proud of her success.
Still, for his own sake, he wanted to work. He wasn't creative, was not an artist or a writer or a musician, and he had nothing productive to do with his free time. More than the money, it was the desire to dispel this feeling of uselessness that he wanted.
The phone rang. Margot. He'd forgotten that he was supposed to call her, and he quickly apologized before giving her a thumbnail sketch of his morning.
She sighed sympathetically. 'Doesn't look good, huh?'
'I'm not holding my breath.'
'Don't worry,' she said. 'Something'11 turn up.'
'Yeah.'
'Are you busy this afternoon?'
He snorted. 'Yeah. Right.'
'I need you to go to the store and pick up some hamburger buns and ground beef. I forgot my ATM card and have no cash.'
'I don't have any cash either.'
'My card's either on the dresser or the bathroom sink.'
'The sink?'
'I don't want a lecture.'
'Sorry.'
'I'll pick up Tony on my way home.'
'I can do it.'
'You can do it tomorrow. We'll switch cars.'
Daniel understood. 'He's embarrassed by the Buick?'
'He didn't say anything, but yeah. You know how kids are at that age. Embarrassed by everything.'
'Especially parents.'
Margot laughed. 'Especially parents.' There was noise in the background, talking. 'Wait a sec,' she said.
There was a pause, the sound of muffled voices as she conversed with another woman. 'Gottago,' she said, coming back on the line. 'We have a crisis here. Make sure you stop by the store.'
'I will. Love you.'
'Me too. Bye.'
He hung up the phone and switched off the TV, walking through the kitchen and down the hall. The house seemed silent with the television off, too silent, uncomfortably silent, and Daniel immediately began whistling a mindless tune in order to generate some noise.
He was filled with a vague sense of unease as he entered the bedroom, a feeling that intensified as he passed the dresser and approached the narrow doorway that led to the bathroom. It was a strange sensation, one he didn't immediately recognize, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was fear. Not the rational fear of physical danger he'd sometimes experienced as an adult, but a baseless, groundless, superstitious dread he associated with childhood. A fear of the boogeyman was what it was, a fear of ghosts, an emotion he hadn't experienced in decades, and though he felt stupid, he turned around, expecting to see a shape or figure behind him, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched even after he saw that the room was empty.
Where the hell had this come from? A moment ago he had been on the phone to Margot, having a normal conversation, talking about buying food for dinner, now he was getting the shit spooked out of him walking through his own bedroom.
It was irrational, he knew, and made no sense, but the feeling did not go away, not even when he found Margot's ATM card next to her hairbrush on the tiled counter next to the sink, not even when he hurried out of the bedroom and back down the hall.
It was only when he was finally outside, on the stoop, locking the front door of the house, that the panic left him, that he finally felt as though he could breathe.
Stress.
Maybe he'd been counting on getting that Cutting Edge job more than he thought.
Either that or his house had suddenly become haunted within the past five minutes.
Maybe Margot had died.
Or Tony.
He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. This way lay compulsion. Obsession. There were no ghosts, nothing weird, only his overactive imagination which, after lying in a coma for the past two decades, had suddenly decided to announce its existence.
Stress.
It had to be stress.
Nevertheless, he breathed a little easier when he was in the car and on the road to the grocery store and the house was safely behind him.
After dinner, Daniel sat with Tony at the kitchen table, helping his son with homework while Margot did the dishes.
Tony finally finished his assignment and asked if he could watch TV.
'Only until eight-thirty,' Daniel told him. 'Then it's time for bed. This is a school night.'
'But, Dad--'
'No buts.'
Tony slumped out of the kitchen and through the swinging door out to the living room.
'Next year, we'll let him stay up until nine,' Margot said.
'If he keeps his grades up.'
She smiled. 'Never thought you'd turn into your father, did you?'
Daniel pushed back his chair, walked over to the sink, and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her right ear a quick kiss. 'I love you, Mrs. Anderson.'
'I know.'
'Aren't you supposed to say, 'I love you too'?'
'Actions speak louder than words.' She dropped her voice. 'I thought I'd show you later.'
He grinned. 'That's why I love you.'
From outside, there was the sound of a nunmuffled Charger engine, an earthquake rumble that roared to a crescendo before dying.
'Your brother's here.' Daniel returned to his seat.
'Be nice to him.'
'Always am.'
'Brian looks up to you.'
'How much you want to bet that he brings up the fact that I'm still unemployed?'
She looked out the kitchen window, quickly went back to washing, pretending as though she didn't know anyone was here. 'Shut up.'
