mother’s house, over the summer. He hadn’t known exactly why he had wanted to bring it back to Atlanta with him—maybe it just reminded him of the “good old days” back in high school, when he played tennis and golf and basketball every afternoon, before he was so burdened with adult responsibilities.
But even that little project had met with disaster. He had first put the trophy case in the living room, but then decided it would look better in the bedroom, because it didn’t really go very well with all the plastic-covered furniture. While he was sliding it across the floor, one of the trophies—his
It was a first prize award he won in a tennis championship his junior year in high school. On top was a man who was swinging his racquet overhead, as if leaping to serve the ball. The end of the racquet had snapped off when the heavy trophy had slammed into the hardwood floor. Neal had been furious, blaming it on the baby, who was crying so loudly that he couldn’t keep his mind on what he was doing. Later, he felt guilty. He knew it was his own fault for not taking all the trophies out of the case again before he moved it. Annie had actually told him to do this, but he hadn’t listened to her. He tried in vain to glue the trophy back together.
Neal sighed and gulped down some more of his beer. He supposed none of that mattered. Playing sports and winning trophies were now a thing of the past.
Annie appeared at the kitchen doorway, the baby in her arms.
“Who gave you the message at work?”
“The old lady. Grammy.”
“What did she say, exactly?”
“She didn’t
“Oh. Well, what did
“I already told you, Annie.”
“‘I love you. From Baby Natasha?’”
“Yeah,” Neal said, taking another swallow of beer.
“Where is it?”
Neal reached for his shirt pocket, but then remembered he had thrown it away. “I don’t have it anymore.”
Annie looked skeptical. “Uh-huh.”
Neal felt his blood pressure rising. “I tore the damn thing up and threw it away, Annie! I didn’t want to leave it laying around for somebody else to see—it was bad enough as it was.”
Annie nodded, but the skeptical look was still there. “Maybe one of the people you work with did it, as a joke.”
“Why in the world would they do that? I haven’t told anyone else about what happened this morning. You’re the only person who knows.” Neal glared at his wife for a few seconds. “That means, wifey dearest, that it
“Or you.”
Neal did not speak for a moment. “What do you mean by that?”
“I think you know what I mean, Neal.” Annie retrieved the baby seat, put Natasha in it, and began to prepare dinner.
Neal went into the living room, so angry he was shaking. He picked up the paper off the floor and began to scour the classified ads for a new job. This was a nightly ritual—this and driving to the library to use the Internet to search the online job listings, as they could no longer afford such “luxuries” as an online connection or even cable TV. Or even a cell phone! At the beginning of the summer, when school had ended, he thought he might be able to find a position in which he could use his knowledge of chemistry—maybe an opening for a lab technician or analyst. But he had nearly given up hope. No one wanted to hire a chemist who “almost” had a college degree. The market was saturated with plenty of qualified applicants.
After his routine perusal, he chucked the paper into the chair beside him. This time, it did not slide off the plastic covering.
“Nothing new?” Annie said from the kitchen
