that were too small for Jonah or too beat up for anyone else to wear again. When he was finished, he gathered the discarded shoes and carried them out to the garage. After dumping them in the garbage can, he secured the lid and looked around.
"What else can I get rid of…?" he asked out loud as dust bunnies swirled in the stream of sunshine coming in through the opened door.
His eyes fell on a gray plastic storage bin sitting under the tool bench. Swatting at the cobwebs that clung to its plastic edges, he dragged it to an open space and snapped the lid off. A pair of black glass eyes sewn on a cloth face surrounded by red yarn stared up at him. He picked up the doll and examined it.
Everything in the bin seemed to belong to Claire. Under the doll was a collection of paperbacks. Pulling out a few, he read the titles as he stacked them nearby. " Harriet the Spy , Caddie Woodlawn , Witch of Blackberry Pond , The Great Gatsby , Mr. Blue , To Kill a Mockingbird ."
Next came what appeared to be a photo album. When he opened it, two pictures slipped to the garage floor. Paul sat on the cool cement and examined each. In one, Claire must have been four or five, scowling as she stood next to Kate in front of a Christmas tree. They were in matching party dresses and both looked as if they had just been scolded to stand still. Paul recognized that look all too well from his many failed attempts to get a group shot of the boys for Christmas card photos.
The other picture was of Claire at her college graduation, wearing a cap and gown and an I-did-it grin plastered on her exultant face.
Holding it close so he could better examine it, Paul smiled back at the image and whispered, "There's my girl."
Peering into the box, he pulled out her yearbooks and rifled through some old letters and greeting cards before he pulled out what looked like a page from a magazine that had been folded down to a two-square-inch cube. He opened it carefully, not sure what he'd find.
Smoothing it out on the garage floor in front of him, he saw that it was a full-page ad for a jewelry store with a half dozen different engagement rings and wedding band sets circling around the words "Diamonds by Delbert."
One of the wedding band sets, he couldn't help but notice, had been circled several times with red ink. Little hand-drawn hearts drifted above it.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
A dark cloud settled over him as he recalled the disappointment in Claire's face when he'd explained that he thought they should stick with simple gold bands so they could pay off their debt that much quicker. It was the same reasoning he'd used to convince her that they could do without a honeymoon too.
No wonder she's miserable.
Folding it neatly back into its square shape, he was about to return it to the bin, when he noticed a beat-up red folder that was stuffed with loose-leaf paper covered in handwriting and computer paper covered in twelve-point Times New Roman, double-spaced. In the upper right corner of the folder were the words "Advanced Creative Writing."
Her favorite class.
Like a light bulb illuminating his dusty memory banks, the deal Claire had referred to during their most recent argument came to mind with stunning clarity. They had been in his Old Town apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the morning sun and the noise of the Brown Line train as it rattled by on its way to Lincoln Park and points north. The sheets were tangled all around them as they struggled to catch their breath, and he remembered feeling nothing short of charmed. He had just landed a plum position at Creiger Capital, and the girl of his dreams had just agreed to spend the rest of her life with him. He was walking on air. They had their whole lives in front of them and spent those lazy, post-passion minutes putting words to their deepest dreams and desires.
The memory of it choked him with a yearning he had tucked away in a failed effort to guard his heart
"What else can I get rid of…?" he asked out loud as dust bunnies swirled in the stream of sunshine coming in through the opened door.
His eyes fell on a gray plastic storage bin sitting under the tool bench. Swatting at the cobwebs that clung to its plastic edges, he dragged it to an open space and snapped the lid off. A pair of black glass eyes sewn on a cloth face surrounded by red yarn stared up at him. He picked up the doll and examined it.
Everything in the bin seemed to belong to Claire. Under the doll was a collection of paperbacks. Pulling out a few, he read the titles as he stacked them nearby. " Harriet the Spy , Caddie Woodlawn , Witch of Blackberry Pond , The Great Gatsby , Mr. Blue , To Kill a Mockingbird ."
Next came what appeared to be a photo album. When he opened it, two pictures slipped to the garage floor. Paul sat on the cool cement and examined each. In one, Claire must have been four or five, scowling as she stood next to Kate in front of a Christmas tree. They were in matching party dresses and both looked as if they had just been scolded to stand still. Paul recognized that look all too well from his many failed attempts to get a group shot of the boys for Christmas card photos.
The other picture was of Claire at her college graduation, wearing a cap and gown and an I-did-it grin plastered on her exultant face.
Holding it close so he could better examine it, Paul smiled back at the image and whispered, "There's my girl."
Peering into the box, he pulled out her yearbooks and rifled through some old letters and greeting cards before he pulled out what looked like a page from a magazine that had been folded down to a two-square-inch cube. He opened it carefully, not sure what he'd find.
Smoothing it out on the garage floor in front of him, he saw that it was a full-page ad for a jewelry store with a half dozen different engagement rings and wedding band sets circling around the words "Diamonds by Delbert."
One of the wedding band sets, he couldn't help but notice, had been circled several times with red ink. Little hand-drawn hearts drifted above it.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
A dark cloud settled over him as he recalled the disappointment in Claire's face when he'd explained that he thought they should stick with simple gold bands so they could pay off their debt that much quicker. It was the same reasoning he'd used to convince her that they could do without a honeymoon too.
No wonder she's miserable.
Folding it neatly back into its square shape, he was about to return it to the bin, when he noticed a beat-up red folder that was stuffed with loose-leaf paper covered in handwriting and computer paper covered in twelve-point Times New Roman, double-spaced. In the upper right corner of the folder were the words "Advanced Creative Writing."
Her favorite class.
Like a light bulb illuminating his dusty memory banks, the deal Claire had referred to during their most recent argument came to mind with stunning clarity. They had been in his Old Town apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the morning sun and the noise of the Brown Line train as it rattled by on its way to Lincoln Park and points north. The sheets were tangled all around them as they struggled to catch their breath, and he remembered feeling nothing short of charmed. He had just landed a plum position at Creiger Capital, and the girl of his dreams had just agreed to spend the rest of her life with him. He was walking on air. They had their whole lives in front of them and spent those lazy, post-passion minutes putting words to their deepest dreams and desires.
The memory of it choked him with a yearning he had tucked away in a failed effort to guard his heart
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