a square on the window. It occurred to him, and not for the first time, that they wouldn’t be able to travel as much with a baby. In three months Brenda wouldn’t be able to jump in the car and drive to a store the way she could now; they wouldn’t be able to work late or sleep in on weekends. Andrea had told them that the donor would not even know of the baby. The man probably had other children at that point, several or more. Hundreds, even, all across the country. The thought was an almost pleasant one, as it made the man seem more a distant, avuncular patron than the father of Daniel’s wife’s child.
When they stopped for gas, Daniel watched Brenda lift the pump from its holder and shove it into the gas tank. She yawned and leaned against the car, her head to the sky.
She thinks I’ve become a grouchy old bastard,
he thought.
She’ll grow tired of me and leave me.
He swallowed his breath. When she finally looked at him, he formed what he considered a sympathetic smile.
Across the parking lot was an old man selling corn from the back of a pickup truck. He sat on a beach chair with his legs stretched flat, tapping his bare feet together and reading a newspaper. Beside him was a young boy kicking a bottle. The boy saw Daniel gazing at him, smiled wide and waved furiously. Daniel wondered if he thought he knew him, and wasn’t sure whether to wave back. He lifted his hand and held it there for a moment.
Brenda walked inside the small building to pay, and when she returned she looked over at the truck. “I suppose you’re going to comment on that man’s bare feet being an affront to humanity.”
“No, actually I wasn’t. I was going to say that it’s cute, a boy and his grandfather selling corn.”
She revved the engine and headed out. “Why do I doubt that?”
“Because you think I see nothing positive in the world anymore? I do, you know, see positive things. I did think that was a sweet sight back there.”
“All right.”
“You don’t believe me.” He pressed his hands against his lap. “I did think it was nice. It seemed like some kind of pure sight, almost like an anachronism, and, and why why why am I trying to convince you that I’m not a horrible person right now?”
“I don’t know.”
He adjusted his glasses and inhaled a long, slow breath. He had several projects due next week: a book jacket for a novel set in Cuba, and a pamphlet for the Children’s Museum, and a menu for a bar his friend owned back in Brooklyn. The projects couldn’t be more different, and in hismind he tried to merge them. A palm tree; an inflatable toy palm tree; a small plastic palm tree sticking out of a margarita. He’d drifted so far from his earlier work, his abstract drawings and paintings. It’d been years since he’d made any real art.
Brenda wore her new perfume today, something she’d bought on a recent work trip to New York. It was a sweet scent of pears and cinnamon. She hadn’t worn perfume in years, since they’d met, really, and Daniel appreciated her wearing it today, when they would see his family.
“You smell nice,” he offered. He reached for her stomach and pressed his hand where he imagined the small head might be, but he couldn’t feel any movement. The baby seemed to be able to sense when his hand was near—inevitably it stopped moving. “Anyone there?”
“Move for Dan, little one.”
“Kick for your father,” he said.
“It’s been calm today. Maybe it’s tired from dancing around so much this week,” she said. “Maybe it’s sleeping.”
Daniel leaned over and kissed her neck and chin. He reached between her legs and she squirmed away from him. “Hey, I’m driving!” she said. She grabbed his hand, guided it toward her stomach again and said, “Here, try now,” but Daniel pulled away. “Let’s give it a chance to wake up,” he said.
He held his hands together and looked out the window at the other cars and minivans on the two-lane highway. He’d
When they stopped for gas, Daniel watched Brenda lift the pump from its holder and shove it into the gas tank. She yawned and leaned against the car, her head to the sky.
She thinks I’ve become a grouchy old bastard,
he thought.
She’ll grow tired of me and leave me.
He swallowed his breath. When she finally looked at him, he formed what he considered a sympathetic smile.
Across the parking lot was an old man selling corn from the back of a pickup truck. He sat on a beach chair with his legs stretched flat, tapping his bare feet together and reading a newspaper. Beside him was a young boy kicking a bottle. The boy saw Daniel gazing at him, smiled wide and waved furiously. Daniel wondered if he thought he knew him, and wasn’t sure whether to wave back. He lifted his hand and held it there for a moment.
Brenda walked inside the small building to pay, and when she returned she looked over at the truck. “I suppose you’re going to comment on that man’s bare feet being an affront to humanity.”
“No, actually I wasn’t. I was going to say that it’s cute, a boy and his grandfather selling corn.”
She revved the engine and headed out. “Why do I doubt that?”
“Because you think I see nothing positive in the world anymore? I do, you know, see positive things. I did think that was a sweet sight back there.”
“All right.”
“You don’t believe me.” He pressed his hands against his lap. “I did think it was nice. It seemed like some kind of pure sight, almost like an anachronism, and, and why why why am I trying to convince you that I’m not a horrible person right now?”
“I don’t know.”
He adjusted his glasses and inhaled a long, slow breath. He had several projects due next week: a book jacket for a novel set in Cuba, and a pamphlet for the Children’s Museum, and a menu for a bar his friend owned back in Brooklyn. The projects couldn’t be more different, and in hismind he tried to merge them. A palm tree; an inflatable toy palm tree; a small plastic palm tree sticking out of a margarita. He’d drifted so far from his earlier work, his abstract drawings and paintings. It’d been years since he’d made any real art.
Brenda wore her new perfume today, something she’d bought on a recent work trip to New York. It was a sweet scent of pears and cinnamon. She hadn’t worn perfume in years, since they’d met, really, and Daniel appreciated her wearing it today, when they would see his family.
“You smell nice,” he offered. He reached for her stomach and pressed his hand where he imagined the small head might be, but he couldn’t feel any movement. The baby seemed to be able to sense when his hand was near—inevitably it stopped moving. “Anyone there?”
“Move for Dan, little one.”
“Kick for your father,” he said.
“It’s been calm today. Maybe it’s tired from dancing around so much this week,” she said. “Maybe it’s sleeping.”
Daniel leaned over and kissed her neck and chin. He reached between her legs and she squirmed away from him. “Hey, I’m driving!” she said. She grabbed his hand, guided it toward her stomach again and said, “Here, try now,” but Daniel pulled away. “Let’s give it a chance to wake up,” he said.
He held his hands together and looked out the window at the other cars and minivans on the two-lane highway. He’d
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