expected, I guess. It was hard.”
He picked up on the slight edge in her voice and what she didn’t say spoke volumes. It was hard, but Hank’s retirement would’ve been easier if he’d been there with her.
Sara picked up the remote and started flipping through channels. “Did you eat? I had dinner with Mom but I could probably whip up something for you.”
“No thanks, I’m good.” John got up and went to the fridge. He grabbed a can of beer and held the cool aluminum container against his forehead for a moment before breaking the seal and taking a sip. The pungent aftertaste of the hops bit his tongue after the first swallow and he sighed. The six pack of India pale ale was a gift to himself that he picked up from the specialty market downtown last week. Compared to the bland lager most people bought, the microbrew packed a strong punch with a price tag to match. They could afford it, but Sara usually bought the watery mass market beer. To her, beer was beer and she just didn’t get it.
Sara stood in the doorway. “I asked mom to move in with us. They’re kicking her out of her place due to some occupancy rule, so I said she could live with us.”
The statement hung in the air, waiting for him to either accept or challenge. He took another sip and nodded. “Okay.”
“It’s not like you’re ever home anyway. You probably won’t even notice she’s here.”
“I said it’s fine. What do you want from me?”
Sara let out a joyless laugh and turned back to the living room. John sighed and emptied half the can in one pull. The beer was supposed to be savored slowly as a treat but suddenly he felt guilty for drinking it. What did Sara want from him? She could probably talk about that subject for days.
He went back into the living room and sat down. Sara was back to flipping channels. “I know what this is about,” John said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you today, but you know I had to work. I told you about it days ago.”
“Sometimes I wonder what’s more important to you. Your family or that damn job.”
He grabbed the remote from her hand and pointed it at the TV. “Without that damn job we don’t have any of this. You think I do it for fun? I’m busting my ass out there every day so you don’t have to live in a dump like that place your mom is getting kicked out of.”
Sara crossed her arms and stared blankly ahead.
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “I’ll get a job down at the munitions plant so you can stand in line for food vouchers and wait all day at the free clinic if you get sick. Hell, tell Peg to stop packing! We can move into the slums with her and just get it over with right away.”
Sara glared at him. “That dump was my home for most of my life. We may have been poor, but at least we had each other.” She got up and stormed out of the room. The bedroom door slammed shut.
“Awesome,” John muttered. He finished the beer with one swallow and set the empty can on the oak coffee table in front of him. Just that piece alone was probably worth more than all the furniture combined in Peg’s apartment.
He looked around the room. Most women would’ve been content with the life he provided. Then again, Sara wasn’t like most women. It’s what he found so attractive in the first place. She probably really would be happy if he worked some shitty nine to five that barely put food on the table if it meant he was home more.
Once again, his mind returned to his single years as it did with more frequency lately. It all seemed so simple back then. He worked hard and played even harder. When he wasn’t on assignment, he was with Carter and some of the other guys, staying out all night at the city’s elite clubs and restaurants. The world at their fingertips. They had money, power, and a never ending flow of eager young women. And after the party was over, a quiet and comfortable apartment all to himself. Nobody to answer to or worry about besides John
He picked up on the slight edge in her voice and what she didn’t say spoke volumes. It was hard, but Hank’s retirement would’ve been easier if he’d been there with her.
Sara picked up the remote and started flipping through channels. “Did you eat? I had dinner with Mom but I could probably whip up something for you.”
“No thanks, I’m good.” John got up and went to the fridge. He grabbed a can of beer and held the cool aluminum container against his forehead for a moment before breaking the seal and taking a sip. The pungent aftertaste of the hops bit his tongue after the first swallow and he sighed. The six pack of India pale ale was a gift to himself that he picked up from the specialty market downtown last week. Compared to the bland lager most people bought, the microbrew packed a strong punch with a price tag to match. They could afford it, but Sara usually bought the watery mass market beer. To her, beer was beer and she just didn’t get it.
Sara stood in the doorway. “I asked mom to move in with us. They’re kicking her out of her place due to some occupancy rule, so I said she could live with us.”
The statement hung in the air, waiting for him to either accept or challenge. He took another sip and nodded. “Okay.”
“It’s not like you’re ever home anyway. You probably won’t even notice she’s here.”
“I said it’s fine. What do you want from me?”
Sara let out a joyless laugh and turned back to the living room. John sighed and emptied half the can in one pull. The beer was supposed to be savored slowly as a treat but suddenly he felt guilty for drinking it. What did Sara want from him? She could probably talk about that subject for days.
He went back into the living room and sat down. Sara was back to flipping channels. “I know what this is about,” John said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you today, but you know I had to work. I told you about it days ago.”
“Sometimes I wonder what’s more important to you. Your family or that damn job.”
He grabbed the remote from her hand and pointed it at the TV. “Without that damn job we don’t have any of this. You think I do it for fun? I’m busting my ass out there every day so you don’t have to live in a dump like that place your mom is getting kicked out of.”
Sara crossed her arms and stared blankly ahead.
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “I’ll get a job down at the munitions plant so you can stand in line for food vouchers and wait all day at the free clinic if you get sick. Hell, tell Peg to stop packing! We can move into the slums with her and just get it over with right away.”
Sara glared at him. “That dump was my home for most of my life. We may have been poor, but at least we had each other.” She got up and stormed out of the room. The bedroom door slammed shut.
“Awesome,” John muttered. He finished the beer with one swallow and set the empty can on the oak coffee table in front of him. Just that piece alone was probably worth more than all the furniture combined in Peg’s apartment.
He looked around the room. Most women would’ve been content with the life he provided. Then again, Sara wasn’t like most women. It’s what he found so attractive in the first place. She probably really would be happy if he worked some shitty nine to five that barely put food on the table if it meant he was home more.
Once again, his mind returned to his single years as it did with more frequency lately. It all seemed so simple back then. He worked hard and played even harder. When he wasn’t on assignment, he was with Carter and some of the other guys, staying out all night at the city’s elite clubs and restaurants. The world at their fingertips. They had money, power, and a never ending flow of eager young women. And after the party was over, a quiet and comfortable apartment all to himself. Nobody to answer to or worry about besides John
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