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another drink, wondering why I even bothered to come. “Mom worries about you. She called me the other day. Said she couldn’t get a hold of you.”
    “I’ll try to get over there before I leave.”
    “You do that, Dylan.” I stand up, throw some money on the bar, and walk out.
    My empty house greets me when I return home. I turn on the lights and throw my keys and phone on the coffee table. Click on the TV and surf the channels. Around 10:00 P.M . my phone rings. I answer and Melissa asks the same question she always does, her voice low and inviting.
    “Want some company?”
    My house seems emptier than it usually does, and I don’t feel like being alone tonight, so I say, “Sure. Come on over.”
    She arrives twenty minutes later, and she smiles when I open the door. We don’t speak, but I step aside and when she walks through the door I follow her down the hallway to my bedroom.



9
    claire
    Chris flies out of the Kansas City International Airport every Monday morning and returns on Thursday night, spending Fridays in his office at the company’s headquarters. He’s now the director of sales for a large software development company, and from what little he’s shared with me, the culture sounds dreadful. “It’s ridiculously competitive,” Chris said, shortly after starting, but the tone of his voice made me think he was more than a little excited about the challenge.
    Even when he’s not at work he is always working, sitting on the couch with his laptop or in the office with the door closed. He’s on the phone a lot, too. Once he walked into the kitchen and I thought he was talking to me, so I answered. But when he turned his head and I saw the Bluetooth headset I realized he wasn’t talking to me at all.
    He gets in late bearing overpriced souvenirs—small stuffed animals for Jordan and unique gadgets or toys for Josh—purchased mostly from airport gift shops. In the two short months he’s been back to work he’s been elevated to the preferred parent, and I’ve become mean Mommy, the one that makes the kids eat their vegetables and go to bed on time.
    “This is a bad habit to start,” I warned Chris, but I know why he does it. I wanted to tell him that Josh and Jordan are too young to hold a grudge, and that their memories of the last year are already fading. Kids are remarkably resilient. More so than their parents, apparently.
    He had to travel an extra day this week and we were asleep when he got home last night. The kids’ summer vacation is in full swing and when Chris called from the airport he promised them a trip to the water park in Kansas City. The sun shines bright on this Saturday morning at the end of June, and the predicted high of eighty-five makes it a perfect day for careening down waterslides and splashing around in a wave pool.
    Chris walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Josh puts a forkful of waffles and sausage into his mouth. “Are you still gonna take us to the water park, Dad?” he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking a large drink of his orange juice.
    I hand him a napkin. “Finish chewing next time,” I say.
    “Yep,” Chris says. He heads toward the coffee pot and pours a cup, then sits down at the table and yawns. Jordan smiles and Chris reaches over and tweaks her nose. “How’s my baby girl this morning?”
    “I’m good, Daddy,” she says, smiling. She finishes her breakfast and climbs into Chris’s lap, throwing her arms around him in a spontaneous hug.
    He holds her tight and says, “Aw, thank you.”
    “If you’re done eating, put your plates in the sink,” I say.
    “Can we change into our swimsuits?” Josh asks, barely able to contain his excitement.
    “It’s a little early yet, but go ahead.” They tear out of the room, eager to get this show on the road.
    “I can’t go with you today,” I tell Chris. “I’m putting the finishing touches on a big project and it’s due by noon. I was supposed to turn it in