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added before taking a look at his watch, “you have just six hours to stop tempting fate.”
    Ian looked at Jack and then Candy. They care about me. Larry didn’t have to get me that job. He didn’t have to take me along. Maybe this is the right call. I can keep working on her in my spare time. Ian rolled over and closed his eyes. He had to give in and take the job, that was certain. But he silently begged for just a little more time as a free man. I’ll tell them in the afternoon, after a quick nap.

Chapter 4
    What if? The thought raged in Ian’s mind. What if he failed? What if he succeeded? What would success even look like? He couldn’t imagine it. What if they had to move apartments? Could they get another one like it? What if all three kids had to share one room? Stacy wouldn’t like it. For that matter, neither would Michael, even though he was hardly ever there. Even Jack prized his alone time.
    Ian opened his eyes and looked up. A pale, contorted rectangle of light flickered on the ceiling. He glimpsed the moon outside. What if they ended up in the street? What if Candy left him and took all the kids? What if he was all alone?
    It’s not worth it. The risks are too high. He rolled over. Candy was not there. All-night virtual reality games again? He frowned and shook his head. There was a dead end. Depression, despair, isolation, everything fake. What did they see in it?
    Enough. A surge of exasperated energy hit him. Ian swung his legs out of bed, tightening his abdominals and landing on his feet like a ninja ready for a surprise fight.
    A pang of doubt hit him. He stood at the windowsill and looked out at the abandoned alley below. You’re not an inventor. You’re a train engineer. You supervise machines. You don’t make them. You don’t even fix them. He collapsed, cross-legged to the floor, facing his nightstand.
    Desperate for some distraction, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the first thing he touched.
    It was his high school yearbook. He flipped it open with a mix of apprehension and nostalgia. He braced himself against any unhappy reminder.
    There it was on page one: a note from Francesca. “You’re a great inventor. I’ve learned so much from you. I know I’ll be using your inventions someday, and thinking of you, no matter where I am.”
    Wow. It all flooded back to him. He stood up, the yearbook under his arm. He walked into the living room, sat down at his workstation and noted the time: 3 AM. Push through it.
    He yawned.
    ***
    Jack nestled against his chest and Ian adjusted his right arm to support the boy’s head.
    With the left, he tapped away at the dusty old keyboard in the living room. On the screen, he looked at his work so far.
    It’s shit, all shit. Unoriginal, won’t work. An amateur’s plaything. A delusion. Ian felt his insides collapsing on each other in a self-defeating race to the bottom.
    The boy sighed deeply and exhaled in a stutter. He was at peace, happy in the arms of his father. I have to do this. If not for me then at least for Jack.
    ***
    “We voted and you’re out,” Candy whispered.
    Ian stood up from the living room workstation and turned around. He stretched, then yawned.
    In front of him stood Candy, Michael and Stacy. Stacy looked at the floor, Michael obsessively scratched his scalp and Candy glared at him with her arms crossed.
    Ian brought his wrist up in front of his face: 5 PM. Is it that late? He looked up at them. “Did you say something?”
    Michael spoke up. “We voted, the three of us, and we decided that you have to leave. You’re not contributing to the household and you’re trying to control us.”
    A burst of laugher escaped Ian.
    The three stared at him steadily.
    Ian looked at them dubiously. “This is my house. My work paid for this. It paid for every gram of food that went in your mouths.” He pointed at Stacy and Michael.
    Michael turned away. Stacy tapped her foot against the floor and continued to look down.
    “This