I grab my bag and

I walk out tha motherfucking door.

3

GREENWICH

CN/trdrbear

Cold and dark outside, nice and warm inside. Children around the table, happy family. My house.

It was my house.

Not needed.

About face and back down the walk, between the hedges. The grass is brown, but I can’t see it, I just know. Can’t feel my feet as I get in the car, pull away, down the street, right, a right, another right, then a left, up the driveway, into the garage, and it just comes. How did it come to this. I put on some music, roll down the windows, leave the engine running, shut the garage door behind me. Does anyone do this not crying?

Time passes and I change my mind. It’s a big garage.

* * * *

The hospital, baby number four. This is familiar by now.

Contractions are infrequent and we are in the waiting room. CNN on TV, a compromise between factions of patients. Sun Chips in the snack machine, and Sprite in the soda machine, I take one of each. Crunching, I look at Katharine, and it just comes. Does anyone do this not crying?

She tells me, and the world is different.

* * * *

I can’t find my wallet.

Jesus H. Christ. Where did I leave it?

The sun was streaming through the window of my (small, new) house, making my head hurt. I drank a lot, but I didn’t black out. I think I remember everything. I was in a bar with Tod and the New Girl, and there was no reason for me to take out my wallet because Tod was buying the drinks. In fact, there was no reason for me to take out my wallet the entire night, including when I was in the car, because you don’t tip the driver.

Huh.

This meant I was going to have to drive to work without a driver’s license. There was only about $60 in there—I hadn’t gone to the ATM in a while. The credit cards could be cancelled. I could get a driver’s license. But I didn’t have time to do any of these things. Least of all I had time to stand around for two solid days in the Greenwich DMV. I needed to get to work. I needed to be at work by six, because Weber will already be there and will already know what is going on, even before all the brokers get to work to tell me what is going on so I can tell Weber what is going on. I don’t know how what I do helps him. He already knows everything, anyway.

Now I remember. I left a tip for Tod. The wallet is in the bar. I could call the bar, but it would be hours before they open, and the wallet would be long gone. No doubt some asshole was selling swipes for a Metrocard he bought with my AMEX.

Things are getting relentlessly, unimaginably bad.