Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Two
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Part Three
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
In the back of my mind, I did worry that I’d want something else. Would I want to stay home for the entire maternity leave? Maybe I’d hate it and want to come back to work sooner? Maybe I’d miss the energy and the intellectual stimulation? Or I’d want to telecommute, and how would that fly? If I wasn’t in the newsroom, I wondered if people might forget me, if I’d be passed over or be selected for the next rounds of reduction when they inevitably came.
None of this stressed out Hal. He stayed calm as a sea cucumber. He knew what to expect, and I didn’t. But I was doing my best to see his experience as another resource for me. And for us.
Fifteen
Digger
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2002
Morning
Cally was shaking me. We’d reclined our seats, but I hadn’t slept well in the truck. “Wake up,” she said. “I need to pee.”
“Go and pee, then.” I squinted and sat up. It was so early. I could barely see the cabin, the shed. All covered in snow.
“Where?” Cally was wide awake.
“There’s an outhouse.” I pointed to the right. “Over there, down the path. Take the flashlight.”
She wiggled herself out of the blankets and clothes we’d slept under. She tried to pass me the baby.
“No, just put her on the seat.”
“No,” she said. “Hold her till I get back.”
“Hang on,” I said, sitting up and adjusting my hat. I wasn’t getting out of this. So I put my hands out, palms up, like a beggar. Cally placed the baby’s head in one hand and the butt in the other. Felt like a Slinky.
Cally took high steps through the snow. She found the trail and disappeared in the woods, the light from the flashlight jumping around.
I looked at the baby. She yawned and opened her eyes. They were wide and dark. Like walnuts but black. “You look like an alien,” I said to the kid. “Anybody ever tell you that?”
Cally was quick. She came walking back with a big grin on her face.
“What’s wrong with you?” I said when she opened the door and climbed in.
“I found the key!” She dangled it in my face.
“Where?” I traded the baby for the key.
“In the outhouse,” she said. “On a hook!”
“Oh yeah.” I rubbed my eyes. “I should have looked there.”
“It’s all right,” she said, smiling at the baby. “We survived.”
“I need to go back to sleep.”
“No, let’s go inside,” she said.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass.” I shut off the ignition and checked my hair in the mirror. “Fine.”