the famous dancing horses. The news that morning was filled with images of the torn carcasses of the beautiful animals, strewn among the dead celebrants and the rubble of the twin churches. “Hundreds dead in Rome, the counting still going on,” the Fox host was saying. “What’s Italy’s response going to be?”
The youthful prime minister was a nationalist, with his hair closely trimmed on the sides and long on top, the fashion for the neofascists taking over Europe. Predictably, he proposed mass expulsions of Muslims.
Jill Parsons switched off the TV when she heard the kids thundering downstairs, an argument already under way. They were bickering over whether Helen would be allowed to go to Legoland with Teddy and his friends. Helen wasn’t even interested in Legos.
“Who wants waffles?” Jill asked cheerily. Neither child responded; they were still captivated by their pointless argument. Peepers, a rescue dog of mixed heritage, with black patches around his eyes like a panda, stirred from his corner and shambled over to referee the quarrel.
“It’s my birthday,” Teddy said indignantly.
“I let you come to Six Flags on mine,” Helen replied.
“Mom, she stole my waffle!” Teddy wailed.
“I just took a bite.”
“You touched it!”
“Helen, eat your cereal,” Jill said mechanically.
“It’s soggy.”
Helen coolly took another bite of Teddy’s waffle. He shouted in outrage. Peepers barked in support. Jill sighed. The household always took a turn toward chaos when Henry was out of town. But just as she was rebuking him in her mind, her iPad buzzed, and there was Henry, calling on FaceTime.
“Did you read my mind?” she asked. “I was telepathically summoning you.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Henry said, hearing the argument and the barking in the background.
“I was going to cuss you out for not being here.”
“Let me talk to them.”
Immediately Teddy and Helen subsided into adorableness. It was a kind of magic trick, Jill thought, a spell that Henry cast over them. Peepers wagged his tail in adoration.
“Daddy, when are you coming home?” Teddy demanded.
“Tuesday night, very late,” Henry said.
“Mom said you’d be here tomorrow.”
“I thought I would, but my plans suddenly changed. But don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for your birthday.”
Teddy cheered, and Helen clapped her hands. It was impressive. Jill could never calm the waters like Henry. Maybe I’m too ironic, she thought. It must be Henry’s total sincerity when he speaks to the children that subdues them. Somehow, they know they are safe. Jill felt that way, too.
“I made a robot,” Teddy reported, holding up the iPad to display the conglomeration of plastic parts, electrical circuitry, and an old cell phone that he had put together for the science fair. The skeletal face had a pair of camera lenses for eyes. Jill thought it looked like a Day of the Dead doll.
“You did this by yourself?” said Henry.
Teddy nodded, his face radiant with pride.
“What do you call him?”
Teddy turned to the robot. “Robot, what is your name?”
The robot’s head tilted slightly. “Master, my name is Albert,” he said. “I belong to Teddy.”
“Holy smoke! That’s amazing!” Henry said. “He calls you ‘Master’?”
Teddy giggled and tucked his chin the way he did when he was really happy.
“My turn!” Helen said, grabbing the iPad.
“Hello, my beautiful girl,” said Henry. “You must have a game today.”
Helen was on the sixth-grade girls’ soccer team. “They want me to play goalie,” she said.
“That’s great, right?”
“It’s boring. You just stand there. They only want me to do it because I’m tall.”
“But you get to be the hero every time you save a goal.”
“They all hate me if I don’t.”
This was typical Helen, Jill thought. Where Teddy was sunny, Helen was dark. Pessimism oozed out of her, giving her an odd kind of power. Jill had observed that her classmates were a little fearful of her judgment. That quality, along with her fine features, made her an object of adoration among the girls and a troubling beacon to the pubescent boys.
“I heard the part about not coming home,” Jill said, when she had the chance to talk again. Henry looked tired. In the chiaroscuro of the iPad, he resembled a portrait of a nineteenth-century Austrian nobleman, with his penetrating gaze behind round spectacles. In the background she could hear flights being called.
“It’s probably nothing, but it’s one of those things,” Henry said.
“Where this time?”
“Indonesia.”
“Oh, Lord,” Jill said, letting the worry get ahead of her. “Kids, finish up, the bus is coming.” Then to Henry: “You haven’t been sleeping, have you? I wish you would take some Ambien and just conk