instantly felt bad for referring to her son in the past tense.
“Sidney. After my father.”
“Man, that sucks.”
Marie took a drag off her smoke and blew extra hard at the ceiling. She ground the butt to death in an ashtray fashioned after a ship’s steering wheel.
I searched the compost of my past. No one really close to me had died. “My ex had a miscarriage.”
Marie winced. “That’s so sad.”
“It was a lot harder on her than it was on me, to be honest.”
“It’s hard on everyone. Was she far along?”
“Not at all.” I said it a little too easy-come-easy-go.
Marie thought I was trying to appear strong. “You shouldn’t downplay your feelings. It’s still devastating.”
“It’s nowhere near as bad as what you went through.”
She couldn’t bring herself to disagree with that. She treaded lightly. “Is that why it didn’t work out with you and—”
“Jocelyn.”
“Is that why?”
“Not exactly, but it didn’t help, you know?”
Marie shook her head. She knew. But what she knew and what I knew were like apples and orangutans. “Were you guys married?” she asked.
“Mm.”
“How long?”
“We were together for about three years.”
“After Sidney died, Jason and I tried to hang on.” She stared into her drink as she stirred.
“That sucks. How long’s it been since you guys split up?”
“Two years ago July.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean, what happened?” I think she was having second thoughts about me.
“I mean, did it just—” I was going to say “die.” “Did you stop loving each other?”
“No, but if we had a hundred years we wouldn’t have been able to work back to zero.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dig stuff up.”
“You didn’t. And anyway, I’d better be able to dig stuff up, right? Or this film is going to suck.” She laughed like she’d just cracked a joke from her hospice bed. “Hey, at least I don’t feel like killing myself anymore.”
“That’s good.”
She scared me.
I HAD A terrifying flash of Roy falling off the back of a boat and flailing in the ocean during his last minute of life. I shook my head like it was an Etch A Sketch I was trying to erase. In reality, Roy was kicking up a storm in the car seat because he didn’t want to leave me.
“More, more, more,” he cried. It sounded like “Moe, moe, moe.”
“It’s okay, pal,” I said through the driver’s-side window. I’d walked James and Roy to the car without first putting on a coat. “You’ll be back on Friday.”
James corrected me. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow and Friday.”
Two pinecones flammed against the hood of the Suburban like sparrows in a suicide pact.
“What time tomorrow?”
“Regular time, why?”
“I kind of have to be somewhere at eleven.”
“Where?”
“I might have a job.”
“You’re shitting me? ”
“No I’m not.”
“Sonovabitch.” James said. “Doing fucking what? ”
“I don’t want to say yet because I’m not sure if I have it, or if I even want it.”
“Fucking fuck.” He glanced in the rearview mirror to confirm that, yes, Roy existed. James was like a billion-dollar enterprise jeopardized by the failure of the three-dollar part. “Well, I hope you don’t get the job.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, I’m sorry, but if you can’t watch the kid, I’m screwed. For real.”
“I’ll still watch Roy for you. It’s only for a couple weeks, part-time.”
“Is it close by? Can you tell me that much or is that some big fucking secret, too?”
“Yes, very close by.”
“Hmm,” he said, trying to reconcile numbers in his head.
“I swear, James, if the job starts to get in the way—”
“You’re watching someone else’s kid for money, aren’t you?”
“Are you out of your mind? Look at me. I can barely keep myself clean.”
He wasn’t completely convinced.
“Dude,” I said. “Me having a job is not going to be a problem. I give you my word.”
“Well, I still hope you don’t get it. These kind of things never go smooth.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Well, they don’t.”
“I’ll see you later. I’m freezing.” I gave Roy two thumbs up, and started for the house.
“But what about tomorrow?”
I took a few more steps. I felt like sticking it to him a little bit. “What about it?”
“We on or what?”
“What do you think?”
“I thought we were on.”
“We’re still on.”
“And don’t forget, tonight’s trash night.”
THAT NIGHT I collected my garbage. It all fit easily into a white plastic convenience-store bag that said Thank You three times in red.
“No, thank you. Really, I appreciate it.” I tied a knot in the package. It looked like Johnny Appleseed’s do-rag luggage. I should have been wearing a fucking pot on my head as I ran across the front lawn in my