problems. She knew that his work ethic had extended the job with the Maintenance Department into the current part-time position. It was just that, as tends to happen between spouses who stop communicating on a genuine level, the stress of the shrinking stipend budget had slowly crept into an unspoken distance between them.
Corinne was a pretty natural blonde of average height, who had soft, rounded facial features highlighted by piercing, ice-blue eyes. Over the past few years she had gotten just a little heavy for a woman of twenty-two. Most of the weight having been gained during her pregnancy with Rebecca, Daniel tending to her every whim and craving and she just did not get enough exercise to lose the troublesome weight. Daniel suspected that a mild case of depression about this had added a little to the distance between them too.
By any means they were not cold to one another. Daniel and Corinne still loved to talk as long as it was about other people or to plan activities for Rebecca. He struggled with being a stay-at-home dad most of the time and she struggled with the constant belt-tightening. Both of the formerly avid lovers struggled with the lack of privacy that before the birth of Rebecca had been taken for granted. A deep love for their daughter kept any arguments they had quiet and short.
Daniel descended the stairs with an agility that showed his twenty three years. With broad shoulders and narrow hips, he stood just over six feet two inches tall and found himself weighing-in at over 200 pounds for the first time in his life. Strong cheek bones and a sharp jaw line sat beneath pensive, worry-lined, brown eyes. His muscles were like taut cables stretched over, what some considered to be, a thin skeletal frame. Lack of steady work had let all of his nagging injuries heal. That same lack of work had also given him a slight paunch and sprouted the first onset of grays into otherwise short, brown hair.
Daniel spotted his daughter sitting in the dark quietly painting impressionist art in her corner, which was now completely dedicated to childhood diversions. Coming up to his waist Rebecca shared her mother’s hair color and father’s narrow frame and deep-set, brown eyes. It was obvious that she was going to get nothing but more beautiful as she aged; a disturbing thought for a father. Daniel couldn't help but smile when he addressed her, "Hi, Bugs! Why don’t you have a light?”
"Daddy! You home?" Rebecca beamed, her white teeth shining like a beacon. “I was gonna ask Mom…”
“No problem, sweetie,” Daniel sighed. “And, yep, I'm home. Are you hungry at all?” he asked, knowing that her question was really a statement of true joy for his return.
"Oh, I thought…” She shot a glance at the now lit lantern hanging from the ceiling. “Can I have a pickle?" Rebecca, completely unfazed by the unnecessary inconvenience, vocalized the first item that she could think of which qualified as food.
"No way, honey. You need to eat something good…Understand? How about I make us some fried egg sandwiches with…,” Daniel fumbled trying to open the bags, “some chips?" he posed, revealing the tell-tale, oil-stained brown paper bag. He was trying hard to find the line of compromise between nourishing and palatable to a four year-old girl.
"Okay," Rebecca sighed, the prospect of getting some fresh chips and her general level of hunger being the reasons for the rare, easy resignation. Stubbornness was something else that she shared with her mother.
"All-righty, give me a minute," Daniel said, the warmth evident in his voice and eyes.
Twelve years ago his father had done all of the finishing work on the basement himself and his mother decorated it in the rustic style. Being so far underwater on their mortgage, selling was not an option for them in the faltering economy of the time and the family only got one year to enjoy the new basement before the foreclosure came. A year later with the world burning around him at only thirteen years of age, Daniel was the only one who would move back in full-time.
He set the bag of brick-a-brak down outside the storeroom and walked the food across the 30’x50’ main room of the basement. The floor was covered in cropped, brown carpet that seemed to float beneath the transition with the walls, which were painted a companionable, lively-green paint. The door leading into the storeroom behind him went back alongside the stairs and