Winter's Regret

by Matt Sinclair

  Her bedroom came next. The occasional nightmare still skirted through the minds of the little hands even though they had grown bigger. Sleeping downstairs while remodeling her bedroom meant she had her bed to herself, always. The ancient staircase, pitch black in the night, was more frightening than their dreams and they stopped seeking her out, turning instead to each other for comfort. No little legs kicking her or faint snores meant solid hours of sleep after long days of work, followed by laboring in the house. She decided to leave her bed downstairs indefinitely.

  The outdoors was a wreck, and it fell under her critical eye. She hauled in boulders and mulch, bought thousands of bulbs, and put trowels to hands that had somehow grown nearly as large as her own. She worked through the hot hours with the sun high in the sky. Sweat dripped from her hair and streaked her face, making her temper short. When the little hands started to complain, she sent them inside to the air conditioning so she could work in peace. When the bulbs came up in the spring, she didn't let little hands pick the flowers, for it would ruin the landscape.

  Perfection still loomed somewhere out of reach. Stencils that had been daintily sketched onto the walls a decade before needed retouching, faucets that had lost their gleam of newness over the years began to leak. Peeling laminate in the bathroom had to come up. New floor wasn't easy to install and little hands took to sharing the upstairs bathroom instead, their fingers now handling curling irons and eyeliner. They left her space to her even after she installed the Jacuzzi.

  Winter came, blanketing the weedless lawn with a quilt of white, uninterrupted snow. The little hands were away at college and no footprints broke the undulating hills of white.

  She sat in her perfect home staring at the blankness, and was lonely.

  Adrift by Matt Sinclair

  "Why is there a bowl full of cars in the refrigerator?" My wife pulled the small collection of Matchboxes out as though she needed to explain her question to me.

  Ellie ran into the kitchen. "Thanks, Mom," she said as she grabbed the bowl. "Bye, Mom."

  In her haste, a car fell out and landed at my feet. She picked it up. "Oh! Hey, Dad." Apparently I had materialized without her notice. "Can I go to Jeb's? We're going to play cars."

  I glanced at my wife, who shrugged her shoulders, tilted her head, and curled her lips. I read that as "What do I care?"

  I checked my watch. "Yes, but be home by 7."

  "Yessss!" she said, with a fist pump. She took two quick steps then stopped. "What time is it now?"

  "Just after six. Take it or leave it."

  Cue the eye roll followed by the dejected departure and door slam.

  I turned to my wife. "Knowing her penchant for telling time, we probably have a good hour and a half. Fancy a Friday night quickie?"

  She fanned herself with a hand. "Be still my heart, Mr. Romance. You think I really want to risk creating another one of those?"

  Having my wife attack my sense of romance was worse than her rejecting my advances outright. "I was serious."

  Candace walked past me. "That's what I was afraid of. Doug, I'm not in the mood for a little afternoon delight."

  "Technically, it's evening."

  She slid into her favorite spot on the couch, picked up a National Enquirer, and flipped through a few pages. "Technically? There's some technician who works that out?" She tried to speak with a baritone: "Oh, it's 6:05 in the late summer. We have 40 percent degradation of sunlight intensity over the past thirty-five minutes. All right, people, it's officially evening. You can crack open a beer as long as you're staying for dinner."

  I took that as a no.

  * * *

  After my Saturday morning jog, I made coffee and planned my day with Ellie. It was a routine we'd started when she was a baby and I was a proud new papa. Back then, we'd go shopping—stock up on diapers and formula, maybe get a cake to celebrate something silly—and spend an hour or so at a playground. Once she was old enough, we'd ride bikes together or go for a hike in the woods. Saturday was Daddy Day, and I cherished it. And at least once every month or two, I'd splurge on a babysitter and take Candace out to dinner. God, I loved Saturdays.

  The best nights were when we would go dancing. Candace floated across dance floors, while I bobbed happily in her wake. She would smile and laugh and could turn the mundane moments of our lives into memories by whispering them in my ears. She could dance to karaoke singers if the mood hit her right, and when it did she and I became one. Her joy overtook me. Love was a Saturday night. I'm fairly certain Ellie was created on a Saturday night.

  Of course, when the economy tanked, Saturdays got expensive and the splurging was less frequent. Sometimes the three of us would visit Candace's sister. Ellie got to play with her cousins, her mom and I had a little adult time—well, time with people who should have been adults. Our brother-in-law had entwined Candace's sister in his cos-play hobby, and they were often hanging out with us in costume or while cutting or gluing costumes in the living room. How they could afford their hobby with two kids, I'll never know. But they always seemed to have fun with it, and no one threw a better Halloween party, so I suppose it was worth dealing with the quirks of family.

  Sometimes when we were there, Candace would tease me and ask what I'd like to see her dressed up as. The question always surprised me, and I never had an answer. I just lifted my eyebrows and smiled.

  I looked at the paper, a balloon festival that was an hour or so west of us that caught my eye. Ellie was eight. How many more years did I have to do this kind of stuff with her? How long before Jeb next door traded in his toys for a real Mustang or Corvette or whatever would pass for a muscle car at that point? I was about to fill my empty mug when Ellie padded in and turned on the television for cartoons.

  "You want some cereal?" I asked.

  "Sure, thanks."

  "Fruity sugar, chocolatey sugar, or flakes covered in sugar?"

  "Well, you're obviously flaky today, so I'll go with fruity."

  I loved when she had a clever comeback. "Coming right up!"

  I pulled the bowl and box of cereal out of the cabinets and told her my plans. "I was thinking about you and me heading to the balloon festival today."

  No response, but that was fairly typical. I poured the milk, slid a spoon in the bowl, prepared a glass of orange juice, and delivered the meal to my princess.

  "Balloons?" she asked. "These aren't little kid balloons, right?"

  God, when did she start getting concerned about being perceived as a baby? I thought about it for a second and realized she was probably calling herself a big girl by age three. "No, honey, I mean the type people ride in. It's pretty amazing to see dozens of huge balloons of all shapes and sizes floating in the sky."

  She turned to me, a spoonful of crunchy cereal in her mouth. "Can Jeb come?" she asked without dripping too much milk.

  I nodded. "As long as it's okay with his parents, I'm fine with it."

  "Cool!" she said as she placed her bowl back on the table. "I'll go see if he can come." She stood up and turned toward the front door.

  "Hold your horses. First, eat breakfast. Then you get dressed. If you'd like, I can call his mom now."

  "No, I want to see the look on his face when I ask."

  I smiled. "Eat your breakfast."

  I poured coffee for Candace. Whether it was the aroma or just the fact that I was in the room, she awoke as I delivered her mug. "Thanks, hon. That smells terrific."

  "You're welcome."

  She stretched under the covers. "Big Saturday plans with Ellie?"

  "There's a balloon festival out west. She's asking Jeb to come. Care to join us?"

  She didn't think about it. "No, thanks. I know how much you love your Daddy Days."

  I wasn't surprised, but I stared in my coffee feeling like a rejected suitor, nonetheless. "It's always more fun with you," I said.

  "Maybe next time. I was planning to call my sister. I haven't spoken to her since they got back from their conventio
n."

  I started to walk out of the room.

  "Thanks again for the coffee," she said.

  * * *

  Not only did Jeb's mother say yes, she asked if she and her husband could join us. "The more the merrier," I said.

  "Is Candace coming, too?" she asked.

  "Not this time." It was moments like that I felt like I was missing something. There was a tone to her question that made me think she knew the answer was no. But Candace worked hard and needed her down time too. She was a part-time office manager. She wanted to go full-time, but we thought we'd wait till Ellie was a little older. Ok, truth be told, that was something we disagreed on. I thought we should wait till Ellie was at least ten, but maybe I was holding my wife back. Maybe that was what I was picking up on. Perhaps Candace and Jeb's mom had talked.

  "If you'd like, we can drive," Jeb's father said. They drove one of those chic SUVs that fit a dozen more people than my old sedan. "That way the five of us can go in one car."

  I thought about it for a moment. "Thanks, but I kind of like having the flexibility to leave whenever."

  Jeb's dad nodded. "I understand. That's fine."

  "But, I want to go with Jeb," Ellie whined.

  Neither of them said it, but I could read the "Awwww" on the face of both Jeb's parents.

  "Am I losing my navigator? My comrade in arms?"

  She curled around herself as though I was twisting her in knots.

  I had an idea. "How about I take you and Jeb and let his parents have some time together."

  Jeb looked at his folks, whose beaming faces suggested to me that they liked my idea. "It's fine with us either way," his dad said.

  "Sure," the boy said.

  Ellie smiled, grabbed Jeb's hand, and led him to the back seat.

  I discussed driving routes and exchanged phone numbers with Jeb's parents, in case we got lost, and then I got into my car.

  "Oh, wait," Ellie said. "I forgot to say bye to mom."

  "Hustle up, kiddo," I said. While she was gone, I tried to make small talk with Jeb. Poor kid squirmed in his seat. Ellie returned, her cheek still wet from Candace's patented raspberry kisses, and Jeb spurted with conversation.

  Before we left, I checked the fuel gauge. The tank was nearly full. A week or so ago, Candace asked if she could borrow twenty bucks to get some gas in her car.

  "Borrow?" I said as I handed her the money. "It's our money; you don't need to pay me back."

  "I just haven't had a chance to get to the bank."

  I nodded. Was there a better way to ask me for money without sounding like I'm an ass who keeps her on some sort of allowance, like she's a child? How often does she say things to save me from recognizing that I'm a jerk, I wondered. I handed her the rest of the cash in my wallet—about twenty-five bucks. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's easy for me to get to the bank by my office. You could probably use some pocket cash, too."

  I half expected a snarky remark, but there wasn't one. She just thanked me and patted me on the shoulder. Judging by the gauge now, she probably filled the tank—a luxury these days.

  * * *

  The drive out was not quite what I expected. Ellie and Jeb chatted with each other the entire way, discussing their cars and the games they'd been playing the past few days. I was just the chauffeur. I was a little disappointed that I could see the beginning of the end of Daddy Days, but I was happy she and Jeb got along so well. Just kids being kids.

  A few miles from the fairgrounds I noticed a small armada of colors and shapes against the slowly clouding sky and pointed them out to the kids. "Cool!" Jeb said. "I didn't realize they were going to be all different."

  "Wow!" Ellie cried. "There's a tiger and a whale and an elephant. This is cool, Daddy!"

  I smiled. It was exactly the reaction I'd hoped for from her. Plus, it made me feel better that she was able to share it with Jeb. I turned to the empty passenger seat beside me. I missed Candace. I felt exceptionally hungry, too, like my belly needed filling immediately. The traffic slowed into a line entering the fairgrounds.

  "Look at that one," Ellie said. "It looks like one of Uncle Eric's costumes."

  I glanced into the sky, careful not to lose my attention on the car in front of me. Floating not far from Elmo, the Grinch, and Mickey Mouse was an anime superhero. Or super villain; I don't really know. It was purple, had a helmet, and probably had a name, too.

  "Your uncle makes costumes?" Jeb asked.

  "Yeah, my aunt, too. They do conventions and win prizes."

  I looked at Ellie in the rearview mirror. Prizes? Seriously?

  "Cool!" Jeb said.

  I caught Ellie looking toward me and whispering something to Jeb. The boy looked at me in the rearview. I felt like I'd been accused of something.

  * * *

  We parked beside Jeb's parents and the five of us wandered around together. Some balloons weren't up yet, and we watched as they were inflated. Ellie and Jeb each covered their ears and laughed as whooshes of gas filled the languid balloons. The sound only made me feel hungrier, and I scanned the grounds for some place serving food. Ellie and Jeb held each other's hands. A soft breeze caught my hand. The chill surprised me.

  I saw a concession stand. "Anyone else hungry?"

  Jeb's parents shook their heads.

  "Nope, I'm fine, Dad," Ellie said.

  "I'm starving," I said. "I'll catch up with you guys, then."

  There were no objections, and Ellie flashed her beautiful smile to me as she waved. She was having fun. For a moment, I was amazed at how much she looked like her mother.

  I ate in silence, listening to other folks as they passed me. I'm not one for people-watching, but these strangers fascinated me. I could tell which couples were happy and which were just going through the motions.

  "It's only for two years," I heard one man say. "That's not really very long." The woman with him looked up at the sky. And not at the balloons.

  They were passed by another couple in an obvious argument. "Why is this so hard? I told you my 5:30 meeting was cancelled. I came right home. It takes me an hour to get home at the best of times."

  A pair of college-age kids flashed into view. I couldn't help but notice that the guy's hand was partially down the back of his girlfriend's cutoff jeans. I turned away when I heard a series of cries and cheers. One more loud whoosh of gas and fire blasted into the air as a large yellow smiley face lifted off, not fifty feet from where I stood. How had I not noticed it before, I wondered.

  "She's something else, isn't she?" said a voice beside me

  I turned to see Jeb's dad and jumped.

  "Sorry to startle you," he said. "Ellie asked me to find you."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No, no. Nothing at all. I figure she missed you. I offered to see where you were."

  We both looked at the smiley balloon as it rose higher. I could see up the funnel now and glimpse the whirling heated air as it continued to inflate the craft. My stomach felt as empty as it had earlier. Not worse. Just empty.

  "Actually, I'm glad you did," I said to Jeb's dad. "I'm not feeling all that great. I thought I was hungry, but now I don't think so. I should head home. If it's okay with you, could I leave Ellie with you guys? She and Jeb were having such a good time. I wouldn't want to mess that up for her."

  He seemed surprised. "Of course. Are you sure you're okay to drive? I can let my wife stay with the kids and drive you home in your car."

  "That's very kind. I think I'll be fine. If I need one, I'm sure I can find a pit stop."

  He nodded as if he understood. "No problem." I thanked him and we shook hands. I offered him $20 to take care of anything Ellie might want to eat. He refused to take it.

  "No, please. I'm sure you'll be doing the same in return soon enough. Jeb and Ellie look like they're going to be friends forever."

  "I'm sure they will." After another glance at the smiling balloon, I let him know I was heading home.

  Before I'd reached the
car, my phone rang.

  "Daddy, are you okay?" Ellie asked.

  "I'll be fine, honey. My tummy's not feeling right, and I just feel like I need to head home. I don't want to ruin your fun with Jeb."

  "I can come home with you."

  I smiled. She was still my little girl. "No, honey, enjoy the balloons, and when you get home, maybe there'll be time for you, me, and Mommy to get some ice cream or something."

  "Okay," she said, sounding unconvinced.

  "Tell you what," I continued, "if I feel better tomorrow, I'll take you anywhere you want."

  "Anywhere?" Her voice took on a slightly sinister tone, as though she was going to challenge me and push against my comfort zone.

  "As long as it's not so far that we can't get home afterward and have dinner with mommy."

  "Okay," she said. "I'll miss you, Daddy."

  "Miss you, too, kiddo. Have fun with Jeb."

  * * *

  "I missed you," I said when Candace opened the door.

  "You don't need to ring the doorbell. Where's Ellie?"

  I handed her the bouquet of flowers I'd gotten on the way home. "May I come in?"

  She laughed, which made me smile. "What's gotten into you?"

  I stood just inside the doorway. "I didn't quite see it till Ellie and I were out at the fairgrounds watching the balloons. You and I have been drifting lately."

  "That's very cute, Doug, and thank you for the flowers, but—"

  I cut her off before she could say more. "I love you, Candy. I know that's not always enough, but I wanted to make sure I said that up front."

  She was silent, her eyes seeking something behind mine.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "What for?"

  "For wearing you down. For pushing so we could have Ellie."

  She held her hands out like a traffic cop. "Don't you dare," she said.

  "I was selfish."

  A tear was running down her cheek. "Shut up!" The sound echoed through our home. In an odd way, it reminded me of when we first walked in, when there was nothing but shag carpet on the floors and 1970s wallpaper on the walls. "Stop talking. Don't say another damn thing."