MAC AND CHEESE AND PEAS 

It was Thursday afternoon in late October. The hour hadn’t yet rewound but daylight was increasingly precious; only 6:20 and already it was deep dusk as Bill limped home, east along the 401, in his silver Subaru. The traffic was predictably glacial, and slower still when he off-ramped north up Leslie. He could have been forgiven for wondering whether — paradoxically, asymptotically — despite drawing steadily, fractionally closer, he might never reach home at all: just half the distance, then half the distance of that. And so on. In fact, tonight home was a destination he wasn’t keen to reach. Instead of jealously guarding the space between his car and the one in front, tonight he was magnanimous towards cutters-in. Please sir, go ahead; after you madam, I insist. Maybe if things slowed to a dead halt the kid would be in bed by the time he arrived and it would be too late for the chat.

He prayed for an accident up ahead: nothing serious, no injuries, but enough of a mess to tie things up for an hour or two. How many fender-benders were just men delaying the inevitable, preferring the hassle and the deductible to whatever awaited them at the kitchen table?

—

He pulled into the driveway. Harvey was raking the leaves on their joint patch of lawn. Harvey was good like that. Harvey and his wife Jan both. Friendly but not in your business. Bill cut the engine, grabbed his coat off the passenger seat, stepped out and shut the door.

“Hey,” said Bill, and then said thanks, pointing to the pile of leaves. Harvey said no problem and Bill said I’ll get the next one. But it occurred to him that by the time of the next one he’d be out, moved into the two-bedroom apartment he’d secured near Sheppard and Bayview. A one-year lease during which they’d finalize the settlement terms and after which he’d figure out his next move, real estate-wise. Maybe I’ll still come round to rake the leaves, he thought.

Harvey said what’s Ellie going to be for Halloween.

Harvey and Jan had been trying to get pregnant for a while now. Since before Ellie was born.

Bill said she wants to be Pocahontas but that’s racist so I don’t know. Tara tried explaining it to her, but she doesn’t understand. I mean, she’s five what do you expect. Harvey said I don’t really get it either to tell you the truth and Bill said who knows.

Harvey said Halloween’s getting harder on Jan. Each year we don’t get pregnant it’s like another reminder, another year lost.

Bill said that’s rough.

Harvey said I told her let’s go away. Montreal or Ottawa or something. But she thinks doing that is giving up somehow, admitting defeat. She’ll be handing out treats at the door and trying not to ball. It kills me.

Then Harvey brightened or pretended to and said hey tell Ellie to save our house for last. I don’t want to miss her. Plus I think Jan got her some extra goodies.

Bill said ok will do. It hit him that he was going to have to break the news to Harvey. Or not. Tara would tell Jan soon enough. Harvey would be crushed. Even though they weren’t the best of friends, still, between the four of them they’d developed a real mutual admiration society. Bill thought maybe I should tell him now and went quiet as he stumbled over words in his mind. But Harvey saved him, gesturing to Bill’s front door and saying anyway don’t let me hold you up, I’m sure the girls are waiting.

Bill said yeah talk to you later, thanks again for the leaves, and he climbed the steps to the front porch, sifting through the keys on his ring, digging out the one for the door. At the top step he stopped, turned around. Saw Harvey with the rake. Surveyed the street, modestly populated with poplars and maples, and small unremarkable homes, here on the outer fringes of the city limits, the north-easternmost quadrant of north-eastern North York. The sheer ordinariness of it moved him deeply. He felt a bit like an actor in a final performance, taking a moment to appreciate that, beautiful as all of this is, tomorrow the sets will be struck.

—

He put the key in the lock and he turned it, slow as he could, like a safecracker. He heard the soft click of the latch. He gripped the round brass knob but didn’t turn it. He leaned his head against the door. He heard music coming from inside. Voices. He must’ve stood there for a full minute before opening the door.

“Dada!” shrieked Ellie who ran towards him from the kitchen, where Tara was filling a pot with water.

“Hello girls,” he said, sweeping the kid up in a hug.

The scene was so normal he had half a mind to come up to Tara and kiss her hello. As he put down his things and hung up his coat, Ellie told him about how she was a pilot at recess and she flew across the whole world, I even flew past your office, she told him.

You know, he said, I thought I heard a plane buzzing past my window. That was me! she said. I waved but you didn’t see me. They agreed that next time she would do a bunch of loop-de-loops until he notices so he can wave back.

Setting the table, watching Tara dance with Ellie balanced on her feet, Bill asked himself, what am I doing? What are we doing?

—

They had Ellie’s favourite, mac and cheese and peas, and then they got quiet and said, honey, and broke her world.