you just dump me in the fucking front garden bed?”
Mark pointed at the end of the couch. “Look,” he said.
Nika did, and at the end of the couch by her feet lay Mark’s two bed pillows.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said. “Every time the wind blew across the plastic, it was such a weird noise. Kept me up. But you were exhausted and it seemed stupid to wake you up just so you could go back to sleep. I just crashed out here with you.”
“What time is it?” Nika asked.
“Around ten,” Mark said. “Would you mind taking this coffee? It’s burning my hand.”
Nika scooted off the couch and took the mug from Mark’s hand. He sniffed the air, and then hurried back into the kitchen. “And I’m burning your pancakes!”
Nika giggled and followed him, taking a seat at their two week old kitchen table. Mark was cute when he cooked, stomping about the cooking space like he knew what he was doing. He would mumble at the pans and sweat. It was like watching a kid with a broken arm attempt to make a special treat for Mother’s Day.
Finally, Mark was able to plate three pancakes that weren’t burnt beyond recognition. He got some butter out of the refrigerator and put it on the table. Then he opened one cabinet, then another, then another. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the cabinets. “There’s no syrup. Goddammit. All this and no fucking syrup.” He closed a cabinet door, snorted, then punched it.
“Mark!” Nika came down off her chair and went to her husband’s side.
“It’s the simple things, you know?” Mark said. “Going to sleep. Making a decent breakfast, you know, without forgetting the fucking syrup. Keeping your wife safe in her brand new fucking house. You know, just easy shit, things you do without even thinking about them. And suddenly none of it makes sense, and it all seems incredibly fucking difficult, and I feel hamstrung, Nika. I feel helpless, and we’re in a fucking blast zone! There’s no one else here! I mean, we can’t really blame it on neighborhood kids. There aren’t any! It’s ridiculous!”
Nika slid around behind him, put her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m okay,” she said. “I am. I’m okay, you’re okay and everything is going to be fine. We’ll fix what’s broken and we will carry on from there. Okay? Together. We’ll do it together.”
Mark hung his head and breathed deeply until he was calm. It took a couple minutes. He wasn’t normally one to hit things, and he was a little embarrassed by his outburst. Also, his hand hurt from the impact.
“Feel better, big man?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A little. Go on. Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold. I think there’s some apple butter in the refrigerator. That would be good instead of syrup.”
She kissed his shoulder with a loud smack. “I agree!” she said, and opened the refrigerator door to find the apple butter.
There were three sharp knocks on the front door. Nika’s brow furrowed. “Are you expecting someone, Mark?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah!” Mark said. “Before I attempted to make breakfast, I called a glass company for an estimate. I know the plastic curtains are fashionable, but I thought we could get a real window anyway.” He jogged into the living room while Nika ate her pancakes.
The man on the front step had a peanut butter tan and a perpetual squint. He smiled when Mark opened the door. “Hey, buddy!” he said. “Looks like you need a new window.”
“What was your first clue?” Mark asked.
The man chuckled and stuck out his hand. “Tommy Clark from Tommy’s Glass. You Mr. Pendleton?”
Mark shook the man’s hand. “Yes, sir. Good to meet you.”
Tommy motioned towards the shattered front window. “Is this the only injured party?”
“Yeah, somebody heaved a brick through it.”
Tommy whistled through his teeth. “Shit! We don’t get that around here often at all. Usually, somebody gets hammered during a ball game or the
Mark pointed at the end of the couch. “Look,” he said.
Nika did, and at the end of the couch by her feet lay Mark’s two bed pillows.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said. “Every time the wind blew across the plastic, it was such a weird noise. Kept me up. But you were exhausted and it seemed stupid to wake you up just so you could go back to sleep. I just crashed out here with you.”
“What time is it?” Nika asked.
“Around ten,” Mark said. “Would you mind taking this coffee? It’s burning my hand.”
Nika scooted off the couch and took the mug from Mark’s hand. He sniffed the air, and then hurried back into the kitchen. “And I’m burning your pancakes!”
Nika giggled and followed him, taking a seat at their two week old kitchen table. Mark was cute when he cooked, stomping about the cooking space like he knew what he was doing. He would mumble at the pans and sweat. It was like watching a kid with a broken arm attempt to make a special treat for Mother’s Day.
Finally, Mark was able to plate three pancakes that weren’t burnt beyond recognition. He got some butter out of the refrigerator and put it on the table. Then he opened one cabinet, then another, then another. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the cabinets. “There’s no syrup. Goddammit. All this and no fucking syrup.” He closed a cabinet door, snorted, then punched it.
“Mark!” Nika came down off her chair and went to her husband’s side.
“It’s the simple things, you know?” Mark said. “Going to sleep. Making a decent breakfast, you know, without forgetting the fucking syrup. Keeping your wife safe in her brand new fucking house. You know, just easy shit, things you do without even thinking about them. And suddenly none of it makes sense, and it all seems incredibly fucking difficult, and I feel hamstrung, Nika. I feel helpless, and we’re in a fucking blast zone! There’s no one else here! I mean, we can’t really blame it on neighborhood kids. There aren’t any! It’s ridiculous!”
Nika slid around behind him, put her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m okay,” she said. “I am. I’m okay, you’re okay and everything is going to be fine. We’ll fix what’s broken and we will carry on from there. Okay? Together. We’ll do it together.”
Mark hung his head and breathed deeply until he was calm. It took a couple minutes. He wasn’t normally one to hit things, and he was a little embarrassed by his outburst. Also, his hand hurt from the impact.
“Feel better, big man?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A little. Go on. Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold. I think there’s some apple butter in the refrigerator. That would be good instead of syrup.”
She kissed his shoulder with a loud smack. “I agree!” she said, and opened the refrigerator door to find the apple butter.
There were three sharp knocks on the front door. Nika’s brow furrowed. “Are you expecting someone, Mark?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah!” Mark said. “Before I attempted to make breakfast, I called a glass company for an estimate. I know the plastic curtains are fashionable, but I thought we could get a real window anyway.” He jogged into the living room while Nika ate her pancakes.
The man on the front step had a peanut butter tan and a perpetual squint. He smiled when Mark opened the door. “Hey, buddy!” he said. “Looks like you need a new window.”
“What was your first clue?” Mark asked.
The man chuckled and stuck out his hand. “Tommy Clark from Tommy’s Glass. You Mr. Pendleton?”
Mark shook the man’s hand. “Yes, sir. Good to meet you.”
Tommy motioned towards the shattered front window. “Is this the only injured party?”
“Yeah, somebody heaved a brick through it.”
Tommy whistled through his teeth. “Shit! We don’t get that around here often at all. Usually, somebody gets hammered during a ball game or the
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