The Evening News by Tony Ardizzone Page A

ever asks me why we agreed for it to be born—” He hesitates. His eyes search the darkness for the answer. “I’ll say I thought having a chance to live was better than no chance, even if we live to see the world destroyed.”
    Maria laughs, terrified. “I can just see it. The bombs will be falling down around our heads and you’ll be explaining all of that to our baby.”
    â€œI’ll be digging a hole, Maria. I’ll wear the colander on my head. You and the baby bring the cans of beans. We’ll do what we can to survive.”
    â€œI’ll just stand in the backyard and hold my baby and weep.”
    â€œNo, you won’t.” Paul shakes her shoulders. “We’ll struggle. We’re not cynics. We’ll march in the streets. We’ll influence opinion. We’ll do what we must to survive.” He takes her in his arms and holds her tightly.
    Maria feels his arms around her and relaxes, thinking about her coming baby. Choose us, she prays, because we’re not cynics. Choose us because Paul is so stubborn. Because I’ll hold you to my breast until I die. The idea of holding her child gives her comfort, and Maria imagines that at this moment a very special and wise and trusting soul chooses the body floating in the warm waters of her womb. She believes she can feel the soul as it enters her body. Yes. The child within her stirs. Tears of wonder fall from her eyes.
    Paul feels Maria’s tears and thinks she is despairing. “Please,” he says. “Let’s not think anymore. Maria, please.”
    She cries freely now, rejoicing.
    Paul goes on thinking. He gives full play to his doubts. Maybe this
is
the very worst moment to be alive, especially in America, the eye of the dragon, belly of the beast. Maybe this
is
the absolutely worst moment to have the audacity to givebirth to an innocent. Maria’s shoulders shake with what Paul thinks is great sadness.
    He stares past her at the television squatting smugly in the corner of the room. Before the end comes, he thinks, everyone will see it, in living color, splashed across a hundred million TV screens. The multicolored maps, areas of greatest risk, perhaps even the warheads’ trajectories. Certainly the assurance that the war is winnable. Certainly the glib warnings to stay calm. Maria is filled with joy. I’ll make the colors so intense they’ll blind me, he thinks. I’ll turn up the volume until I grow deaf. He squeezes Maria so fiercely that she makes a squeak. Then I’ll open all the windows, and I’ll throw open the front door, and I’ll turn on the water in the bathroom and the kitchen, and I’ll flick on every light, turn on the stereo, the oven, the furnace, the air conditioner— Then I’ll wait in the backyard with Maria, with our baby. Paul’s nightmare stops. His hand reaches down and touches the swelling roundness of Maria’s belly. She is soft and warm, happy, in his arms. He feels the darkest despair he has ever known.
    The curtains over the open window next to them billow suddenly like an enormous cloud.

My Father’s Laugh
    My name is Thaddeus Alexander Cooper III, but you can call me Thaddeus. I’m sitting here in Marsha’s bedroom looking out the window and writing this, and I’m wondering when it’s going to rain. I know that it will rain. That and the fact that I’m writing this to save my goddamn life are the only two things I’m certain of. So try to hear me out. And realize, as well, that I plan to milk this. For all that I can get. You’ve been warned. As my father, may his dear dead soul rest forever in peace, always used to say, “Move away from the window, lady, can’t you see I’m driving?” I ask that you give me room.
    My mother once told me, “Thaddeus, someday you’re going to meet someone who’s just a little bit bigger than you are and he’s going to