The Things We Wish Were True by Marybeth Mayhew Whalen

put this bag together; Zell had. He wondered if he could hire her to come over and create this same degree of organization in every aspect of his life. Maybe this was why Debra had liked her. Now that she was gone, he remembered how often Debra used to mention Zell, back when he didn’t pay attention because he took everything for granted. He’d barely listened to his wife then. He wasn’t sure what role Zell had played in Debra’s life, and of course, he couldn’t ask Debra now.
    “Lilah,” he called, “let’s go!” He wanted the kids gone. He wanted the house quiet. He’d promised himself he would not work today. He would take a true break. Watch sports—it didn’t matter which sport, anything on ESPN would do—drink beer, sit around in his boxers. He would not be Dad today. He would not hop up to solve anyone’s problems. He would sit for longer than a five-minute stretch. At lunch, he would make a big, messy hoagie sandwich and devour it on the couch. He would not use a plate. He would burp and fart and not have to apologize for it because he would be no one’s role model for a good couple of hours. He had fantasized about this time nearly as much as he used to fantasize about sex.
    Who was he kidding? He still fantasized about sex. When he wasn’t too damn tired to do so. But he did not fantasize about Debra. He couldn’t bring himself to do that. It just seemed wrong. The women he fantasized about now were always faceless.
    The kids materialized from wherever they’d been keeping themselves, their faces as drawn as if he were sending them off to do math problems all day. “You guys ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together, ignoring his children’s obvious displeasure.
    Lilah and Alec nodded glumly.
    “OK, well, Zell said to come on over whenever you were ready!” He opened the door, a blast of hot air hitting him in the face as he did. On the heels of the early spring came the unrelenting heat and humidity of summer, something he’d never gotten used to and would not mind leaving behind if he got the chance to return to Ohio, something he’d been discussing with his sister lately. She thought it would be a good idea, considering the circumstances, and he didn’t entirely disagree.
    “Have fun, guys!” he said, waving them in the direction of Zell’s house.
    Obediently they trotted out the door. As Lilah passed him, he looped the bag over her capable shoulders, ignoring the way they slumped forward. This had been awful for the kids, too. Their summer vacation had probably not felt like a vacation at all. He tried not to think too much about their feelings. Because what could he do about it? What could he change? Debra was gone, and he was holding things together without her. He was doing the best he could. It had become his mantra.
    He closed the door behind them and paused to take in the quiet house, inhaling the silence like a drug. He stood utterly still, just breathing. Usually when Zell took the kids, he increased his pace, scurried around doing laundry and dishes and paying bills and squeezing in work wherever he could. He worked when he should be eating, sleeping, showering. Taking this time for himself felt decadent, wasteful, as luxurious as that spa Debra had convinced him to go to with her years ago. It felt . . . selfish. But he wouldn’t think about that now. He would enjoy this.
    He watched from the kitchen door as Zell ushered Lilah and Alec into her car. He stayed just out of sight as the car’s engine whirred into motion and the lights came on. He stood frozen in place until the car—and his children—were gone, feeling guilt wash over him as he thought of Alec’s words upon hearing that it would be Zell—and not Lance—who would be taking them to the pool today. “You never have fun with us anymore, Dad.”
    He’d told his son to quit whining, and yet, the kid had a point. Lance never had fun anymore. Period. He cast a longing glance at the TV and at the