List: A Novel

Allowance

ALLOWANCE 79 The man’s mother meant well, offering money. Just a little, she said. In exchange. She needed help getting the laundry up and down the basement stairs. She said the man’s stepfather struggled with the garbage cans, not that he’d admit it. We’re getting old, she said. The man said, Okay. If you need me. He said he could come twice a week. But he had to get home after school, for the kids, and he had his own chores. And there was no way he’d take a cent. That’s ridiculous, he said. . Okay, his mother said. But you’ll take money for gas. @80 miles, RT x $3.50/gal $14.00 80²²² His stepfather asked if something happened. No, the man said. Of course not. Sometimes people just lose their jobs. He said, Blame the government. The economy . His mother wanted to know if he’d get unemployment insurance. Oh, she said, when he told her. Is that enough? . The man said the woman had a good job. They’d be fine. Good for the woman, they said, and the man agreed. Good for the woman. Good good, he said. And good for me. Now I can grow a beard, he said. Check out Internet porn. Probably I’ll start drinking, he said. . You’re upset, they said.²²² Who wouldn’t be upset? The man was out of a job, and work around the house didn’t pay—not the making of lasagna or the washing of crusty dishes. Not the grocery store trips or pre-treating T 81 of stains, the vacuuming, or scrubbing of toilets, the writing of checks, the driving of kids. Not the monitoring of homework. None of it paid a cent. And it was all he did.²²² Everyone agreed that Tuesdays were good, and Fridays, so most of those mornings the man dropped the kids at school and took the highway west, in the right lane, where he set the cruise and wondered why public radio got the low end of the FM band. He always called his parents on the way, to say he’d be there soon. The minivan was like a portable apartment, complete with sofas and chairs and a flat screen TV that dropped out of the ceiling. It had a plug-in cooler that served as a fridge. It warmed David down to his ass on the heated seat. It wouldn’t be paid off for years to come. But its comforts made the drive short, a half hour gone before David knew. His mother insisted on keeping count of his trips on a Hello Kitty notepad. She had bought the pad as a gift for the girl, but she said this was more important. The girl would have to understand , his mother said, and the man nodded. He didn’t say the kids already owned enough markers and paper to open a Staples. T 82²²² He admired how his mother and stepfather had gotten along without his help. To move groceries from the car to the house, his mom had set a Radio Flyer wagon by the drive. She used a sled in winter, she said. His stepfather, who found it increasingly hard to make his muscles work, had rigged the gate latch with a thick rope pull and fashioned ramps alongside steps to the house. They had installed a plastic dog door in the back entry, so their terrier could take care of herself, and they hired a local kid to come by and pick up the poop, and mow the grass, and shovel in winter. They’d shrunk their lives to the bedroom and bath and kitchen and living room, through which they beat a slow, continuous path. They managed. They were even comfortable. The living room had new furniture and a high-def TV the size of a wall. It was plugged into a home theater system the man didn’t want to know the price of. His stepfather said, We might as well enjoy. We watch the damn thing a lot. He wore fingerless wool gloves and a stocking cap year round, to keep his blood warm. The man always expected it a meant his stepfather was heading out into some tundra, though he never did. [18.222.115.120] Project MUSE...