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the bag from the drawstring, I slipped out the study door, careful not to be
glimpsed from the kitchen, and made my way out to the front step. I d toss the
bag into the car and
Hey, said Sarah. She was standing at the end of the driveway. How did she
get out there? Did she have a transporter in the kitchen? And she was talking
to Trixie, dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
Oh, you re out here, I said. Trixie gave me a knowing smile.
Zack, Trixie said.
Trixie was telling me you guys had coffee the other day.
I nodded. Things seemed to be spinning.
You people who work from home, Sarah said, pretending to scowl. No bosses
to answer to, coffee breaks whenever you want them. No commute into the city.
I should be so lucky. What I don t get is, and this is something I ve talked
about with Zack, when you work from home, don t you start feeling isolated,
with no coworkers to talk to?
Well, Trixie said, that s not always the case.
Sure, I said. I m on the phone a lot through the day. You re still talking
to people, even if it s not face-to-face.
Of course, you have people coming to your house, Sarah said to Trixie.
That s right. And it can get pretty busy, they start stacking up like
planes.
Sarah chuckled. You know, I wouldn t miss commuting in toThe Metropolitan.
Maybe you could use an assistant.
Trixie nodded with mock enthusiasm. Sounds great. I d be happy to show you
the ropes.
I really should get going, I said.
Where would that be, exactly? Sarah asked. I thought you were going to
start the barbecue for the steaks. And what s in the bag? You taking back some
shoes?
No, it s an old bag. I ve got something in here to take back to Kenny s.
You were just there.
I know. I was telling him that that Batman kit I bought a while ago came
without some of the parts it was supposed to have, and he said trying to order
individual parts would be impossible, so he said just return the whole kit and
he ll try to get a replacement.
And you need to do this now.
He closes pretty soon, and I was thinking I might work on it tonight, after
dinner.
I always liked Batman, Trixie said. Although I guess my favorite was
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Catwoman. Something about the outfit.
Sarah sighed. If you can, be fast, cause I m getting hungry.
I tossed the bag into the back seat, then worried Sarah would look in it. But
so long as she believed it had something to do with Batman, I was safe. I ll
just get the barbecue going, I said, and ran back into the house, through the
kitchen, and out through the glass doors to the deck. I opened the lid on the
barbecue, turned on the gas, and, forever the optimist, pressed the red
ignition button.
Nothing.
I clicked it a second time, then a third. Goddamn thing. Why did I think it
would suddenly start working now, just because I had an urgent errand to run?
This ll work forever, the salesman said when we bought it. How long ago had
that been? Three months, four?
By now, there was enough propane circulating in the atmosphere that if the
red button beat the odds and actually worked on the fourth try, they d be
picking up pieces of me in Trixie s backyard. I turned the valve off hard,
waved my hand around to disperse the gas, and went into the house for some
matches. Confident there was no leftover propane hanging around in the
atmosphere, I turned the gas back on and immediately dropped a lit match into
the bottom of the barbecue. There was a soft poof as the flame ignited.
I got the burners on both sides going, then lowered the lid to let the heat
build up.
Paul and his buddies were coming into the kitchen as I came through the glass
doors. What s to eat? Paul asked.
I m just heating up the barby, I said. If your friends want hot dogs or
something, I think we ve got some in the fridge. I ve got to go out for a few
minutes.
Don t forget your purse, said Andy, who was already into our fridge like it
was his own. You got any Coke?
Dad, Paul said. You got a sec?
I didn t, but I stopped anyway. Yeah?
Angie told me she told you what I wanted to do.
I was trying to remember. Maybe you could refresh my memory.
About a tattoo.
No.
No, she didn t tell you?
Yes, she told me, and no, you can t get one.
Paul was crestfallen. Can we, like, talk about this?
We are talking about this. And I m saying no.
I don t believe this. You haven t even heard me out. You don t even know
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what I m asking for.
Are you asking whether you can get a tattoo?
Maybe, yeah, but
You re too young. You need my permission, I think, at any reputable tattoo
parlor, to get a tattoo at your age, and I m not signing.
Everyone has them, Dad. It s not a big deal.
I d love to discuss this with you, but I have an errand to run.
Sure. Walk away.
I grabbed my cell phone off the table by the front door and slid it into my
jacket pocket on the way out, didn t stop to chat with Sarah and Trixie, who
were still at the end of the drive, and squealed out.
Once I was down around the corner on Lilac, where I couldn t be seen, I
pulled over and got out the map book. Deer Prance Drive was on the other side
of Oakwood. I got across town in about fifteen minutes and found that Stefanie
Knight s house was in a new development that was every bit as architecturally
fascinating as our own, except this one was completely finished, no uncovered
foundations, no houses waiting for sod.
Deer Prance was off Autumn Leaves Lane (God almighty, where would it end?),
and as I turned onto it, I leaned back in the seat enough that I could reach
into the front pocket of my jeans and fish out the piece of paper with the
street number on it. There was still another hour of sunlight, and the house
numbers were easy to read.
Deer Prance was a street of relatively new townhouses, and I found 2223 on
the left side, about two-thirds of the way down. The driveway already had an
old Ford Escort in it, and there was no room either behind or next to it for
my car, so I found a spot at the curb.
As I got out of the car, the drawstring of the bag looped around my hand, I
noticed that for a new development, this stretch already had a slightly
run-down look. The paint was peeling on some of the garage doors, one car up
the street was on blocks, and tucked out of the way between 2223 and 2225 were
a rusted-out stove and an abandoned tricycle.
As I mounted the steps, I noticed two cases of empty beer bottles, just
outside the door, waiting to be taken back to the store. There was an aluminum
screen door between me and the wooden front door, but I didn t have to pull it
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