As Mike listened he became aware of Marie’s steps on the stairs. He turned and smiled as she entered the kitchen. “Just in time,” he said.
Marie frowned at the droning radio. “Do we have to have that on all the time?”
He clicked it off. “Not all the time, but there are some new, concerning reports.”
“What happened at that protest you went to yesterday?” she said.
Mike blinked thoughtfully. “Not much. Just two bunches of people shouting at each other for a while.”
“Carol came by after dinner last night when you were working in the back yard. She said a man was badly injured and is in a coma.”
“Well,” said Mike, “there was some fighting, but I didn’t want to upset you. I didn’t know anyone got hurt that bad.”
Marie shook her head. “It’s awful.”
The coffee machine beeped and Mike smiled sadly. “The coffee’s ready.”
She came to him and put her arm around him. “Not too strong, I hope.”
He shook his head. “Just the way you like it.” He pulled her close and kissed her. She responded and they both felt an awakening of passion. “I wish we would have done that last night,” he said. “Could have been the start of something.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I know. It’s just that I’m so tired lately with everything that’s happening. And when I finally do manage to fall asleep, it’s not very good.”
“That’s okay,” he said, kissing her again. “I understand.” Their kisses went deeper. Through half-closed eyelids he saw Elly come into the room and burst out in bright laughter, saying, “Kissy face, kissy face.”
Mike and Marie laughed uncomfortably.
“Okay,” said Marie, “enough of that. C’mon, Elly. Help me set the table.”
Mike smiled as he watched Elly take the cups out of the cupboard. He couldn’t help taking stock of her as she set them on the table. She was already an inch taller than her mother, and at sixteen, she likely had more growing to do. She had the body and face of a teen model, and the mind of a child of eleven or twelve. Normally of good temper, she was the source of much joy and wonderment for Mike and Marie, but also worry. Her beauty turned heads wherever they went, especially male heads.
Mike sat and dropped two tablets of saccharin into his coffee. He stirred it, watching it fizz faintly white, his mind clouding over in thought. You couldn’t get sugar anymore, nor honey. They hadn’t seen either in over six months.
Marie shook some government-rationed corn flakes from a brown cardboard box into Elly’s bowl and her own, then poured over it some canned milk she’d cut with water.
Elly opened the sugar bowl and stuck her spoon in, digging about. “Aw,” she crooned childishly, “still no sugar?”
“Sorry,” said Marie over her coffee cup,
“No honey either?” said Elly, as if Mike and Marie were holding out on her.
“No,” said Marie. “You want to go shopping with me today after your lessons? Maybe we can find some.”
“Yeah, Mommy,” she said, her tone brighter.
Mike smiled benignly. Such exchanges were their norm and of no note. But when they went out, Elly’s childlike behavior elicited inquisitive looks and smiles. There had always been hints that she would have deficits, but the retardation had become undeniable when she was six and in school. She couldn’t keep up with the other kids. They put her in Special Ed and that had helped. But her most worrisome trait became evident when she would play in the front yard or on the street in front of the house. She was overly-friendly with the neighbors, stopping them to talk. And she had a total lack of fear of strangers, often calling out to them when she was riding her bike on the street. Mike’s heart ached as he recalled his little girl at twelve or so, her breasts already budding, her hips developing, sitting on her bicycle under her Disney Aladdin helmet, calling out to the occasional stranger walking by while Mike watched protectively from in front of the house. Once he’d had to pursue Elly as she followed an older man who was walking his dog down the street. When Mike caught up to them, she turned and said, “He’s gonna let me walk his dog.”
Mike stared at the man angrily.
“I never told her that,” the stranger protested, “I just told her I’d think about it.”
Marie broke into his thoughts. “It’s nice out today.”
He nodded and glanced out the window. “Yeah. But the temperature is supposed to drop down to the forties tonight. Winter’s on its way.”
“That’s good,” said Elly. “Maybe it will snow.” She looked brightly at her father. “If it snows can you help me make a snowman?”
Mike and Marie laughed.
“Of course,” said Mike. “Maybe you could start getting the stuff we’ll need ready, like gloves, buttons for eyes and nose… coal.”
“Yeah,” said Elly with wonder. She frowned as she placed her spoon in her bowl and pushed it to the center of the table. “I wonder where Charley is. I miss him.”
Mike wondered too. Their little border collie had been missing for three days. Other dogs had probably killed him. With the food shortages and pet-abandonments, there were packs of feral dogs running around. “Well,” he said, trying to sound hopeful, even though he wasn’t, “maybe he’ll show up today.”
“All right, Elly,” said Marie. “We’ll look for him later. Now you can help me clean up.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Marie put Elly to work folding the laundry she’d brought in off the clothes line. She thought of the relatively new dryer they had, but rarely used, due to the price of natural gas. Still, they were better off than a lot of folks, given the news reports and the stories told by the neighbors about the strangers passing through town. And there was something fulfilling about the added chores they had now. They brought them together as a family.
Marie went out to the backyard and took down the supports for the tomatoes and beans that they’d grown and canned. She bundled up the stakes and laid them by the door for Mike to put away in the shed. She thought of their embrace in the kitchen before Elly interrupted them. Mike was right. They hadn’t made love in a while, maybe three weeks. And they’d had opportunities. But what she told him was true; she was often just too tired. It wasn’t the extra work; it was the worry. She couldn’t understand how people could let their differences come to a head like this. It boiled down to a lack of leadership at the top on both sides.
Sighing, she looked at the empty house next door and wondered about Charley. Elly missed him a lot. She headed for the detached garage. Maybe Charley had holed up in there for some reason.
The light was muted, the air musty. She walked the length of the truck camper to the roll-up door, looking under the shelves. A plastic bin hid most of a darkened space and she tugged on it, sliding it out scratchily. She heard the sound of fabric slipping off of something and stood. A set of intense, angry eyes under a hooded face fixed on her as a wild-looking young man sat up.
Mike was in the back shed getting his work gloves and equipment. On the radio the week before he had heard that there would be natural gas shortages this winter and he had decided to cut down one of the two maple trees in the back yard for firewood. He was lifting an axe off the shelf when Marie screamed from the direction of the garage. He bounded out the door, axe in hand.