to cut back on expenses, I can do that.”
He knew she could. Hell, Mari had survived the entire first eight years of her life living at a level so far below poverty he wasn’t sure it could even be registered. Mari could trim the fat of their lives so close to the bone there’d be hardly anything left.
“No, babe. We don’t have to do that. It’ll be okay.” He said it with more confidence then he felt; a moment later he forced himself to believe it. To forget about the money he’d just transferred. “This’ll pass. No problem.”
Mari ran her fingers through his hair, then cupped his chin in her palm, forcing him to look into her eyes. What she saw there, Ryan could not have said, but whatever it was seemed to satisfy her because she nodded and kissed him. She held him in her arms, the warmth of her familiar and arousing.
“It’s only for a little while, anyway. Couple of weeks. A month, tops. Just until we get this stupid investigation out of the way,” Ryan said.
Mari nodded. She believed him, and why not? She always did. She always would.
MARI STANDS IN the pantry. The shelves groan with the weight of cans and bags and boxes. She runs her fingertips over them, mouthing the names of all the good things but not speaking aloud. Beans, rice, pasta. She can make a hundred meals from these ingredients. Enough to last for months even if she didn’t go to the grocery store for that long.
This comforts her, the sight of this wealth. The cool wood and shadows soothe her, too, even if she has to take only two steps to get back into the brightly lit kitchen. She closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of spices. She can smell the brown paper bags stacked carefully in the rack, ready to be reused. The biting stink of ammonia in the bottle toward the back, and also of vinegar closer to the front. A bottle of floor cleaner is supposed to smell “flower-fresh” but doesn’t.
“Moooom!”
Mari sticks her head out of the pantry. “What?”
Kendra jumps, startled, at the kitchen table. “What are you doing in there?”
“Thinking about what to make for dinner. What do you want?”
Kendra must want something from her mother, but she doesn’t say what it is. The idea of dinner distracts her. “Can we order pizza?”
“No.” Mari thinks of Ryan’s words from a few nights before when she’d brought home the cheesesteaks. “I can make some.”
Kendra makes a face. “Forget it. I’m going over to Sammy’s house, then.”
Samantha Evans has been Kendra’s best friend since first grade. She lives a few houses down the street. Her parents have been on the edge of divorce for years, and neither are probably home now. They both work. They both stay out of the house a lot so they don’t have to see each other. Mari would prefer it if the girls came to spend time in her house where she can keep an eye on them, where she can do her meager best to give Sammy some semblance of normal family life—but she understands that two teen girls want to spend their time in independence, such as it is.
Besides, Sammy’s parents usually seem to leave her money for pizza.
“Just you and Sammy?”
Kendra looks faintly scornful. “Of course. Who else would come over?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that boy...what’s his name? Logan?”
Kendra bites her lip gently. But then she shakes her head, her hand going unconsciously to the pocket of her jeans where her phone buzzes. Ah, Mari thinks. She does like him. But something has gone wrong.
“Sammy’s parents don’t let her have anyone over when they’re gone. Just me.”
“I know what they allow and don’t allow, Kendra. But I also know they’re not home and it can be tempting....” Mari trails off before she can spout more daytime drama admonitions. Aware more than ever that Kendra is living a life completely different than Mari’s teenage years. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”
“Mom. C’mon. We’re going to watch TV and stuff. Her mom said when she got home from work she’d take us to the mall and see a movie. I can sleep over. Is that okay?”
“What time is her mom supposed to be home?”
A shrug. “Dunno. Seven?”
It’s a Friday night. School’s out for the summer. Sammy lives just down the street. Mari thinks she ought to protest more, but without the allure of pizza, a trip to the mall and a movie, what does she have to hold her daughter here? Ryan has already said he’d be home late again. It’ll just be her and Ethan.
“Call me when you get back to Sammy’s house tonight.”
Kendra’s grin lights up her face. Mari sees herself in that grin and is relieved to feel that connection. For a moment, she remembers the weight of a sleeping infant in her arms, the sweet smell of Kendra’s fuzzy baby head. Time is passing too fast. But isn’t that what time does?
Mari makes pizza, anyway. She and Ethan eat it on the back deck. The cut on his foot left a scar, but he’s healed fast enough that he barely limps. She watches him build with Lego blocks as she flips through a parenting magazine she bought from the school fund-raising campaign. Nothing in it seems relevant to her, but she tries hard to pay attention to it, anyway. She pages past glossy photos of mothers and children posed around platters of decorated cupcakes, modeling hand-printed T-shirts. She skims the articles, skipping the words and phrases that give her trouble. She can read competently enough. It’s the lack of context that confuses her.
When the fireflies come out to dot their tiny yellow brightness against the backdrop of night, Mari calls Ethan away from his toys and hands him an empty canning jar. Together they stalk the lightning bugs and capture them until the jar is full.
“Hold it up,” she tells him. “Aren’t they lovely?”
“We can’t keep them,” Ethan says solemnly. “Wild things deserve to be free. Don’t they, Mama?”
“They do. But we can hold them for just a little while, right?”
He laughs and holds up the jar. “Yep. Then we’ll let them go.”
“Let’s have some ice cream.”
“Hooray!” Ethan dances, forgetting that lovely wild things also don’t like to be shaken around in their glass houses. The bugs swirl and dip, falling off the jar’s slick insides.
Mari takes it from him as he runs ahead of her into the house. She sets the jar on the deck railing as she goes inside to scoop large bowls of ice cream for them both. Whipped cream. Fudge sauce. She loves sweets, even if her teeth ache in memory of past indulgences. She should limit herself and, she supposes, Ethan, too, to one scoop. But she can’t help it. Even with the memory of thousands of dollars and dozens of hours of dental work to repair the damage done to her teeth through childhood neglect, Mari can’t resist.
Ryan comes home as she and Ethan have settled
