Page 5 of Wreckage and Rain

At six Cheyenne is in the doorway, jacket already off.

“Calloway called. He wants a tax-optimization section before the risk slide by Friday, or he ‘can’t take it up with confidence.’”

She does Calloway’s voice. It’s cruel and completely accurate, and I laugh before I can stop myself.

“We’ll rebuild the back half.”

I check the time. I told Summer I’d be home. I’m almost sure I did. But the day has swallowed everything since then, and I can’t remember what time I promised her or how late I already am.

“How long?”

“Three hours if he leaves us alone. Five if Calloway keeps texting you adjectives.”

I pull out my phone.

Me

Hey babe. Calloway wants the deck rebuilt before Friday. Going to be late, eat without me.

I read it before I send it. It's not quite true yet, we're in the office, not at dinner, the deck not yet the reason but I send it anyway. By the time she reads it it'll be true enough.

The reply comes a few minutes later.

Summer

Okay.

That's all of it.

We work until eight, rebuilding the entire back half of the deck.

We order Thai from the place that knows her order and still asks for mine. We make fun of Calloway while we eat. The cleanerscome through, empty the trash, and disappear again. Outside the windows, the sky turns gold, then blue, then black.

The work clicks into place. So do we.

And for a while, being here with her feels easier than sitting across from my own wife at our kitchen table has in months.

Then Calloway texts another adjective, and I drop back into the deck before I have to think too hard about why.

***

When I get home later that evening the lamp by the couch is on. I find Summer under it in my old rugby shirt, her knees up, laptop balanced on them, hair in a knot that defies physics.

"Hey." I drop my keys in the dish, cross to the couch, kiss the top of her head like I have a thousand times coming through that door. "Calloway's lost his mind. Wants the whole back half of the deck rebuilt by Friday because the man can't get through a sentence without an adjective. You should've heard Cheyenne do him."

She tips her head up for it and smiles.

"Sounds like Calloway."

"How's the chapter?"

"Slow." She looks back at the screen. "Got tangled in the middle. I'll get it."

I'm still running the deck in my head when I realize she hasn't said anything in a while.

She types something, deletes it.

"You eat?" I ask.