Small Hours by Jennifer Kitses

Author:Jennifer Kitses
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2017-06-13T04:00:00+00:00

Helen tried again, though she had been trying for five minutes now and had gotten nowhere. Ilona’s cries had turned to shrieks, and while Helen wanted to comfort her, she could feel her patience wearing under the waves of tears.

“I want to see the dog!” Ilona cried out.

“It’s hurt,” Helen said. She couldn’t say the dog was dead. “Glenn is taking her to the vet. The dog doctor.”

“I want to help!”

“You can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Her phone rang, but she couldn’t answer it while Ilona was bellowing. She wished Tom were here; it was hard not to be envious at times at how children’s crises didn’t intrude upon his workday. On the couch, Sophie was happily watching cartoons. Pingu had rolled into Caillou.

Ilona gave her a last furious look.

“You’re mean!”

Then she stormed off and settled on the couch beside her sister. And Helen, though she wished she could stay there, try one last time to soothe her daughter, let the TV do that job instead.

She ran up to her office and checked her email. She read the long list of changes that Lou had sent—not just for Mega Crux, but for a new assignment he wanted her to work on, and could we have a first look by Tuesday? Though of course Monday would be better.

Fuck you, Lou.

She stared at the email until the words blurred on the screen. Then she slapped her hand, hard, against the surface of her desk. Her coffee cup fell to the floor and shattered. She sprang up from her chair and stepped onto Pussyface, who hissed, scratched her bare ankle, and went back to sleep.

Fuck!

Butch was still going at it with his leaf blower, making neat little piles and scattering dust at maximum volume. Helen watched him from her open window. He’d finished his own yard and was now starting on Karl’s, or at least the part that bordered his own property. He was over near the azaleas, blowing away the remains of last year’s leaves that had been left to rot.

She went to the closet and took out the water gun that Karl had given her that morning. Kneeling beside her office window, she narrowed her eyes and fired.

Pow, pow, pow.

It wasn’t filled with water, but just pulling the trigger made her feel better. She lifted the screen and leaned out the window, the gun against her shoulder, and tracked Butch as he worked his way across the grass. She aimed at the baseball cap he wore low on his forehead, at the sweat-soaked back of his muscle-T, at his ankles above his soccer slides. She fired away as he poked around the bushes, kicking up clouds of dead leaves.

Her cell phone rang. It was the receptionist from the preschool, wanting to know if she was still planning to come by with a check, or maybe she wanted to try splitting the bill with another card after all? Because if they waited until Monday, there would be a late fee. And she didn’t think she could get it credited back a second time.

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