Shell Game (Getaway collection) by Rumaan Alam

Author:Rumaan Alam [Alam, Rumaan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Original Stories
Published: 2022-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

There’s a full-scale attack in the morning. It’s the children.

“Wake up!”

“Can you make pancakes?”

“Uncle Mark?”

Parenting obliterates that line between sleep and life. You cross it as needed. Mark used to require coffee and silence. Now he could wake up and take the SATs or drive a tractor trailer up a mountain. The boys are old enough to fix their own cereal. In this strange house, they’ve reverted to some earlier version of themselves. Anyway, it’s so hot he wasn’t sleeping comfortably. He closes the door on Rachel.

“Hey.” Geoff leans out of their bedroom across the hall. The condo doors are cheap, hollow. Geoff is in his boxers, holding Chase. The rain hasn’t cooled the air at all.

The kids are barking and yapping and comparing notes. Mark ignores his brother-in-law’s erection and says his good morning.

“Would you take the baby? There’s milk in the fridge. I’ll be down in—”

This is not the Geoff of the night before, a raised voice, a near hysteria. It’s just a guy who wants some alone time with his wife. Mark gets it. Also, maybe a moment of pleasure between husband and wife matters. The world is mad; you reach for what is nearby, if you’re lucky. “All aboard!” He hoists the baby in his own arms. Chase’s skin is soft, and he has the chemical scent of a fresh diaper. They follow the children thudding down the steps, leaving Geoff and Sasha to their mouths with that rank morning smell, their skin tired of sweating.

It is another morning on planet Earth, and a hot, steady rain is falling. Thunder would at least be theatrical. They drive two towns over, eat grilled cheese sandwiches at a diner. Mark gets the kids to fold their place mats into airplanes. They decorate them with the crayons the waitress left on the table, forgetting they’re too old or too young for this activity. The smell of crayons is a madeleine in tea.

After the table is cleared, Geoff proposes a movie. “There’s a theater twenty minutes from here.” Geoff consults his phone. “Something G rated starts in an hour or so.”

“I have a headache.” Sasha maneuvers the baby the way a peacock does his tail. “Chase won’t be able to sit in a theater. It’s too loud. Even Harper—it’s so dark. She’ll be scared.”

“I won’t be scared!” Harper is scandalized.

Mark steps in. “I can sit with Chase in the lobby. You and Rachel can see whatever else is playing. I don’t mind.”

Geoff smacks the table. “There’s a plan. Moms go see something else. Let the dads deal.”

“Fine.” Sasha adjusts the baby on her lap. There’s not a woman alive who’s ever said fine and meant great. When they get to the theater, they discover that everyone else on the Cape has gone to the movies. Every show that day is sold out.

There’s nowhere to go but back to the condo, which is too small for all those bodies, all that disappointment. They stir and lose interest in their novels and watch television and snack.

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