Falling(3)

Nodding, the boy ran off.

“I’m Carrie,” she said, closing the door.

The technician set his equipment bag down in the entryway and Carrie watched him take in the living room. High ceilings and a staircase to the second floor. Tasteful furniture and fresh flowers on the coffee table. On the mantel, family photos over the years, the most recent taken on the beach at sunset. Scott was a mini-me of Carrie, their same chocolatey-brown hair blowing in the sea breeze, their green eyes squinted with wide smiles. Bill, nearly a foot taller than Carrie, held a then-newborn Elise in his arms, her lily-white baby skin a contrast to his Southern California tan. The repairman turned with a small smile.

“Sam,” he said.

“Sam,” she said, returning the smile. “Can I get you something to drink before you get started? I was just about to make myself a cup of tea.”

“Tea would be great, actually. Thanks.”

She led him into the other room, bright, natural light filling the kitchen that opened into the toy-dotted family room.

“Thanks for coming on a Saturday.” Carrie sat the baby back in the high chair. Pounding her fists on the table, Elise giggled through a sparsely toothed grin. “This was the only appointment I could get for weeks.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty busy. How long has your internet been out?”

“Day before yesterday?” she said, filling a tea kettle with water. “English breakfast or green?”

“English breakfast, thanks.”

“Is it normal,” Carrie asked, watching the stove’s pilot light ignite to a full flame, “for our house to be the only one having issues? I asked a few neighbors who also have CalCom and theirs is fine.”

Sam shrugged. “That’s normal. Might be your router, maybe the wiring. I’ll run diagnostics.”

From the front room, heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs. Carrie knew the next sounds well: a suitcase and messenger bag set by the door, followed by hard-soled shoes crossing the entryway. In a handful of strides, he was in the kitchen, polished black dress shoes, crisply ironed pants, suit coat, and tie. Wings above his breast pocket displayed the Coastal Airways insignia, BILL HOFFMAN engraved boldly below. A matching pair adorned the front of the gold-trimmed hat he laid softly on the counter. His entrance felt oddly dramatic and Carrie noticed how much of a contrast his aura of authority made to the rest of the house. She’d never noticed it before; it wasn’t like he came to dinner in uniform. And it was probably only because there was another person in the room, a man who didn’t know him, didn’t know their family. But for whatever reason, today, it was conspicuous.

Bill placed his hands in his pockets with a polite nod to the technician before settling his attention on Carrie.

Lips pursed, arms crossed, she stared back.

“Sam, would you mind…”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, get set up,” Sam said to Carrie, leaving the couple alone.

The clock on the wall ticked the seconds. Baby Elise banged a drool-covered teething ring on the tray before it slipped out of her fingers, falling to the floor. Bill crossed the kitchen and picked it up, rinsing it off in the sink and drying it with a dish towel before returning it to his daughter’s eager hands. Behind Carrie the tea kettle began a soft whistle.

“I’ll FaceTime when I get to the hotel to hear how the game—”

“New York, right?” Carrie cut him off.

Bill nodded. “New York tonight, Portland tom—”

“There’s a team pizza party after the game. With the three-hour time difference, you’ll be asleep before we get home.”

“Okay. Then first thing—”

“We’re getting together with my sister and the kids tomorrow morning,” she said, and shrugged. “So, we’ll see.”

Bill straightened with a deep inhale, the four gold stripes on his epaulets rising with his shoulders. “You know I had to say yes. If it’d been anyone else asking I wouldn’t have.”

Carrie stared at the floor. The kettle began to screech and she shut off the burner. The noise gradually softened until it was only the clock making noise again.

Bill checked his watch, cursing under his breath. Giving a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, he said, “I’m gonna be late.”

“You’ve never been late,” Carrie replied.

He put on his hat. “I’ll call after I check in. Where’s Scott?”

“Outside. Playing. He’s coming back any minute to say goodbye.”

It was a test and she knew Bill knew it. Carrie stared at him from the other side of the unspoken line she’d drawn. He glanced at the clock.

“We’ll talk before I take off,” Bill said, leaving the room.

Carrie watched him go.

The front door opened and closed a few moments later and a hush settled over the house. Crossing to the sink, Carrie watched the leaves on the oak tree in the backyard flutter in the breeze. Distantly, Bill’s car started up and drove off.

Behind her, a throat cleared. Wiping her face hastily, she turned.

“Sorry about that,” she said to Sam with an embarrassed eye roll. “Anyway. You said English breakfast.” Tearing open the tea bag, she dropped it in a mug. Steam rose from the kettle as she poured the hot water. “Do you need milk or sugar?”