16.

The TV is tuned to one of Dory’s weekend morning talk shows. It doesn’t stop her from prattling on about how stubborn Lena can be, which isn’t what he wants to hear right now. On the screen, well-coiffed ladies sit around a table, sharing things that Don’t Matter. Several million people watch the show to hear stories sadder than their own. Or does the fantasy of TV Land give them hope? His fantasy gives him hope. It’s what he holds on to in this holy-roller country called America, where guys like him are processed out of Dullsville into routine, and where only the fantasies of the rich are realized.

Okay, Lena’s reluctance to accept their offer yesterday was a disappointment. But nothing’s ever over till it’s over. He’ll get Zack alone in a bar. A few beers and he’ll describe in gory detail what happened to the daughter of a made-up friend while living in a shelter. Then he’ll urge Zack to share these indisputable facts with Lena, and wake up the fear she ought to have—that to refuse the refuge of their house is nothing less than negligent.

“Stu, where are you?”

“At your side, lady.”

“Lena in her robe all day … not like her. What else can we do?”

“Nothing,” he says irritably, pissed to have his planning interrupted.

“Why so huffy?”

“I made myself available. Now it’s up to them. End of story.”

“Yourself available? What does that mean?”

“Don’t nitpick.”

Dory takes him in with that flushed expression of wanting to understand that justifies nothing in his book. “Shut off the stupid TV if you’re not watching. I’m sure not.”

She promptly picks up the remote and clicks the TV off, the immediate silence damning. What’s the matter with him? She didn’t do a thing wrong. He’s treating her badly, which feels terrible. Is he really trying to make her leave him? He’s so not in touch with the crap in his head to know. “Honey, we have to let them sort it out. We offered our house, let’s wait and see. That’s all I meant.”

Ever ready to accept a half-assed apology, she nods in agreement.

When the phone rings, Dory answers. “It’s Zack. He wants us over for breakfast, wants to share an idea. Are you up for going?”

“Why not?” he says, as nonchalantly as he can.

Pulling up in front of their house, he takes it in as if for the first time. It’s small, almost a toy. If it didn’t have a basement they could lift it, haul it elsewhere, never to be found. Dory gets out and walks quickly up the front steps in her tie-dyed sundress. Always a skinny girl, she’s still all edges and points, unlike Lena …

“Stu?” Dory calls. Slowly he unfolds himself from the car, everything in him reluctant to hear Zack’s idea. Lena opens the door in fitted jeans and a green tank top that matches her eyes, dazzling, though in her expression he finds no wish to dazzle. She looks downright sullen, tired, maybe tearful, but that’s not Lena. She didn’t cry, even when her mother did the unthinkable. Maybe, alone in the bathroom, but that’s more Dory. How many times has he seen her wide eyes tear up?

He nods to Lena and follows her to the kitchen, where they’re all sitting around the table. French toast, syrup, jam, juice, milk, cereal, and coffee on display, quite a spread for a family that’s about to be homeless. But no one seems to be eating. Isn’t that odd? He glances at the freshly painted yellow walls; a few colorful prints hung here and there, shiny appliances catching the sunlight streaming through the large bay window. To have to give this up should be illegal. Should he show sympathy? “The kitchen’s cozy,” he hears himself say, taking a seat. Lena’s eyes flicker with gratitude. That, too, is odd.

“So, Dad, what’s the secret plan?” It’s Rosie, of course. She’ll be a handful if they move in.

“You and me, Stu, will get some of the guys from the construction site to set up a perimeter around the house and keep the uniforms out. We don’t know exactly when they’ll come to evict us, but waiting won’t be unpleasant. We’ll provide the beer, food, maybe even music.” Wearing an expectant expression, Zack scans their faces. No one speaks. “The hope here, my friends, is that the cops, sheriff or whoever, will go away and not come back for a while, during which period at least one of us gets a job so we can make a handful of back payments.”

“They come in the middle of the night,” Casey says. “I saw it online.”

“What makes you think a few friends will keep the lions at bay?” Dory asks. “These guys arrive with weapons and stuff.”

“I never heard of anyone getting shot during an eviction,” Zack tells her, his tone upbeat.

“A woman in Harlem did, years ago,” Casey says. “I read it online.”

“Well, that was then, not today, my son.” Zack beams at Casey.

“Lena, say something,” Dory urges.

“I don’t like it,” she responds.

“I’m with Lena. I mean, how long can the guys hang around? They have families. They can’t afford to be arrested. It’s asking a lot,” Stu chimes in, wondering if he’s coming down too hard on Zack’s idea. Mustn’t be seen as recruiting them to his house. Lena’s eyes are on him. She probably can’t believe he’s agreeing with her. Or maybe she’s trying to figure him out, which feels good.

“It’s probably worth a try,” Rosie muses. “Otherwise there’s nothing to do but leave here. We don’t want to do that, right?”

“Right, my beautiful girl,” Zack says.

“Of course we could all be arrested and sent directly to a shelter. That’s scary,” Rosie declares, cutting up her French toast.

Stu stares at Rosie’s fork reaching her mouth, realizes he’s got it all wrong. Zack’s plan should be encouraged because it’s bound to fail. They’ll have no choice then but to move in. “No harm in trying to keep the suckers out,” he says, matter-of-factly, as if he’d never said otherwise.

“Mom, it’s the only chance we have to stay here. We have to take it. I am not moving into a shelter. Out of the question. How can I attend school from a shelter?”

“Lena?” Dory prods.

He marvels at the way everyone waits for Lena’s response. It irritates him to find himself waiting, too.

“You know what?” Lena says, getting up. “I really need some air.”