'no, we have lentil or vegetable' she says.
they are in the front room, standing center stage television on. mid thirties, normal, average american family. she has sneakers on, he is barefoot, the sun is fading twisting through the curtain casting shadows that creep across the walls and floor. it is 5, it is dinner time so like it or not they must eat.
i thought we had one can left? he says without looking at her.
'no, i told you what we had. what do you think i am hiding it? you think i don't want to share? that's right, i like minestrone so much that i don't want to give you one drop.' she says.
they are middle class, they are pressure and struggle and steam that does not creep it festers, it pushes until it explodes.
who knows, he thinks.
lentil, i guess, but if i knew we were out of minestrone i would have gone to the store and bought some. he says, as a twinge of pleasure passes through causing the hair on his arms to rise.
'you want i will go. anything for you, you want me to go to the store and get the damned soup i will.' she says and begins to collect her things.
he is silent just for a moment. he is silent just long enough to bring doubt to his words. they have their forks and their knives, they are on the attack. the television news is playing a story of vans. their voices slightly louder than normal. she looks at the roof, at the floor at her children playing. she sighs, and strides towards the closet for her purse.
no, no lentil is fine, he says. his register dropping below normal to a soothe. he will calm her. he will cause her to drop her defenses.
listen you are right, we should be happy with what we have. he says .
'i will go,' she says holding her keys in mid air.
i know you would. it's not about soup, who gives damn about soup, just one of those days. he says.
she is slow, uncertain, places her keys in her purse, her purse on the floor (within reach). 'you sure, your fine with lentil or vegetable?'
vegetable sounds great, probably better than minestrone. god knows i could do without the carbs. he says and rises.
the children play with plastic train wood blocks exercise mat they play with crayons or toy microphones. the television moves to educational movie about frog. he embraces her in the middle of the floor.
'i would go,' she says.
he pulls her close the sun cast their shadows on the floor. he feels an opening he feels he could attack could really do some damage with a few more words. whats the use, he thinks.
whats the use. he says.
'what do you mean,' she says.
he hovers, a teachable moment sword in hand.
we do are best, right. i mean i can't be mad about the lack of soup, even though it's your responsibility. even though i hold up my end of the bargain. even though i am going to work and never say boo about it. even though you demanded to stay home with the kids and now we went from good to broke and i work like a dog just to keep no money in my pockets. i mean you are trying your best, you have to watch kids and thats tough, though you can hand them off to your mom. right. you are too busy and it is too hard to keep food in the damn cabinets. but it is not about the food.
'i am going to get the damn soup.' she says. 'you're right, it is not easy. you're right i do have to watch the kids. you try it, for one day. you try, see how far you get.' she says.
they separate go their corners, breathe hard and stare.
'it's not like i am out shopping or laughing my day away. it's not like i am complaining about having a small house, or an old car when all my friends have new things.' she says.
he hears not good enough.
well, boo, you knew about me, you came in with your eyes open. he says but is cut off.
'i knew? i knew about everything? maybe i would have made a different decision if i knew about your credit.' she says.
well there is no lock on the door. he says.
'that's not what i mean.' she says.
they are still apart but closer. they each have picked up a child somewhere along the way. one is holding for comfort they other held to be fed.
'enough.' he says.
'no, if i am not doing a good job then tell me how i can do better. i mean if you are so good maybe you can come home and lend me a hand.' she says.
enough, he says. listen, we are doing our best. we are just worn out. we are just beat by all this stress. we are just collapsing here under the weight of it all. you are amazing. i am not sure how you do all this and not collapse.
'i don't have a off day, or a quitting time.' she says.
he watches her tears.
i know, he says and moves towards her position on the couch. it's just a bad day, right. tough we had one kid wake up so early and the other sick. lots of stress. lets just let it go. alright?
'i am so mad,' she says, 'i get one day with you, one day as a family and it always turns out like this. always ends up arguing, wasting time. i just want to enjoy your company, not feel on the clock. do family things...'
i know, me too. listen they are young...
'not worry about some damn soup,' she says.
forget the soup, forget it. you sit here...no better yet, come sit in the kitchen, take a break, let me make dinner. come sit and let's talk. what do you think?
'okay.' she says.
i ain't making no damn soup. he says.
they laugh, they embrace a quick kiss then exit lower stage right.
we are left to the sound of the television playing and one kid watching while the other sucks their fingers and bats a giraffe while laying on their back.
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