Everybody Has Everything

James had the telephone tucked under his chin.

Ana, on the other end of the line, spun around slowly in her office chair, picturing the house where James stood. She knew that the housekeeper had left two hours ago and that by the time she got home, one basket of folded laundry and shiny floors would be the only signs of her efforts. It was constant, the garbage bags and diaper bins full, then empty, then full. What went into the body came out of the body, into Fi

“I have to go to the lawyer’s,” said James, crunching Cheerios under his stocking feet. Fi

“James, I’m working. I need to get my hours up this week. I took the afternoon off last week. Can’t he go to daycare?”

“It’s not his day. You can’t just drop them when you want. It’s not a ke

“Can we get a babysitter? I can’t miss any more work—”

“It’s one afternoon. Tell them you have another doctor’s—”

“I’ve missed drinks twice—”

“Jesus, really? Drinks?”

“It’s marketing. It’s part of the job.”

James pictured Ana in that chair in front of her computer, spi

“You have to be back here by two.”

Ana paused. “I have another call.”

In the afternoon, James waited for her, circling near the living room window, checking his watch. Fi

At 1:45 in her office, Ana tried to look like she was going to be returning later. She put her jacket over her arm in a casual way, as if she might be picking up a coffee. On the elevator, she thought of the women who had come back from maternity leaves and requested flexible schedules, part-time. It was a vocabulary Ana didn’t exercise, though theoretically, she sided with that litigator who had brought up on-site child care (but thought the gym they ultimately put in was better). That litigator was long gone now.

When Ana’s cab pulled up, James was waiting at the door. He shot her an angry look: “I’m going to be late,” he said.

Ana shut the door, removed her coat. Then she noticed Fi

“Oh, hi,” said Ana.

“Park?” he asked.

“Sure. That sounds fine. Let me just check my e-mail.”

Fi

She clicked her BlackBerry as they walked.

What Ana noticed first at the playground was that the parents outnumbered the children. She had brought along an ethics committee report on soybean seeds, picturing herself getting a little reading in while Fi

It immediately became clear, as Ana and Fi

The first blow of winter was upon them, and a few kids had on hats. One Chinese girl wore a scarf, winter boots, gloves. Ana looked at Fi

“Want to go swing,” said Fi

“Excuse me, we were waiting for that,” she said. “There’s a line, actually.” She punctuated this sentence with a smile as insincere as a mime’s. Ana looked around, and sure enough, there were two other mothers lined up a few feet away, gazing into the distance, pretending not to notice the confrontation.

“Sorry, I really didn’t know,” said Ana, lifting out Fi

“Fi

Where Fi

Ana found a bench, sitting them down, lightly patting Fi

A woman next to her lit up a cigarette. She was a little heavier than the other moms, and older, with a battered quality in the ridges of her face. There was no makeup on her eyes, but they were bright.

“I know Fi

Fi

“Where Etta?” He spied the girl sitting in the sandbox and slid off, ambling toward her. Because Etta’s mother was sitting, Ana decided it would be okay to sit, too, wiping Fi

“How’s he doing?” asked the woman. Ana appreciated the directness of the question.

“He’s good, I think,” said Ana.

A father appeared, bracketed on either side by toddler boys. The littler one licked sand from his palm like sugar.

“You’re not allowed to smoke here,” he said. “And is that your dog?” A dog tied to the fence near the gate offered a bark for emphasis. The woman squinted up at him.

“First of all, I’m hardly blowing smoke in your kid’s face, and secondly, the dog’s tied up,” she said with that same matter-of-fact voice. “Call the fucking parks board if you have a problem.”

The man paled. “You’re very rude,” he said.

“Your kid’s eating sand.” She took a long, dramatic drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke straight out in front of her like a finger.

The man gathered his children, and they tottered away. Etta’s mother butted the cigarette with her foot, then picked it up and peeled off the paper. She sprinkled the last tobacco into the garden behind her, and placed the filter and paper in her pocket. “And how are you doing? Are you his aunt?” she asked.

“No, no, we’re just … friends of Sarah’s,” said Ana.

“Kids of your own?”

“No,” said Ana, wondering when this question would stop making her feel as if someone had just torn off the shower curtain while she was midscrub.

“Well, then, you’re probably really enjoying the park,” said Etta’s mother, with a grim smile.

“It definitely feels like a scene,” said Ana.

“Don’t talk to anyone about vaccinations or breastfeeding.”