It’s three-thirty when Haley comes home from school. I’m watching Twilight and wishing that I lived in the Pacific Northwest. She comes up to me on the couch and cuddles against my arm, and it feels like a blood pressure cuff slowly tightening.

Have you applied for any jobs today, Mama?

Yes, three, I say. I like filling out job applications. I like imagining myself doing different jobs and pretending that I’m qualified. It’s a game, trying to fit the key words in the cover letter and rearranging my resumé.

But I don’t tell her that I never submit these completed applications. That I don’t have the courage. That I don’t check my email because I don’t even want to get a job in the first place.

Haley is satisfied and flips the channel to RealityNow! where a bunch of rowdy teenagers are making out on threadbare couches. Soon, Brandon and Mark come home. They stay in the backyard, shouting and hitting each other with sticks.

My eyes droop and it’s five-thirty. Daniel is home with dinner. He’s never late anymore. We go to the kitchen where he carefully places the cartons of Chinese food on the table. There is a carton for each of us. Brandon and Mark run in like those vampires who chase deer when they’re hungry.

Daniel asks me how I am doing. He asks if the unemployment forms are filled out. I say, Yes, they are, when they are not, because I couldn’t find the information I needed. Daniel locks our forms in a safe with a ten-digit safety code that I can never remember and am now too embarrassed to ask for again.

My beautiful wife, he says, looking at me carefully, like I’m about to combust before his eyes. Maybe I am. Maybe my brain will explode and splatter all over the Chinese food. Everyone will say, Poor Mom, she’s finally gone to that big cloud in the sky. Then they’ll clean me up and bury me in the backyard.

Daniel asks Haley about soccer try-outs and Mark about math. I think Mark is failing math, but Daniel takes care of all the school papers now. Haley and Mark don’t say much in reply.

Everyone eats quickly, while it takes me longer. The noodles feel slimy and stick in my throat. I think about strands of hair clogging the shower drain.

Daniel starts cleaning up while the kids get ready for the baseball game. He is careful and wipes the table down for crumbs, rinses the empty cartons, and asks how I feel. His nice words feel like wet bird droppings on my skin.

Soon, the car is packed up, and I sit in the passenger seat while Daniel drives us to the local elementary school. I stare out the window. The houses in the neighborhood look so ugly, like they could suck your soul right out of you.

The parking lot is crowded, and we park at the end. I don’t have to carry anything, but it’s about a half mile from the lot to the field, and I’m already tired. Sheila sits next to me and complains about her husband. I have nothing to complain about, I think.

Brandon hits what should have been a home run, and we all cheer. But then a dog runs onto the field and trips him, so by the time he makes it to the home plate, he is out. Pat McPherson jogs onto the field to retrieve the dog, and his face gets all red and sweaty. He must be terrible in bed, I think. He can’t even handle a short jog.

Sheila asks if I want to go to the spa on Saturday. I say sure, because it’s easier. But I’ll have to ask Daniel for the money to pay for it. Sheila’s been a stay-at-home mom for years. Her husband makes big bucks and lets her spend it on whatever she wants.

I remember when I used to work at the university all day, and then come home, put away the kids’ backpacks and coats, cook dinner, eat dinner for five minutes, clean up, put in a load of laundry, tuck the kids in, finish reading a paper on synthetic polymers, fold the laundry, and go to bed at 2:00 a.m. I would wake up at 6:00 a.m. and cook breakfast, find the kids’ backpacks and coats, drive them to school, and then go to work. One day, it just got to be too much so I took one too many Xanax, hoping that I would check out.

But it didn’t work, and everyone is nice to me now, and I have to be nice back.

The game ends, Daniel packs up the car and we stop to get ice cream. Brandon is sad because their team lost, Haley is sad because she didn’t see any cute guys, and Mark is happy because we’re getting ice cream. We stand in a long line and then the kids go with their friends and Daniel and I sit across from each other in a booth.

Over his vanilla ice cream, Daniel mouths, Tonight? and I mouth back, Sure.