Ordinary Things
The first time Evan realized he might be in trouble, Mia’s son was trying to build a castle out of french fries. Not a metaphorical castle. An actual structural project. Two fries stood vertically against a ketchup packet while a third balanced across the top like a load-bearing beam. The whole thing had approximately the engineering integrity of a folding chair in a hurricane. Mia looked at the table and sighed. “I swear I feed him.” Evan watched the kid add another fry. “I don’t think this is food anymore. I think he’s applying for a zoning permit.” Mia laughed hard enough to cover her mouth. That laugh did it. Not in some cinematic, violins-playing, this is the woman I’m going to marry kind of way. Nothing that dramatic. He just looked across the table at her and thought: I like this. The three of them had spent the afternoon wandering through stores, arguing about snacks, losing money to arcade machines, and listening to a four-year-old explain several things that were ...