He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead, but couldn’t. Without realizing it, he kept tilting his head backward like a tourist, gazing at the skyscraper. The sight of it drew him like a moth to a flame.
The ad had been right. His favorite part of going out really was coming home.
But his reverie kept getting interrupted by Natalie. If it was possible to walk angry, she was doing it. And while he gazed upward, she stared at the sidewalk, glowering.
“Why did I even get dressed up? It’s 8 o’clock and we’re already going back home? Andy, I’m 27 years old, I don’t want to go home at 8 o’clock on a Friday night! I assumed we were going out to a nice dinner!”
He just kept looking at the skyscraper. It was still a ways off, but he thought he could make out which window was theirs. It was on the right-hand side, about a third of the way up, with no furniture visible inside.
“At least you could have told me to wear flats. If I knew we were just going to the bodega down the street to buy a can of beans, I would’ve worn flats.”
He didn’t respond. He just kept walking, with the barest hint of a smile frozen determinedly on his face.
“Andy, how are we going to make our first mortgage payment? I don’t have any money left. Do you have any money left?”
He just kept smiling. He didn’t have any money left. He’d spent his last $200 on a haircut. But it had been worth it.
