The Leftovers

touch.
    “What I gotta do is cut out the late-night snacks. Microwave burritos and blueberry pie, crap like that. That’s what’s killing me.”
    Meg let out a soft groan, and Laurie glanced pointedly in the direction of the kitchen, but Kevin didn’t take the hint. He was too distracted by the TV, Jimmy Stewart getting all worked up about something, stuttering and flailing his arms. He snatched the remote off the coffee table and hit the off button.
    “I can’t stand that movie,” he muttered. “Remind me never to watch it again.”
    Without the TV going, the house seemed ominously quiet, almost funereal. The clock on the cable box said it was only twenty after four, but already the evening darkness was moving in, pressing up against the windows.
    “Jill’s not here,” Kevin announced, though it wasn’t really necessary. “She went out about an hour ago, with her friend Aimee. You know about Aimee, right? She’s been living with us since the end of the summer. She’s a good kid, but a little wild.” Kevin chewed his lip, as if pondering a difficult question. “Jill’s okay, I guess. But she’s been having a tough year. She really misses you.”
    Laurie kept her face resolutely blank, not wanting to betray the relief she felt at her daughter’s absence. Kevin she could deal with. He was a grown man, and she could count on him to behave like one, to accept the fact that their relationship had undergone a necessary and irrevocable change. But Jill was just a kid, and Laurie was still her mother, and that was a whole different thing. Kevin rose abruptly from the recliner.
    “I’m gonna give her a call. She’ll be really upset if she misses you.”
    He went into the kitchen to get the phone. As soon as he left, Meg pulled out her pad and scribbled Bathroom? She nodded gratefully when Laurie pointed toward the far end of the hall, and lost no time heading in that direction.
    “No luck,” Kevin announced upon his return, still holding the phone. “I left a message, but she doesn’t always check. I know she’d like to see you.”
    They stared at each other. For some reason, things were a little more awkward with Meg out of the room. Air escaped from Kevin’s mouth in a slow leak.
    “I haven’t heard from Tom. Not since summer. I’m a little worried about him.” He waited a moment before continuing. “I’m worried about you, too. Especially after what happened last month. I hope you’re being careful.”
    Laurie shrugged, trying to let him know she was okay, but the gesture felt more ambivalent than she’d meant it to. Kevin put his hand on her arm, a few inches above the elbow. There was nothing especially tender in the gesture, but Laurie’s skin started to hum beneath his touch. It had been a long time.
    “Look,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re here, but it’s really good to see you.”
    Laurie nodded, trying to convey the sentiment that it was good to see him, too. His hand was moving now, making a tentative up-and-down motion on her arm, not quite purposeful enough to qualify as a caress. But Kevin was one of those men who didn’t go in for a lot of casual contact. He rarely touched her unless he was thinking about sex.
    “Why don’t you stay here tonight?” he said. “It’s Christmas. You should be with your family. Just for tonight. See how it feels.”
    Laurie cast a worried glance in the direction of the bathroom, wondering what was taking Meg so long.
    “Your friend can stay, too,” Kevin went on. “I can make up the bed in the guest room if she wants. She can go back in the morning.”
    Laurie wondered what that meant: She can go back in the morning. Did that mean she herself would remain? Was he asking her to move back home? She shook her head, sadly but firmly, trying to make it clear that she wasn’t here for a conjugal visit.
    “Sorry,” he said, finally getting the hint and removing that distracting hand from her arm. “I’m just feeling kinda down tonight. It’s nice to have some company.”
    Laurie nodded. She felt sorry for him, she really did. Kevin had always loved the holidays, all that mandatory family togetherness.
    “This is a little frustrating,” he told her. “I wish you would talk to me. I’m your husband. I’d like to hear your voice.”
    Laurie felt her resolve weakening. She was on the verge of opening her mouth, saying something like, I know, it’s ridiculous, undoing eight months of hard work in a single moment of