These Dreams of You

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Their last hours in London, the family continues in the hush of what’s happened, no one speaking, all domestic blasts defused, too little oxygen among them for any volume. When the kids are out of earshot, Zan tells Viv, “The bank took the house today,” and at first she doesn’t say anything. “It’s posted on the loan website.”

Finally she nods. “Today? You mean right now?”

“Well,” he shrugs, “today or yesterday. Nine hours between here and L.A., or eight hours — I’m not sure.” After a few seconds he says, “So we don’t have a home any more.”

“Well,” Viv answers, “we don’t have a house.”