Ethel set the table while they washed and by the time they came back into the kitchen it was filled with savory smells, the table set, and the roast waiting for Harry to carve.

As Harry carved, Ethel put Suzie in her highchair and asked her to tell her all about the park. Were there other children there?

Uhuh. We watched a game. I was on daddys back.

A game? Didnt you go to the playground, Harry?

Of course, of course. We just stopped for a minute on the way home to watch a football game. I dont even know who was playing.

O Harry, you and football. Dont you get enough on t.v.?

It was just for a minute—here give me your plate. Heres a nice center piece.

And daddys giving me a sprize. What is this about a surprise?

I thought we’d get some I-C-E C-R-E-A-M after dinner. You know -

Cause I was a good girl at the game, wasnt I daddy? Thats a good girl—putting her dinner in front of her—Now you eat this all up.

Whats the sprize daddy?

Now I told you a dozen times, after dinner.

Take it easy, Harry.

Well, ever since I mentioned it shes been haunting me about it.

Well, lets forget about it and enjoy our dinner.

Ethel and Harry started eating their Sunday dinner, but Suzie just toyed with her food, I want my sprize.

Now you listen to me, young lady -

Harry. Dont lose your temper.

But Ive been hearing this all day—Suzie had lowered her head and watched and listened -

But getting yourself upset isnt going to do any good. Youll just ruin our dinner. Relax honey. I’ll take care of Suzie. Now you be a good little girl and eat your dinner. Ethel separated the food on Suzies plate into individual piles and told her to start eating.

Suzie pouted, I was a good girl.

Well, you just continue to be a good girl and eat.

I want my sprize.

You listen to mommy—glancing at Harry, noticing his face redden—and eat. If you dont eat like a good girl youll not only get no surprise, but daddy wont take you to the park again. Now you wouldnt like that, would you?

Suzie toyed with her food for a few minutes, then started whimpering very softly, a few tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. Ethel reached over with her napkin and wiped her face dry. Now you dont have to cry, honey, no one is yelling at you. I dont understand why you are so upset. We just want you to eat your dinner. Now stop crying for mommy. Ethel turned to Harry, What happened at the park, Harry, Ive never seen her in such a state? Harry glared at her, mouth jammed shut.

Suzie continued to whimper softly and shook slightly with a sob. Good girl. I want my sprize.

Harry slammed his fork down on the table and jerked himself up, Goddamn it! I’ll give you a surprise—reaching over to her plate, scooping up a handful of mashed potatoes with gravy and slapping it on her head—Heres your surprise! Ethel and Suzie just stared at Harry, their mouths open, potatoes and gravy slowly sliding down the sides of Suzies face, and then she started crying hysterically. Good! Good! Cry and get it over with! Ethel hugged Suzie as she continued to stare at the potatoes and gravy dripping from Harrys hand.

Morris pushed the papers on his desk into piles, any old pile, and rushed to the elevators. He hated those last minute phone calls. He never could figure out why people waited until five to five to call. He rushed to the elevator, looking at his watch. He could still make the 5’20 if there were no more hangups. The first two elevators went right past his floor because they were filled and he groaned inwardly. He kept looking at his watch, but it didnt seem to do any good so he lit a cigarette and put it out when an elevator stopped and the doors opened. He squeezed himself in and the elevator went directly to the ground floor.

He rushed to the subway and stood on the platform constantly looking at his watch complaining loudly to himself about the service, and what in the hells keeping the train, wishing he could light a cigarette. The more he looked at his watch the more convinced he became that he would miss the 5’20 and end up on the damn 5’30, the cattle car. Eventually the train came in and he pushed and was pushed into the car. He was jammed so close to the guy in front of him that the guys mustache kept tickling Morrises nose, and whoever it was behind him must have had spaghetti and meat balls for lunch with extra garlic. He wondered what time it was.

Everybody flooded out of the train when they reached the terminal and Morris rushed, almost running, toward the proper track. He glanced at his watch and the clocks on the wall and knew it was hopeless. It was already 5’21 and it would take him at least five more minutes to get there no matter how fast he walked and god knows that if they ever left on time they would today. When he got there at 5’25, never, but today… The end of the train was just barely visible when he got to the track. He looked at the dark tunnel for a moment feeling and listening to his heart pound. He bought a paper and waited.

A cattle car, thats what the 5’30 is, a cattle car. And not only that, the 5’30 doesnt know what a schedule is… not even a nodding acquaintance. Who knows what time I’ll get home.

When he reached his station he almost stopped for a moment to breathe the air, but decided to continue rushing to the bus stop, sneaking a few looks at his watch. The bus was there in a matter of minutes and thank god he got a seat. He read about a flood, a hatchet murder, an earthquake that killed 10,000 people, and relaxed.

The short walk to the house was almost pleasant. He looked forward to sitting and taking it easy for a few minutes, if possible, before dinner. The street was relatively quiet, quiet enough to hear the birds. Morris liked to hear the birds. It was so bucolic, like the city was a million miles away. Nice.

He opened the door of his home and was immediately ASSAULTED by the sound of machine guns, cannons and the screams of planes. His 10 year old son Milton was sitting on the floor in the living room surrounded by a few empty bowls and numerous candy wrappers. There were crumbs of crackers, popcorn and potato chips everywhere. Morris stuck his head in the doorway, Hi Miltie, how are you?

Milton stared at the screen.

Morris looked at him for a moment then raised his voice slightly, I said hello. How are you?

Milton stared at the screen.

Morris stared at his son, but couldnt outlast him. Turn it down Miltie.

Milton stared at the screen.

Miltie, I said to turn it down, its too loud. Morrises head was raging, but he just stood over his son, squeezing his newspaper, raising his voice just a little each time he spoke.

His son continued to stare at the screen.

Finally there was a commercial break and Morris tried again, Milton lower the volume.

Milton finally acknowledged his fathers presence by giving him his best Fonzie posture, without getting up. Be cool, eh?

I’ll be cool—grabbing for the control unit and Milton holding tight with both hands. Give me that you -

Look out, look out, ya jerk, ya wanna break it?

I’ll break your head you little -

Morrises wife Maya yelled from the kitchen, Is that you Morris?

He stood up, Yes. Its me.

The movie suddenly came back on with an artillery barrage that caused Morris to drop his paper. He retreated to the kitchen.

Milton stared at the screen.

Maya was turning back the aluminum foil on the t.v. dinners, Dinner will be ready in 20 minutes. A special treat. Yeah?

Your favorite, Salisbury steak. Morris nodded, With homemade water? What? Nothing. What was all that noise, were you yelling at Miltie again? Yelling? How could you tell? I heard you. How could you hear me over that racket? Maya I tell you somethings got to be done. Done? About what? About what? About Miltie. Why, what did he do now? What did he do? Thats it, he doesnt do anything. He doesnt say hello, he doesnt say goodbye. He doesnt say anything. He just sits in front of the television like a blob. He likes it, Morris. And anyway, it keeps him out of trouble. Im his father. He should say hello. Is that something terrible, to want your son, your only child, to say hello? I work all day. I work hard. Like a slave—Maya was nodding her head and continued to nod as she put the dinners back in the oven, Morris following her around the kitchen—to give my family a nice house in the suburbs so you dont have to live in the crowded city. Am I asking for a bugle call when I come home? Am I asking for trumpets and kettledrums? All Im asking for is a little consideration, thats all. Is it asking so much to have him say hello? I always say hello. You say hello, but does he? Maybe I should get a tape recorder and have him say once, only once, hello dad, and then youll play it when I come home. Maya shrugged, Excuse me, Morris, I want to set the table. Maya set the table and Morris continued to follow her around, Im going to make some changes around here. Im going to get some respect from my son. Do you hear? I hear you, Morris, and youre right. You should get some respect. Excuse me while I get the silverware. From now on, when I get home hes to turn that thing off and say hello. Maya nodded, How was your day today? My day? My day? The days I survive very well, its the nights that arent so good. The timer started ringing and Maya took the dinners from the oven. Tell Miltie its time to eat. Morris went into the living room, grim determination steeling his resolve. Come to dinner, Milton.