Gabriel took the helmet from his mom, placed it on his head, then fastened the strap below his chin.
"See you later, Mom," Gabriel said.
"Yeah, see you later, Mom," Daniel added, his voice a perfect echo of his brother's.
Nicole walked back toward the garage and waved as the boys drove off down the road into the distance. As she turned, she saw Jenny from across the road mowing her lawn, and a few blocks down, John was standing there with his bulldog on his front lawn while it barked like crazy. She looked around at all the other houses: couples shouting to their children to get in the car while others kissed their partners goodbye as they headed to work. For Nicole, she was left hugging her own elbows every morning as Robert was absent.
She stood there picturing what it would be like to have her husband with her, to help her deal with the kids, to tell her he loved her before she went to work rather than rising from the bed to find it empty. To sit with her at the table for breakfast and have a cup of coffee together like normal married couples do, while making jokes about how Gabriel needs to cut off his hair and forget the braids or how Daniel needed a shape-up. She missed her life when things were simple and the only things she had to worry about were the kids' grades and work; now she had to mitigate the damage of an absent father while dealing with the disappointment of an absent husband.
Nicole turned into the garage, pulled down the door, and headed back into the house. She looked in the living room first, no sign of Robert, then the kitchen. But there was still no sign of him. He was still upstairs, dead to the world after another night of God-knows-what research while leaving her to deal with the boys as usual.
Nicole headed back into the kitchen and over to the sink where she began to wash up the plates and cups left from last night and this morning's breakfast. Once she finished, she sat back down and began to drink her coffee, wondering if she would ever get the Robert back she knew and loved. For a heartbeat, she closed her eyes and let herself imagine there were no bills and no half-finished science projects eating her husband alive. For that fleeting moment she was at peace, but once she opened her eyes, she was back to the reality she called her life.
She set her mug down to the side, rose to her feet, and headed over toward the cooker again. Eggs, she reminded herself, cracking half a carton into a mixing bowl. The carton was cheap store-brand, yolk splatters on the inside flap, a date stamped in almost-faded ink. They'd switched to no-frills groceries after Robert's grant money dried up, and she still wasn't used to the bland packaging, but she whisked away anyway.
As she looked to the fridge, the framed photo in the center of it caught her attention: Robert in a white lab coat, holding up a glass award the size of a brick, with a smile from corner to corner. A university dean had shaken his hand that day, promising "unlimited professional doors." But that was over a year ago now. A second frame sat below it, and that one showed the boys crowding Robert at the ceremony, Daniel beaming with joy and Gabriel trying his hardest not to grin. Nicole walked over and tapped the edge of the frame with her knuckle. It was something she did every day, a tiny superstitious blessing, then went back to the eggs.
Should I wake him now? she wondered as she eyed the clock on the stove. 8:40 a.m. the clock read, and Robert had a standing 9:30 meeting every Tuesday. In the earliest months of his award, he'd left the house by six: hair neat, suit pressed, laptop zipped. As funding slowed and deadlines slipped, he started leaving closer to seven, then seven-thirty, then "after I tweak this one graph." Last month he'd missed the meeting entirely, lying that he'd caught food poisoning. Nicole had covered for him when the department secretary called—"stomach bug, you know how those hit"—but her stomach had knotted all day.
She poured herself another inch of coffee and decided: Five more minutes. Then she'd go up.
Robert's side of the bedroom smelled like stale coffee and printer toner. Printouts in two ragged stacks sat on the nightstand: graphs, protein sequences, and letters from potential investors with We regret... in the first line. A yellow legal pad lay open across one pillow, black scrawl drifting downhill where the pen had slipped out of his hand sometime before dawn.
As the sunlight finally squeezed past the curtains and hit Robert square in the face, his eyelids twitched. He grunted, rolled left, then right, and blinked up at the ceiling like it had wronged him. He forced his head sideways toward the clock.
"Eight-forty?" His voice cracked as his brain registered the number a beat later. "Eight-forty! Why didn't someone wake me up!"
He flung the blanket aside, nearly sending the legal pad to the floor, and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom. The splash of cold water on his face slapped the last dream fragments away. He didn't bother shaving; he didn't have the time nor the energy and was back out in under a minute, dragging yesterday's crumpled shirt from the hamper. Deodorant, blazer, tie in a crooked knot. Papers fluttered behind him as he barreled downstairs. Yet when he reached halfway down, he smelled a scent he hadn't smelled in months: freshly made food. He paused, inhaling the smell, then ran down to the bottom of the steps and put on his shoes.
Nicole heard the noise and came rushing out of the kitchen to meet him. When she got to the stairs, Robert was seated at the bottom with his work files next to him as he scurried to put on his shoes.
"Morning, honey. Really late. Gotta run," Robert said as he finally got on his last shoe and headed for the door.
This time he wasn't quick enough. Nicole ran and stepped in front of him and pressed her palm flat against his chest.
"Shower... now. You stink of yesterday's sweat, printer ink, and coffee," she said as she gave him a stern look.
Robert leaned into one armpit and his head flung back; he knew he stunk but knew if he took his time to get ready he'd be late.
"No time," he said, his voice still croaky from lack of sleep and water.
Nicole wasn't budging. In the palm of her hand sat Robert's keys; she held them up and dangled them in front of him. "Then it looks like you better get an Uber. But knowing you, smelling you, you won't, so you'd better either start walking or head straight back up those stairs and freshen up."
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Robert, you heard me. Either get up those stairs and make yourself presentable or walk. Either way you're going to be late; at least my option will make you presentable."
Robert's shoulders slumped as he let out a deep sigh. He leaned down, unlaced his shoes, took them off, then ran up the stairs into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As the water shot down from above cleaning Robert's skin, Nicole used the time he was up there to plate his food: two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and two sausage links with a cup of coffee, his favorite.
Robert washed the dirt from his body, but while the dirt may have been gone, the thing that haunted him wasn't. He had so much work to do and time wasn't on his side. He turned the knob on the shower and the water stopped. He took in the moment of silence for a second then stepped out, put on his towel, and walked over to the sink. He began to brush his teeth then dried his skin, applied cream, and finally put on some fresh clothes then headed downstairs to join Nicole for breakfast.
He returned in a fresh pair of black trousers and a blue shirt that matched the tie his father had given him years back. His hair was still a little wet, but at least he smelled like he belonged somewhere. He reached for the plate. "I'll eat it on the way."
"Oh no you won't, Robert James." Nicole pulled out a chair. "Sit. We used to eat together. Or do you not even remember since it's been so long?"
Robert glanced at the clock again with a nervous expression pinned to his face. 9:15, the clock read, but he knew there was no way he was getting out of this one, so he walked over and sat in the seat. "We don't have time for a long talk."
"I only need five minutes." She sat across from him, elbows on the table. "You've been killing yourself chasing this project. You missed Gabriel's math award last month. You skipped Daniel's first real three-pointer Saturday. You know what both boys had in common on those nights? They both looked to the crowd for their father and you were missing, nowhere to be seen. We don't get to redo these moments, Robert, and the kids will always remember."
Robert poked at the eggs. "I'm doing what I have to. I don't want to miss these milestones in their lives, but my sacrifice will be worth it in the long run. The university fronted one grant check; the rest vanished. Investors want proof I can't get without equipment I can't afford. I'm in a knot."
Nicole softened her jaw, but her eyes stayed firm. "We get that. We cheer for you. But you've got two kids and a wife who barely gets to lay eyes on you. That should never happen with a husband and his wife."
He stared at his fork while his mind scrolled back through all the all-nighters, the empty coffee cups that sat at his desk, and the voicemail messages he kept promising he'd return.
"My parents pulled double shifts in Queens laundromats so I could be 'the family's success story.' I can't fail now. I can't let their sacrifice be in vain," he said.
"And you won't," she said. "But burning your candle out at both ends won't make your work any better. You will start to see diminished returns and it will only get worse. You can't honor your parents' sacrifice by making new sacrifices your own kids never asked for."
The words landed deep; Robert felt it in his chest. As he paused to think over her words, he knew she was right. He swallowed his food and forced himself to meet her stare. "I'll finish the data run this month. Then I'll breathe. I promise."
Nicole watched his eyes and saw the fire and the fear behind them, then slid the keys across the table. "I believe you. Eat. Then go remind those investors why they should be begging for a piece of your next breakthrough. And tonight? Be home before the boys crash. They won't say it, but it matters."
Robert exhaled. "I'll try," he said as he took his first real bite of hot food in months. "Ummm," he said as he closed his eyes. "I've missed this. I've become too used to tasting food that was usually accompanied by lab fluorescence."
Robert's eyes opened and the pair began to laugh together like the old times. Nicole's shoulders finally loosened and for the first time in months, they shared a moment where Robert didn't feel like a ghost, but rather a partner who was present. The day that already felt too full just felt a little bit more possible.