Page 42 of Buttons

While Meredith chatters about her library books, my eyes track the apartment’s vulnerabilities. The front door only has a deadbolt and chain lock. My family sleeps here every night, unprotected.

“Is something wrong?” Elowen asks, catching my frown as I examine the front door while Meredith continues to chatter.

“Those locks are inadequate,” I say.

Elowen crosses her arms. “This is a safe neighborhood, Julian.”

“Daddy, look at my dinosaur!” Leo interrupts, holding up a plastic T-Rex with a missing arm. “His name is Chomper.”

“That’s great, buddy,” I say, distracted by the sight of exposed wiring near the baseboard heater. “Elowen, that’s a fire hazard.”

“Where?” She leans down to study where I’m pointing. She must need glasses, though, because she squints and says, “I don’t see anything.”

As I doubt the baseboards have been sanitized since Elowen moved in, I crouch down and point closer. Indeed, I’m double sure that there is a peek of wire underneath the baseboard. It’s obvious because the wall is white and the wiring is black. At least exposed half an inch, I clocked it within minutes of being here.

“Oh, that?” She sighs. “The building manager is coming to fix it next week. I barely see it, but they’re already on it.”

“Next week? That’s unacceptable.” I straighten up, already pulling out my phone. “I know an electrician who can be here within the hour.”

“Julian,” she says, her voice taking a sharp edge. “Stop.”

I don’t stop. I can’t. “None of this is okay. This building should be condemned.”

“That’s dramatic, even for you.”

The children have retreated to their bedroom, perhaps sensing the tension rising between us. I lower my voice. “Elowen, you can’t possibly want to raise our children here. The security is nonexistent, the appliances are ancient.”

“The rent is affordable,” she counters. “The neighbors are kind. And, for your information, the appliances are brand-new. They’re not worth twenty grand each, but they’re more than adequate. The school is three blocks away and right next to the library. There’s an enclosed park down the street.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’ Julian. This is how it is.”

I take a deep breath, trying a different approach. “I understand you need space. I respect that. But you don’t have to live like this. There are better options. Do you need more child support? Alimony?”

While we’re still married, I’ve been sending her payments. Just because she’s left me and moved out doesn’t mean I’m going to be an ass and refuse to help her. I don’t want a divorce, so if I can give her the benefits of one without the actual paperwork, then I know I’ll stand a chance to win her back.

Her eyes narrow slightly. “This was my choice, and it’s fine. We’re lucky to live here. Most people can’t afford apartments like this. It’s beyond good enough.”

“‘Beyond good enough’ isn’t ‘exceptional’.” I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my checkbook. “I can help. You’re still my wife. Perhaps a two-story on the beach?”

I fill out a check for an amount that would cover the entire cost of a million-dollar home near my work, tear it from the book, and hold it out to her. “Find somewhere safer and better for the children.”

Elowen glares at the check she refuses to touch. “I know you’ve been out of touch with reality lately, but this is a high-end, luxury apartment, Julian. The children are happy here, and that’s what matters.”

“They don’t know any better.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

“Actually, they do. Trust me when I say, they are having the time of their lives getting to bejustchildren.”

“In a building with faulty wiring and unsecured doors?”

“In a home where they can tape their artwork directly to the walls and build blanket forts in the living room. They get to stare at the ocean and watch for cats along the coast. We’re within walking distance of some amazing local shops. The closest they ever got to any of that before was throughYouTube.”

I stare at her, the check still extended between us. “I’m only trying to provide for my family.”

“No,” she says, stepping back. “You’re trying to control. There’s a difference.”

“That’s not fair.” But isn’t it? Haven’t I always solved problems by throwing money at them? Haven’t I always believed that my way was automatically better?