Deep as the Marrow

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Special thanks to Robert Surgent for sharing his treasury of Stupid Car Tricks.

Also, thanks to Mary, Meggan, Coates, Parvez Dara, Harriet McDougal, Steven Spruill, Al Zuckerman, and the National Drug Policy Foundation.

Fear by day and night, fear as deep as the marrow.

—James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

1

“… and then you know what Jimmy did?” John Vanduyne struggled to concentrate on his six-year-old daughter’s story about the baddest boy in her kindergarten class. It wasn’t easy. His gaze kept shifting back to the angry face on the screen of the little TV on the kitchen side counter.

“No, Katie,” he said. “What did he do?” Katie slurped up a big spoonful of her Lucky Charms and chewed as quickly as she could.

Morning was the brightest part of the kitchen’s day, but even now, with the spring sun cascading through the windows, it was still fairly dim. A 1970s kitchen, with dark-oak cabinets and furniture, a Congoleum floor, and harvest-gold appliances and countertops. If he ever decided to buy the place, he’d want to brighten it up. But each year he put off the decision and renewed his lease.

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