Free Snow Angels by Stewart O’Nan Page A

still mad at her.”
    â€œMore at myself. You know how I am. I get frustrated and lose it.”
    â€œWhen she gets like that there’s nothing you can do.”
    â€œAnd my mother acts like it’s all my fault.”
    â€œLike she never yelled at you,” Glenn jokes.
    â€œYou know what,” Annie says, “I really don’t think she did.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous. That’s what parents do, yell at their kids.”
    â€œYou don’t yell at Tara half as much as I do. You’re her fun daddy, and I’m mean mommy.”
    â€œOnly because I’m not home anymore.”
    â€œEven when you were there you never yelled at her. You left that up to me.”
    â€œYou’re right,” he admits. “You’re better at it.”
    â€œThank you,” Annie says. “That makes me feel a lot better.”
    â€œI didn’t mean it that way.”
    â€œI know,” she says, “I was just kidding.”
    A speaker over the counter blurts a number she can’t make out.
    â€œThat’s us,” Glenn says, and goes up. Annie watches him, thin in his good slacks, and wonders what kind of drugs he’s on. He’s so calm. She knows he’s in treatment for his depression. When she heard he’d tried to kill himself, she didn’t exactly feel guilty but unobservant. All winter he’d been on the couch. She’d come home from work and he’d be lying there in the dark with the lights out and a bottle on the floor. He’d say crazy things like “Did you ever think you were Jesus?” Maybe he needed the church all along. It’s just sudden, his belief. She’s seen this sort of thing fall apart on him before. Still, he seems so sure. Annie doesn’t want to admit her mother is right, but he really seems to have cleaned himself up.
    When he comes back with the tray, she asks, “You’re working.”
    â€œAt the junkyard. It’s a nothing job but the money’s good. Actually I like it. I was going crazy staying home.”
    The word “crazy” makes Annie flush and she takes a bite of fries. There’s just one bag; they’re sharing.
    â€œI’m going to move out as soon as I get enough money.”
    â€œWhere would you go?” Annie asks, ready to deflect the wrong answer.
    â€œIn town. I don’t know.”
    The burgers are hot and just as good as the real Burger Hut. Hers is medium, the outside charred, just how she likes it; he’s remembered that she loves onion and hates tomato. Eating, she notices that he’s looking around like she is, checking everyone out as if they’re spies.
    â€œI feel like we’re onstage,” he says.
    â€œLike they all know our business.”
    â€œExactly,” Glenn says.
    Annie hasn’t felt this comfortable with him since they split. She wonders if she should be honest and tell him about Brock, tell him not to get his hopes up, though she knows she won’t. There’s no reason. They eat, neither of them taking the last fry.
    â€œSo,” Glenn asks after they’ve balled up the wrappersand jammed them in the cups, “how are you doing?”
    â€œOkay,” she says. “You know. Work, Tara.”
    â€œWould you like to maybe see a movie with me next week?”
    â€œI’m probably on.”
    â€œYour mom says you have Thursdays off.”
    â€œNot always,” Annie says, damning her. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
    â€œOr do you just not want to go with me? I’d understand.”
    â€œIt’s not that. It’s complicated.”
    â€œAre you seeing someone else?”
    â€œNo,” she says automatically. “It’s just strange being asked out on a date by your husband. After everything.”
    Glenn sees he’s beaten and slides the tray to the edge of the table. He gets up. “Well, think about it.”
    â€œNo,” she says,