“That’s not how it works,” I said.

“But you said I was zero, and that zero was a number. There’s seven numbers. That means, I’ll be seven, not six.”

It was too much to process before I’d finished my first cup of coffee. “When did you think of this?”

Instead of answering, she shrugged and I thought again how much she resembled her mother. At that moment, Vivian stepped back into the kitchen, her face slightly flushed.

“You okay?” I asked.

At first, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me. “Yeah,” she finally offered. “I’m fine.”

“Everything okay with your mom?”

“I guess so. I haven’t talked to her in about a week. Why would you ask about Mom?”

“Wasn’t that who you were talking to?”

“No,” she said.

“Who was on the phone?” I finally asked.

“Rachel Johnson.”

“Who?”

“She’s one of the vice presidents at Spannerman. I interviewed with her on Wednesday.”

She added nothing else. I waited. Still nothing.

“And she was calling because?” I persisted.

“They’re offering me the job,” she said. “They want me to start Monday. Orientation.”

I wasn’t sure whether congratulations were in order, but I said it anyway and even in that moment, I still had no inkling whatsoever that my entire world was about to be turned upside down.

Work that day didn’t feel… normal, and that was saying something, since nothing about work had seemed normal since I’d gone out on my own. I began to put together PowerPoint presentations for the meetings I’d scheduled. They would offer a general overview of various ad campaigns I’d worked on, discussed the dollar value of advertising for the client’s specific business, and preview the kind of work I could do for them. If the potential clients showed interest, I’d follow that up with a more specific proposal at a second meeting.

Even though I made significant headway, my thoughts would occasionally wander back to what I learned that morning.

My wife would be going to work on Monday, for Spannerman.

Good God.

Spannerman.

Still, it was date night and I was looking forward to spending the evening with Vivian. When I walked in the door, however, I felt as though I’d stepped into the wrong house. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were a mess, and London was parked in front of the television, something I’d never seen at that time of night. Vivian was nowhere to be seen, nor did she answer when I called for her. I walked from one room to the next, finally locating her in the den. She was seated in front of the computer researching all things Spannerman, and for the first time in our married life, she seemed almost frazzled. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and her hair looked as though she’d been twisting strands of it for most of the day. Beside her was a thick binder – she had printed and highlighted a thick sheaf of pages – and when she turned toward me, I could see that romance was not only off the table, but hadn’t even crossed her mind all day.

I hid my disappointment and after some small talk, I suggested we order Chinese food. We ate as a family, but Vivian remained distracted, and as soon as she finished eating, she went back to the den. While she clicked and printed, I cleaned the house and helped London get ready for bed. I filled the bathtub – London had reached the age where she could wash herself – brushed her hair and lay beside her in bed reading an assortment of books. In another first, Vivian simply kissed our daughter goodnight without reading a story, and when I found her back in the den, she told me that she still had another few hours to go. I watched television for a while and went to bed alone; when I woke the following morning, I found myself staring at Vivian and wondering how late she’d finally turned in.

She was back to her normal self soon after waking, but then again, it was Saturday morning. She was out the door right on schedule for her Me Time, and for the fifth time in seven days, I found myself playing Mr. Mom, if only part-time. On her way out the door, Vivian asked if I could take care of London for the day; she told me that she hadn’t quite finished the research from the night before and also had some things she needed to grab for work.

“No problem,” I said, and as a result, London and I found ourselves back at my parents’ place. Marge and Liz had gone to Asheville for the weekend, so London had my mom all to herself most of the day. Nonetheless, my mom found time to sidle up to me and mentioned that since I’d failed in my task of getting my dad to the doctor, Marge would be bringing him on Monday.

“It’s good to know that one of our kids really cares about their father,” my mom remarked.

Thanks, Mom.

My father, as usual, was in the garage. When I walked in, he poked his head around the hood of the car.

“You’re here,” he said to me.

“I thought I’d swing by with London.”

“No Vivian again?”

“She has some things to do for work. She got a job and starts on Monday.”

“Oh,” he said.

“That’s it?”

He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his hands. “It’s probably a good thing,” he finally said. “Someone in your family should be earning some money.”

Thanks, Dad.

After visiting with him for a bit – and with London happily baking with Nana – I sat on the couch in the living room, absently watching golf. I’m not a golfer and I don’t generally watch golf, but I found myself staring at logos on golf bags and shirts while trying to calculate how much money had gone to the advertising agencies who’d come up with that idea.