In the City Gate

He suspected that most fathers didn’t have to untangle themselves from their kids when they tried to leave for work. Of course, most fathers probably left for work in the mornings. “Leaving, Baby,” he called over the din of the pair of screaming preschoolers.

“Love ya,” his wife called back. She leaned away from the computer, puckered, and made the smacking noise of a kiss in his direction. It was impossible to work opposite shifts to EMS so she worked from home as much as possible. He smiled as he narrowly made his escape out into the hall. He liked the times when they were all there and awake when he left – gave him fresh pictures in his mind while he was out. The kids smiling and tussling and his wife draped in one of his old shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. No one would guess that underneath it she was actually skinny. He could tell by the way her eyes sparkled that she had made a sale that day. A good day, or night, for him was measured quite differently.

In another world, but the same city, a suited man hit the snooze button on his cell phone alarm for the umpteenth time. The alarm his wife set to remind him to leave the office. He had the whole commute home to work up what he’d tell her. She should stop buying into the older set at church who harp about how a man who couldn’t be home for dinner because of work should find a new job. That generation had left the current one with a world that no longer spun within the limits of nine to five. He’d had an idea that could lead to a promotion. But only if he acted on it now.

There was talk of a new edict coming down from the mayor's office. A petition went around protesting it. He signed it with a John Hancock kind of brash. They all knew the mayor, the chief of police, and the armload of other officials who, if not outright crooked, were politicians more than problem-solvers. When department members weren’t out saving lives, they were busy making sure they could keep on saving lives. Unlike the politicians, they didn’t have to establish their need or validate their worth. The 8.4 million people stuffed into 305 square miles naturally managed to have over one million emergencies a year.

At the gym that morning, he’d spent more time catching up on the news streams than catching up with his co-workers. He had KP tonight though so maybe he could catch up with them now. Knowing what was going on with everybody personally as well as keeping abreast of the happenings in the neighborhood and the city in general was vital to the job. You had to know the rhythm of your co-workers and you had to know more than the stuff that would make the evening news.

But his earlier phone conversations kept playing back in his head. First it had been the church secretary. Yes, he would very much like to coach the church softball team but his work schedule didn’t allow for it. And yes, he would very much like to supervise the youth cleanup effort following the indoor picnic but, again, work. That secretary kept forgetting how different his life was from most of the rest of members of the suburban congregation. Yes, his life was a little backwards: commuting from the city to the burbs for church. It’s where his wife’s family attended and family is important. Plus, many of those boys simply never saw their fathers, which brought to mind his next phone conversation. It was tricky counseling a kid over the phone with all the guys in the gym able to hear. It was also hard to know what to say to a kid skipping school because he doesn’t see the point since he’s not going to go to college. He doesn’t want to go to college because he doesn’t want to grow up to be like his dad. He doesn’t want to be like his dad because his dad is a suit-wearing, always-working man.

As a man, he knew the Biblical ideals about being in the city gates and providing for one’s family. How do you break that down for kid? A kid who one day is supposed to be a man yet despises what it looks like.

Same thing every morning, he ran for the train and found a seat. He was glad he lived far enough out that it was never standing-room-only when he boarded. He turned to the stock listing, skipping over the news. He was fine knowing nothing about the city in which he worked, or about the community in which he lived. All he needed to know was how to please his boss and do his job. That had always involved brushing up on the numbers on the ride in. And now, he was happy to know, could occasionally involve a Sunday morning round of golf.

There hadn’t been a down moment in the previous eighteen hours. “Hey, baby,” his wife greeted him. “How was work?” He pictured, in rapid succession, flashes from a dozen sitcoms where the wife says that very thing. Usually, however, those husbands are not in dire need of a shower, and the wives are wearing, well, not their husbands’ tee shirts. And usually their husbands don’t answer with, “just turn on the news.”