Every other weekend

She dreads this little ritual, the heartsick drive to McDonald's while in the back, Kate and Timmy in excited bursts, enthuse, wonder where Daddy will take them this time. They're too young for tact she knows but each laugh grinds down her spine, whitens her knuckles on the wheel. She pulls up, exhausted scans the lot; he's late, again... Katie wails, and Timmy sobs, as she repeats: "He'll be here soon." "Soon. He'll be here soon." An age later a rubber squeal announces his arrival. All is forgotten tears covered by laughter as they race over to be hoisted and twirled to the skies. She follows. "Four o'clock Sunday," she says. "Kathleen-" he replies. "Four," she repeats, and before she betrays herself puts on her shades and unsteadily returns to her car.