Binocular

I think Debbie was a soccer mom, something like the mom of my husband’s first child. My husband’s first wife is a woman I respect from afar, because she has several pairs of clean jeans and cuts her hair at the barber and imports some good henna for herself from Kensington Market. I saw her once open her son’s school door on a Sunday for some soccer event and it was a heavy door and she opened it like a man, and I liked that about her. I picture Debbie as the same type of woman. Debbie had a baby, a daughter, to whom she was devoted. The child’s father was out of the picture. The last thing he did before he left was get an egg salad ready to take to a pot luck. He decorated the salad with paprika sprinkled through a stencil of his name, which he had cut out of cardboard, and he was proud of this creation but he was of course drunk.