Baxter Falls, Connecticut

Sean smacked his hand on the black vinyl dashboard to kick-start the air conditioning. The scorching rays filtered through the windshield, turning the sedan into a microwave. Sean lowered the window and accelerated the car. The dog days of summer had finally arrived. A quick whiff of a farmer fertilizing his fields caused him to roll up his window promptly.

As tiny droplets collected on his bushy eyebrows, Sean said feverishly, “I’m sorry, I know I promised you, but I just can’t take it any longer.” His right hand slid off the steering wheel and struggled to remove his thin black tie, anchored by two silver pins adorned with F. D. He violently repositioned the rearview mirror as the vehicle veered toward the shoulder. “Sean, please keep your eyes on the road,” Blair pleaded. “I never get to see you in your uniform. You promised. How about a compromise? I’ll let you take it off, but when we get to my parents’ house, put it back on, at least for the ten minutes we’re there, okay?”

“I thought it would be a quick picture and a birthday gift. But now it’s developed into a family portrait and visiting your parents. Will this day ever end?”

“It’s the chief that set up the appointment for your portrait. The Elks requested the picture for the awards ceremony. I thought it’d be nice to have a family portrait. My parents are so hard to buy for, and it would make a great Christmas present. They do so much for us and ask so little. Besides, I don’t want to go. We need to go. Mom keeps asking how I’m feeling lately, and I think she suspects something. We should tell them we’re expecting. And with her starting chemo soon, she needs some happy news. Dad keeps calling, asking when I will pick up the car seat. He feels so guilty for breaking the old one.