The Accidental Tourist

While Sarah got dressed, Macon took the dog out. It was a warm, golden morning. Neighbors were trimming their grass and weeding their flower beds. They nodded as Macon walked past. He had not been back long enough for them to feel at ease yet; there was something a little too formal about their greetings. Or maybe he was imagining that. He made an effort to remind them of how many years he had lived here: "I've always liked those tulips of yours!" and "Still got that nice hand mower, I see!"

Edward marched beside him with a busybody waggle of his hind end.

In movies and such, people who made important changes in their lives accomplished them and were done with it. They walked out and never returned; or they married and lived happily ever after. In real life, things weren't so clean-cut. Macon, for instance, had had to go down to Muriel's and retrieve this dog, once he'd decided to move back home. He had had to collect his clothing and pack up his typewriter while Muriel watched in silence with her accusing, reproaching eyes. Then there were all kinds of other belongings that he discovered too late he'd forgotten-clothes that had been in the wash at the time, and his favorite dictionary, and the extra large pottery mug he liked to drink his coffee from. But of course he couldn't go back for them. He had to abandon them-messy, trailing strings of himself cluttering his leavetaking.

By the time he and Edward returned from their outing, Sarah was waiting in the front yard. She wore a yellow dress that made her tan glow; she looked very pretty. "I was just wondering about the azaleas," she told Macon. "Weren't we supposed to feed them in the spring?"

"Well, probably," Macon said, "but they seem all right to me."

"In April, I think," she said. "Or maybe May. No one was here to do it."

Macon veered away from that. He preferred to pretend that their lives had been going on as usual. "Never mind, Rose has whole sacks of fertilizer," he said. "We'll pick up some from her while we're out,"

"No one was here to seed the lawn, either."

"The lawn looks fine," he said, more forcefully than he'd meant to.

They shut Edward in the house and climbed into Macon's car. Sarah had brought along a newspaper because there were several furniture ads.

"Modern Homewares," she read off. "But that's all the way down on Pratt Street."

"Might as well give it a try," Macon said. Pratt was one of the few streets he knew how to find.

After they left their neighborhood, with its trees arching overhead, the car grew hotter and Macon rolled his window down. Sarah lifted her face to the sunlight. "Be a good day to go to the pool," she said.

"Well, if we have time. I was thinking of asking you to lunch."

"Oh, where?"

"Anywhere you like. Your choice."

"Aren't you nice," she said.

Macon drove past two unshaven men talking on a corner. Sarah locked her door. Macon thought of what the men would be saying: "What's coming down, man?" "Not all that much."

The sidewalks grew more crowded. Women lugged stringhandled shopping bags, an old man dragged a grocery cart, and a girl in a faded dress leaned her head against a bus stop sign.

At Modern Homewares, huge paper banners covered the plate glass windows.

SPECIAL FOR FATHER'S DAY! they read. Sarah hadn't mentioned that this was a Father's Day sale. Macon made a point of mentioning it himself, to show it didn't bother him. Taking her arm as they entered, he said, "Isn't that typical. Father's Day! They'll capitalize on anything."

Sarah looked away from him and said, "All they seem to have is beds."

"I suppose it began with reclining chairs," Macon said. "A Bar-calounger for Dad, and next thing you know it's a whole dinette set."

"Could we see your couches," Sarah told a salesman firmly.

The couches were all of the straight-backed, Danish sort, which was fine with Macon. He didn't really care. Sarah said, "What do you think? Legs?

Or flush with the floor."

"It's all the same to me," he said. He sat down heavily on something covered in leather.

Sarah chose a long, low couch that opened into a queen-sized bed. "Macon?

What do you say?" she asked. "Do you like what you're sitting on better?"

"No, no," he said.

"Well, what do you think of this one?"

"It's fine."

"Don't you have any opinion?"

"I just gave you my opinion, Sarah."

Sarah sighed and asked the salesman if he offered same-day delivery.

They'd been so efficient about picking out the couch that time remained for other errands as well. First they drove to Hutzler's and bought queen-sized sheets. Then they checked the furniture department for armchairs; there was a Father's Day sale there, too. "Maybe we're on a roll," Sarah told Macon. But they weren't as lucky with the armchairs; nothing looked just right. Not to Macon, at least. He gave up trying and stood watching a kiddie show on a row of television sets.