The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  Sophie turned to Ray, extremely annoyed. “What on earth were you doing? How could you move so slowly? The nuns in the Sound Of Music moved faster than you, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m tired, okay? I couldn’t think fast enough. It was a backbreaking day and it’s been a long summer. He’s gone next weekend. I can’t take much more of this. Thank God he finally found a job and a place to live. It’s torture having him back here. Grown children aren’t meant to live with their parents. I’m tired. Exhausted.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes in despair. “You have no idea the kind of day I just had.”

  Too late to talk about it, she’d try to put it out of her mind. If she brought it up now, Ray would just say some trite words of comfort to make her feel better. He often dismissed her fears, swept them under the rug, trying to cheer her up, instead of exploring the root of her worries and anxieties. She was too exhausted to get into it right now. The argument with Jesse distracted her. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that after witnessing a random, senseless loss of life, she returned home to find her own problems picking up right where they left off. The kitchen was dirty and needed cleaning. Jesse was willfully acting out, taking the car although he wasn’t supposed to, her husband too tired from a hard day at work to respond to the situation adequately.

  Ray turned and walked back into the house, got a beer from the fridge, went out to the deck and down to the river.

  Sophie stood in the driveway, looking up at the star strewn sky. She wanted to make a wish but she knew the wish needed to be made on the first star she saw. Tonight there were too many to say which one she saw first. She decided to skip the first line of the childhood ditty.

  “I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. Please let Jesse get home safe and sound, tonight and every night.” She blew a kiss to the whole night sky, thinking that had to work.

  Ray passed through a stand of Eastern white pines near a creek that ran along the back of the house and into the river. Tall reeds and cat o’ nine tails gently swayed in the warm breeze. A hammock hung between two tall trees.

  Hoisting himself onto the hammock, he opened his beer, pitched the cap into the woods and took a long cold swallow. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small wooden pipe and a Ziploc baggie. With his beer bottle between his legs, he loaded the pipe. Quietly drinking his beer and smoking, he relaxed to the music of the gurgling creek accompanied by the peeping and chirping of frogs and insects.

  Back in the house, Sophie slowly climbed upstairs to bed, first stopping in the bathroom. An addition was being built off the back of the house, a drop cloth covering the opening. An old crank out style window now looked into the new room. Rolls of insulation and pallets of sheet rock were cluttered amongst a claw foot tub and other bathroom fixtures. Looking through the window into the unfinished room, she sighed.

  Finally collapsing onto her bed, she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, flipping her pillow several times. Sleep eluded her, so she reached for the remote by the side of the bed. On one of the cable news shows, several pundits were discussing the impending debt ceiling fight. Sophie groaned, shutting the TV off.

  Thinking about her company picnic that afternoon, she wondered how she would ever get to sleep. Wishing she’d told Ray right when he got home, she hoped she wouldn’t have nightmares. She picked up a book and started to read.

  Ray came in the bedroom an hour later and saw Sophie sleeping with the light still on, a book open on her chest. The Grownups’ Guide to Running Away From Home. He picked up the book, put it on the night table, shut off the light and got into bed without waking her.

  At around three a.m., Sophie was awakened by the sound of the train blowing its whistle as it approached the tracks across the river from her house. She remembered Jesse had gone out that night, so she got up and headed down the hall, walking through the bathroom into the addition. She could hear the fan blowing behind his closed door. Ever since he was a little boy, he needed the fan on, even in the dead of winter. The white noise helped him sleep. Although she knew he must be in there, she quietly opened the door and peeked in to make sure he was home.

  DEAD CELEBRITIES

  She worked in the suburbs but lived in Boston, just outside of Cleveland Circle, with her college boyfriend Nick. She met him at a Halloween party her freshman year. The theme of the party was dead celebrities. She came as Marilyn Monroe, wearing a low cut, sexy white dress with a padded pushup bra, false diamond necklace and a blonde wig. He was wearing a suit.

  He was a little too conservative looking, wearing a suit at a frat party. His hair was close cropped and parted on the side, a Boy’s Regular haircut. His face clean-shaven, his brown eyes soulful, like a Saint Bernard’s. Those eyes made him look very kind. On the other hand, he was much taller than her, which could be awkward. She knew he was not her type, but for some reason she was drawn to him. Maybe it was the eyes and his shy smile. Maybe she just needed a new type. “Who are you supposed to be?” she asked.

  “Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “Hum. So, George, you’re not really good at coming up with costume ideas, is that what you’re saying? You just grabbed a suit and called it a costume?”

  He looked puzzled. “My name is Nick not George. Do I look like a George to you?”

  “But you’re George Bailey tonight, right?” She threw her head back and laughed loudly. “Have you ever actually watched It's a Wonderful Life, George? Come on, what’s your favorite scene?”

  “I’ve watched it, but it was a long time ago, and you’re right. I’m not very good at costumes. I hate Halloween. So I threw on this suit and my roommate came up with the idea of... who is it? George Something or other?”

  “George Bailey. My family watches the movie every Christmas. For some reason I have always loved this tiny scene, it actually happens a few times in the movie. George is at the staircase and the knob at the top of the banister keeps coming off in his hands. You know, they live in an old house? There’s something very touching about that scene. I find myself drawn to imperfect things and the fact that they never fix it. I grew up in an old house, and believe it or not, the knob on our newel post was loose too. My Dad was not very handy, so he never fixed it either.”

  “Vaguely. I remember the scene vaguely. Why wouldn’t you want to fix something like that?”

  “Interesting question. My Dad was a firm believer that we learn more from our mistakes than our successes. I like to think that he left it like that to remind us that no one is perfect. That’s what makes us human and gives us the capacity for empathy. Don’t you agree?”

  “I really don’t know. I would have fixed it.”

  She purred and spoke in her best whispery Monroe like voice, fiddling with his tie. “I know this is going to be hard for you, because I don’t think you really saw the movie, but stay in character, George.”

  Grabbing his hand, she dragged him to the living room floor. “Come on, dance with me, then maybe later tonight I’ll tell you the plot of my latest movie. Some Like It Hot? Have you seen that one?”

  Later that night, they went back to his dorm room. She thought she noticed a look of disappointment when she took off her costume to reveal long brown hair and much smaller breasts. Despite their differences, they quickly became an item and dated the rest of their college years. He seemed, at least for the time being, to be Mr. Right. She had a tendency to live in the moment and wasn’t really thinking beyond right then.

  He was much more cautious and conventional than her. This was sometimes the source of numerous arguments, but most of the time they had a lot of fun. He seemed to like the fact that she was a little unconventional. Dating her was his one act of rebellion.

  He had a car and they went into Boston to Red Sox games and concerts. On Sundays, they would sometimes drive up to Cape Ann with a cooler of beers and a picnic. They walked the beach, making love behind the sand dunes.

  He was majoring in a
ccounting. She was studying creative writing. He often asked why she had chosen that major. “What kind of job are you going to get when you graduate?”

  “Do you think college is all about getting a job? Shouldn’t it be about getting a well-rounded education? Becoming an informed, thoughtful, knowledgeable person?”

  “Hey, you’re the one with school loans. I would think you would be concerned about getting a job and being able to pay them.”

  “I have more scholarships than loans. I’ll only owe about twenty thousand when I graduate. That isn’t that bad, considering other kids’ loans. Not everyone’s as rich and fortunate as you, or did you forget about that?”

  “Oh right. I’m dating the smart girl.” He kissed her and they dropped the subject.

  Before they knew it, four years flew by and they were soon to be the Class of 2008, whether they were ready or not. Before he even graduated, Nick landed a job as an auditor for a bank. He credited this to planning ahead and doing an internship his junior year. She, on the other hand, chose to study abroad in Paris and wasn't seriously looking for work.

  “I am intentionally not planning ahead,” she told him. “I am living in the moment and enjoying it. Life is short and we will never be here in this time and place again.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’d like us to move into Boston together this summer, but you’ll need to pay your half of the rent. I can help you rework your resumé, give it more of a business angle. How about I talk to a friend of mine in HR at the bank?”

  “I’m a creative writing major, what would I do at a bank?”

  “Maybe advertising, promotional writing. The HR department sends out a company newsletter and targeted reading on motivational stuff like, Becoming a Better Manager, or the one I just read, Employee Work Passion. Someone must be writing that stuff, right? What? Why are you looking at me like I have two heads?”

  “Do you honestly think that is what I want to write? You haven’t even started the job yet and you’re already reading their corporate propaganda? Work passion? In a bank? Who are you?”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help. You’re the one with school loans coming due a few months after we graduate. And it’s not propaganda, it’s team building.”

  “Will you stop with the school loans? I think I can come up with two hundred dollars a month even if I’m waitressing. And where did you ever get the idea I would want to play on a team? Have I ever mentioned playing team sports? I was on the school newspaper, remember?”

  “Waitressing? Is that your plan? Four years of college and you’re going to waitress?”

  “No. I am going to write the great American novel or the next big Indie screenplay, maybe work for a newspaper. I’d only be waitressing to pay the bills until I get my first big break, and with this attitude, you are not coming to Sundance with me.”

  They continued to fight and argue. Nick was eager to start his illustrious career. His goal was to become the CFO, Chief Financial Officer, of a large corporation. What Nick refused to see was, she wasn’t ready for any of that. She had another plan. Her best friend from grade school was moving to Oregon to attend graduate school. Katie wanted her to come along for the drive out West. They would have most of the summer to travel and sightsee. They planned to hike the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon and any other canyon between Boston and Portland, while also visiting the big cities along the way, such as Chicago, Denver and Las Vegas.

  Zigzagging their way to Oregon in Katie's Prius, just think of the gas they’d save. Planning to camp and cook most of their meals, they could travel the entire summer for a little over a thousand dollars. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

  She finally told him about her plans the week before graduation. Nick was angry and not very keen on the idea at all. “Wasn’t junior year in Paris the opportunity of a lifetime?”

  “Yes, but if you’re lucky you get many opportunities in life and you need to pursue them.”

  “You should be pursuing a job, not a camping trip.”

  “Who are you? My father? I need experiences to write about.”

  Nick scoffed. “Your crazy father would tell you to go to Oregon with Katie. Listen, I can’t promise you I will want you to move in when you get back.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not sure I want to settle down into that kind of relationship. I’m not ready for a commitment like that. Maybe I’ll want to stay in Oregon for a while, or head south to L.A. It is the place to be if you’re trying to write a screenplay. And by the way, my father is not crazy.”

  “I think you’re making a big mistake.”

  “Haven’t we talked about this? If it is a mistake, I will learn from it.”

  “Why would you purposely set out to make a mistake?”

  “I said IF it’s a mistake. Right now I don’t think it is and I won’t know until I try.”

  “You’re just wasting time. You’re avoiding responsibility.”

  “I absolutely don’t see it as a waste of time. It’s something I need to do. Hey, Steve Jobs quit college and backpacked through India, didn’t he? Tripping on acid no less, and look where he is now. Stay hungry. Stay foolish. Right?” She left for Oregon the week after graduation.

  SQUIRRELS IN THE BATHROOM

  Six in the morning, mid-September, the alarm went off in Sophie and Ray’s bedroom. Sophie moaned, then reluctantly got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she sat on the toilet waiting for hot water. They had a well, so it took a few minutes. Looking through the window into the addition, she saw three squirrels running across the rafters.

  “Holy shit. God damn it.”

  She jumped off the toilet, pulled the drop cloth a little tighter at the opening to the addition and hopped in the shower. Washing quickly, every once in awhile she peeked out from behind the shower curtain. Quickly rinsing the shampoo from her hair, she closed her eyes and whispered breathlessly, “I love my life. I love my life. If a squirrel runs in here I will definitely have a heart attack. Life is good. Life is good. That’s what the T-shirt says, right?"

  Downstairs, Ray was making coffee. Back in the bedroom, Sophie made the bed while watching TV, the news still covering the debt-ceiling crisis. Congress would not approve raising the ceiling and the government might shut down again. How nice would that be, she thought, to simply say, I don’t like how things are going here, so I’m shutting work down. As a matter of fact, she’d like to shut work down today and stay home. She had a million other things she needed to take care of, not the least of which was squirrels in her house. She turned the TV off and ran downstairs.

  Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she started making lunches. Ray was sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal with bananas, drinking coffee. “Hey, Ray? There are three squirrels in the addition.”

  “There are what?”

  “I saw three squirrels running across the rafters in what should be the master bathroom.”

  “Damn, I thought I heard something in there the past few nights. It’s probably that bastard who kept climbing up the bay window. I think they’re entering under the soffit at the back of the house.”

  “You know these squirrels? You saw these guys crawling up the back of the house?”

  “Well, I didn’t see them entering the house. I suspected they were, but I didn’t know for sure. I did try getting them with the pellet gun the other day.” He paused. “I’ve been watching them.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes, put her hand on her hip and copped an attitude. “Hmmm, okay. Did you ever think about closing up the hole below the soffit? I mean you just said that’s where you suspect they’re getting in.”

  “Calm down, I’ve got an idea. A guy I work with had squirrels in his attic and he’s got this strobe light thing that scares them away. It gets them out and after a few days they stop coming back. I’ll stop by and get it from him on my way home. I’ll take care of it. There are probably babies in there somewhere. We’ve gotta get them out too. I’ll fix the sof
fit once they're gone.”

  “Great. Just great. Oh, and by the way, some collection agency has been bugging me about a co-pay for Central Health that I know I already paid. I am so sick of dealing with these idiots. I do this all day at work, Ray. People who don’t know why I sent them a check, people who don’t cash their checks, the check was in my pocket and I washed it in the laundry, I lost my check, the dog ate my check blah, blah, blah. Who are these people? I get a check and I run to the bank, because nine times out of ten the money’s been spent before I get it there.

  "Then I have to come home and deal with Central Health, who received my check and cashed my check, but have turned me over to a collection agency for not paying the bill. But I paid the bill. They just didn’t do their job, which would be recording my check that they received. So I have to do their job. I have to find the canceled check, print a copy of the check and send it to them. Maybe I should stop by their office and record it for them. But Ray, you know what the real kicker is? When I was unemployed those fourteen months, I sent them my resumé.” Pausing to take a deep breath, she began to shout. “Looks like they hired the wrong person. I could be working ten minutes from home, God dammit. Instead I’m doing their job and I’m not on the payroll.”

  Getting all worked up, she wielded the bread knife in her hand, slapping mayo on the sandwich. She dramatically sliced the sandwich in half, angrily tore a piece of plastic wrap off the roll, wrapped the sandwich and dropped it in the small cooler Ray used as a lunch box. She continued her rant while grabbing a yogurt, a bottled iced tea and an apple from a bowl on the table in front of Ray. He ducked and covered his head with his hands, laughing and pretending he was afraid of her. Still chuckling, he got up from the table, brought his bowl to the sink and poured himself another cup of coffee.