She also went to concerts in small clubs in Cambridge and Kenmore Square. Last week she saw a reggae band at the Middle East in Central Square. He never wanted to do something like that, although they used to go to concerts when they were in college.
“It’s the bars I don’t like, standing all night in a crowded room, elbow to elbow with a mob of people.”
“Hey, at least you’re tall. If I can’t work my way to the front, I’m lost in a sea of people, spending the night looking at someone’s back. But I always manage to worm my way to the front.” She laughed nervously, not wanting to reveal too much.
“Concerts are so expensive. We can’t really afford that.”
“That’s why we should see new bands at small clubs. Tickets can be as little as fifteen bucks. There’s such great new music out there, and when they become famous you can say, I saw them at the Middle East and was just this far away.” She reached out and poked him in the chest.
“I don’t know. I like the old stuff. The music we grew up with.”
“Music we grew up with? How old are you? Speak for yourself. I for one am not done growing up. Although at times you certainly act like a pouty little boy, like when you don’t get your way.”
She didn’t tell him she was very much looking forward to February and March.
* * *
Nick was spending his first weekend in Dallas. Katie called to tell her she was home from Oregon for the weekend. Her grandmother passed away and she flew back for the funeral. They made plans to get together Sunday night before she went back to school. She’d sleep over and catch a cab to Logan in the morning. She wanted to come over and see the apartment.
“Sure, you can do that, and there’s a great little bistro not far from here. We’ll go out for dinner. My treat. After all, I’m the working girl and you’re still the struggling student.”
Katie loved what she and Nick did with the apartment, the Pottery Barn sofa mixed with the hand me down pieces they got from her parents when they decided to leave Vermont and move to Florida. “You guys have made such a cozy little home here.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s with the sigh? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Katie, I’m not ready for this. I’m not looking for a husband. I don’t want the ring and the house and the babies. Not yet. I want experiences. I want to travel and have adventures. I can’t be a writer if I just settle down and get married.”
“Why can’t you write about that? Settling down and getting married?”
She rolled her eyes. “Boring. Hey, let’s go. You’ve seen the place. My little love nest. Not.” She paused, bit her lip and looking around the room, clapped her hands. “So, let’s get out of here. We can catch up over drinks at the bar, enough of this boring domesticity.”
“You are still the same old girl I knew in fourth grade. Do you remember we used to love playing with Barbie dolls? We also had some old army guy your dad kept in a box in the attic.”
“Right, GI Joe.”
“Yeah, Joe. He wore army fatigues and had that jeep. Why did your Dad keep his old toys in the attic?”
“Because my Dad kept everything, remember? The nutty old professor.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Well, anyway, Vanessa Morretti moved into the neighborhood and she had everything Barbie. She had the penthouse, the convertible, tons of clothes, and Ken. She always wanted to play Barbie, so we made up all these games. Barbie living single in the city, Barbie going on vacation with her friends.”
“Right, and our Barbies were the friends, so we had to rename them, because Vanessa’s Barbie got to be THE Barbie. They all lived in the penthouse, drove to the beach in the convertible and dated Ken and Joe. That was so much fun.”
“Do you remember the wedding dress? Vanessa even had a tux for Ken, so the games were always working towards the big wedding. We’d have the whole ceremony, our Barbies the bridesmaids and Joe was the best man, and then what would you say?”
“I don’t remember, Katie.”
“Yes you do.”
“All right, all right. I’d say let’s go back to the beginning, because I thought that after Barbie got married, the game would be really boring. Admit it, the beginning of a romance is always much more exciting than the middle or the end.”
“Do you also remember how Vanessa really got into the honeymoon? She would have them humping like crazy. I don’t think you thought that was boring. You’d think you would’ve liked the marriage part better, because Vanessa started banging those dolls together. Was Barbie even anatomically correct for sex?”
“Well, Ken certainly wasn’t.” They both started laughing. She turned to her best friend, a wistful look in her eyes. “Oh Katie, how quaint we were. Saving the sex for after the wedding. Anyway, I should have known I was doomed. I’ll never find true love, because I don’t believe it exists.”
“You think it’s boring.”
“Maybe that too. But it’s because I don’t think I’ve experienced it yet. It won’t be boring if I truly find it, will it?”
“How the hell would I know? I haven’t had a decent relationship since I started grad school. You’re right, let’s get out of here and hit a bar.”
They walked several blocks to a tavern in Washington Square. The room was loud and full of young, successful looking people laughing and having a good time. It was all dark wood and low lighting, a warm and welcoming spot on a winter night.
“Can we grab those seats at the bar? I love sitting at the bar. It’s much more social. Nick never wants to sit at the bar.” Grabbing the last two stools, Katie ordered a cabernet.
“I’ll have a vodka in a rocks glass with a splash of club soda.” She held up her thumb and pointer finger, indicating a small amount. “Just a splash of the soda and a lemon peel. Thanks. Oh, and a chaser of Captain Morgan too. In a shot glass.” She turned to Katie. “I have been dying to try this place, but Nick didn’t like the menu when he checked out their website.”
Katie looked concerned. “A chaser of Captain Morgan? What’s the matter, sweetie? You don’t seem very happy.”
“I am so not happy. I hate my job. It is mind numbingly boring. And Nick. Oh God, Nick. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but he is not the guy I knew in college. I came back from Oregon and he was all grown up. Mr. Bank Auditor. He’s got all these big plans and he’s always telling me what to do, like, you should be putting more money in your 401K. Why aren’t you more aggressive at work? You need to focus on getting a promotion. It’s about time you changed your wardrobe, enough of this casual hippie chick look. You need a more polished style, and a more sophisticated haircut, like a bob or something. How about I get you a gift certificate to Talbots for your birthday in March. Talbots? Is he serious? No one our age shops at Talbots. Some corporate type lady at the bank probably recommended it to him.”
“Wow, he wants you to shop at Talbots? He called you a hippie chick? And I’m sorry but I can’t see you with a bob, although it is a cute look on you. Remember you had one all through middle school?”
Rolling her eyes as their drinks arrived, she took a few sips of the vodka and followed it up by knocking back the shot of rum.
Katie smiled sympathetically. “Anyway, that does sound a little bit overwhelming, but we always knew he was going to have the big career. He’s a great breadwinner type of guy, you know? Marriage material.”
“But I don’t want to get married. I want to travel, have wild adventures and meet interesting people, experiences I can write about. If I had known it was going to turn out like this, I would have broken up with him long ago. I regret spending all of college with just one guy. What was I thinking?” She looked across the bar wistfully. “I regret coming back, too.”
She noticed a tall, attractive blond with a graduated bob like the Spice girl who married the soccer player. She nudged Katie. “Look, over there, across the bar.” Katie stared at the attractive blonde in the black linen dress. “Don’t be so obvious.”
Katie laughed and pretended she was waving to someone past the blond.
“Don’t you think she’s the perfect wife for Nick? I bet she has some job in an art gallery on Newbury Street. Maybe even a trust fund. He should get past the menu and just come for drinks some night, find himself the perfect little soul mate.”
“Looks like she’s already spoken for. Do you see that humungous ice cube on her left hand? Guess she got the memo.”
“What memo is that?”
“The memo that college is really about getting your M.R.S. degree.”
“M.R.S?”
“Missus. You know, find a husband at college, a boy with good prospects. Sometimes I think it might be the way to go. Some girls I go to school with got married and were able to stop working to get a graduate degree. Their husbands have good jobs and cover their living expenses while they go back to school, unlike me, going to grad school while working. It’s taking me two years instead of one.”
“How come I never got this memo? I have thought about it though, like once Nick really starts making the big bucks, I could quit work and write, but Nick would never agree to that. He wants the double income. But really, why go to college in the first place if you’re just going to get married?”
“Because that’s where the boys with good prospects are. My nanny always used to say, remember two things. First, find a man who likes to work. Second.... hmm, I can’t remember the second thing. But I guess the point is, if he likes to work the rest of it all falls into place. You get to stay home with the kids, or you can join the country club and play tennis. If you want to work and use that college degree, you start a little business, but work part time, hiring someone to manage the day to day.”
“I can’t believe you had a nanny.”
“I know, but she wasn’t really a nanny. She was an older woman whose kids were grown up and she helped out because my mom worked. We just called her our nanny. I think we had been watching too much Mary Poppins around that time.” They both started laughing and ordered another round of drinks, including the Captain Morgan.
“We better eat something before we get too drunk. Let’s order the mussels in wine sauce. I bet the food is great here. I love mussels.”
“Oh, and let me guess. Nick doesn’t like shellfish?”
“That’s right. Should we get something else?”
“You decide. Poor baby doesn’t get out much, and when she does get out she has to eat what her boyfriend likes.” Katie leaned over and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “I miss you so much.”
* * *
It started to snow on the walk back home. Feeling a little tipsy, she held onto Katie’s arm. Small flakes drifted aimlessly, nothing heavy enough to start accumulating. Not yet anyway. The real storm was due late tomorrow afternoon. The weathermen were calling for a possible six to twelve inches.
“I hope my flight doesn’t get canceled. I have a huge paper due this week.”
“Your flight is at seven, right? I think you’ll get out of here in time.”
“I wish we lived closer. I could be your shoulder to lean on. You really seem to need one right now. So what are you gonna do about Nick?”
“I’ve been trying to contact people. No one’s looking for a roommate right now. I put an ad on the employee message board at work. I’ll figure it out. Hopefully by the end of March, when this gig of his in Dallas ends.”
“Gig in Dallas. Makes him sound like a rock star.” They both laughed, holding onto each other as she leaned her head back, shouting, “He is so NOT a rock star.”
Sighing, she looked up at the stars, pausing for a moment, lost in her thoughts. “But seriously Katie, we’re laughing about all this MRS shit and finding the boy with good prospects, but where’s the love? Is it all just a business proposition? It sounds so mercenary. I want to fall madly in love and have lots of passionate sex and live happily ever after. And when I die, it will be in my true love’s arms.” She blew a kiss towards the night sky.
Katie smacked herself on the forehead. “That’s the second thing my nanny said. It’s just as easy to fall in love with a boy with money as it is a poor boy.” Katie stopped and hugged her. “Well, you have to keep me posted. You know you can call any time you need to talk. And do not shop at Talbots. Ever.” They squeezed each other tight. “Oh honey, you’re my best friend.”
THE WINE EMERGENCY
Friday before the golf weekend, Ray was working in the bathroom of an old house in Portsmouth. He and his coworker were demolishing the room, ripping down the old fixtures with crowbars. Ray tried to detach the shower unit from the wall, when suddenly, the crowbar snapped in his hand. His fist banged against the wall with a loud thud.
“OWWW! SSSHIT!” He stuck his thumb in his mouth.
His coworker looked over and chuckled. “Watch what you’re doing there Ray, don’t want to lose a finger. That’s not gonna help your golf game this weekend.”
Sophie was in her cubicle, leaning way back in her rolling office chair, staring at the clock on the wall. It was three in the afternoon. Suddenly snapping out of her funk, she sat up, rolled closer to her desk and started working on a pile of checks, entering numbers on an Excel spreadsheet, flipping to the next check as she went. Opening email on the other screen, she started to compose a message to Susan.
Hey Susan. I know you’re a Mad Men fan. Just wanted to share something. Do you remember the episode when Ida Blankenship died in her chair at her desk?
Of course I do. That was hysterical. Loved that episode.
OK, well, I was just sitting here in my cubicle thinking what if that happened to me. Because as you know, Ida sat in a big room with lots of other secretaries and all they had to do was look up once in awhile and see she wasn’t moving. Her head was on the desk and it had been like that for a while. So I started thinking, what if that happens to me? What if I die at my desk?
Sophie, you’re not going to die at your desk.
You don’t know that. I have high blood pressure.
You’re on medication.
So? Anyway, I was thinking, I’m not in the middle of some big secretarial pool. I am in a cubicle. By the time someone finds me, rigor mortis could set in!!!!
That’s not going to happen. People walk by your cubicle. Emails will go unanswered. Dan will eventually notice. TGIF. Enjoy yourself this weekend. Relax!
Emails will go unanswered??? Dan will eventually notice??? How long is eventually? Relax??? That’s funny. That’s what my husband said this morning.
Well he’s right.
Just before they left the office, Susan sent another email.
Sophie, I just remembered something. You know Karen in marketing? Her mother used to work here. One day she had a stroke in her cubicle. She knew something was wrong when she couldn’t lift her hand to dial 911. She ended up surviving the stroke but had some minor paralysis. She later told people, although she couldn’t lift her hand, she was able to roll her desk chair to the cubicle’s opening and when she fell out of the chair, she fell into the walkway and someone passing by shortly afterwards noticed her. That saved her life. Make sure you don’t forget to take those blood pressure meds.
Susan, why are telling me this at four fifteen on Friday when I’m home alone for the weekend? See, I told you it’s not good to work in a cubicle.
They ended up laying her off. She was in editorial and she couldn't make quota after the stroke.
How nice. And on that note, I'm leaving. TGIF
Later that evening, driving home, Sophie fished for her cell phone in her pocketbook on the passenger seat while steering with her other hand, keeping her eyes on the road. When she finally found it, she hit speed dial.
“Hey, Lynn. I need a wine emergency. What are you doing tonight?”
Parking in front of Lynn’s house, she grabbed the bottle of wine she purchased at the state liquor store on the highway, got out of the car and walked up to the large front door, passing beautifully kept perennial beds. She knocked
quickly, opening the door at the same time. The house was decorated with beautiful but quirky furnishings. Sophie walked straight to the kitchen at the back of the house, a large open room with granite countertops and an island where three women gathered, drinking wine and talking.
Lynn was an attractive brunette. People often told her she looked like a famous movie star. She was the only one not sitting at the countertop. Instead she was busy cooking dinner, wiping down the counters, and washing dishes, always in constant motion.
Kelly was a distracted blond who was half listening to the conversation while texting her twenty four year old daughter and checking Facebook on her Blackberry.
Linda was the red head of the group. She was a no nonsense person, very direct, to the point of being blunt.
Sophie took off her jacket and threw it on a chair. “Hey, everybody made it, and on such short notice.”
Kelly looked up from her Blackberry. “Well, Marc’s still in Texas on business. He won’t be home until after midnight. Ashley’s in New York with her boyfriend Connor and Tyler is sleeping over a friend’s house. So I’m free for the night.”
Linda chimed in. “Well, free as you can be while checking in with Ashley every few minutes. So Sophie, how are you doing? Why the wine emergency? You called it.”
“It’s Friday and I’m home alone tonight, Ray’s on his annual fall golf trip. Jesse finally, finally got a job, left for Providence and moved in with Sean. I thought we were going to have a failure to launch problem on our hands, but he’s off. God, it was so easy with his brother. Anyway, empty nest. Loving it.”
The Reverse Commute Page 5
