The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  “I have to get ready for work. The snow is slowing down but it looks like we got eight inches out there.” She leaned over to kiss him. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto the bed.

  “Ahha, I gotcha.” He kissed her. “Hey no fair, you brushed your teeth.”

  “I have to go to work. I can’t miss my train out of North Station. Don’t you have to work?”

  “No, the framers pushed us off until tomorrow. Come on. Call in sick. We could make a snowman in that park across the street. Maybe have a snowball fight. I bet you could kick my ass, Miss Vermont. We could go to a museum afterwards. Come on. Please?”

  She was contemplating his proposal when he started tickling her under her arms. She immediately started laughing hysterically as they rolled around on the bed while she tried to get away from him.

  “Stop. Please stop. I am really, really ticklish.” She was trying to catch her breath as she kept laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  He was laughing that low, sexy laugh she dreamed about waking up next too. “I’m not stopping until you say yes.” He started tickling her neck.

  “No, No, not the neck,” she gasped breathlessly. “That’s the worst. I’ll call, I’ll call in sick.”

  “You promise? You’re not trying to get away, are you?”

  “I promise. I’m dying here, I have to call in sick.” He let go of her and she lunged for her cell phone on the night table. Lying on her stomach, she scrolled her contacts then rolled on her back and looked at him. “Shh.”

  He mouthed the word “okay” and got up to go to the bathroom.

  When he got back, she had just finished sending a text to Nick. Sometime during the night, he sent a message asking about the snowstorm. She answered him back, although it was four in the morning in Dallas, and she ran the risk of him waking up and calling her back. Nick was a heavy sleeper and might think it was four in the morning here and call to ask why she was up at that hour. She decided to shut the phone off after she sent the message. She’d tell Nick she forgot to charge it.

  Her overnight guest was crawling up from the bottom of the bed, kissing her along the way from her toes to her neck. He stopped, looking deep into her eyes, tracing her lips with his finger and asked, “How did that go?”

  “Snow day.”

  He laughed with his mouth closed, one of those secret, satisfied kind of laughs, as they rolled over, all tangled arms and legs.

  * * *

  A pale moon lit the room, it was turning out to be a cloudy day and although the worst of the storm was over, snow still drifted past the window. She was in a post-coital stupor, happy and warm in the circle of his arms. He drifted back to sleep. She pushed herself up and gazed at his sleeping face, his strong jawline and long eyelashes. Why do boys have such great eyelashes she wondered?

  He had a tattoo on his left shoulder, a black outline of two hearts entwined. She frowned and wondered what that was. She traced the hearts with her finger, around and around. There was no beginning or end. He started to stir, moved his hand through her hair and looked down at her finger moving along the tattoo. “Aaah, I bet you’re curious about that, huh?” His voice was sleepy. Picking up her hand, he put the tips of her fingers in his mouth, kissing them.

  “Slightly curious.”

  “I have to warn you. It’s a sad story.”

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  He cleared his throat and sat up a little. “It’s for my Mom and Dad. They died in a car accident my senior year in high school. An icy night the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh my God, that’s awful.” She didn’t know what to say so she squeezed his hand. He slipped his fingers through hers and held her hand tighter.

  “Yeah, it was really awful. No sugar coating that one. My sister was home from college, thank God. So I wasn’t alone in the house when the cops came. My aunt and uncle live in Newburyport too, the uncle I work with, ya know?” He took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Dave’s my mom’s brother. He and my aunt Helen never had kids so they hung out with us all the time. They used to babysit us a lot when we were little kids. They came right over and saved us immediately. Took care of everything. My sister stayed around ‘til Christmas but decided my parents would want her to finish college, so she went back to Amherst in late January.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how you felt.”

  “Yeah, anyway, I lived with Dave and Helen, Just barely finishing high school. I was never much of a student. My sister Ava is the brains of the family, and my parents' death sure didn’t help things. Dave got me the apprenticeship. He must have had to pull some strings to get me in. My grades sucked.” He laughed, a hollow sounding laugh this time.

  “To make a long, sad story short, a year into the apprenticeship, Dave thought it would be a good idea to make an apartment above his garage. I think he thought I needed my own space or something. So we worked on it together. It’s really cool, one big room with a horseshoe bar at the far end. There’s a small kitchen at the back and a pretty good size bathroom with a whirlpool tub. You’ll have to come over sometime.”

  “I’d love to.”

  He tousled her hair and gave her a kiss. “It was Dave who encouraged me to travel before I started working. We sold my parents house, so Ava and I had a small inheritance. He told me to take a little of the money and see the world. So I flew to Aussie. I wanted to surf Bondi Beach. Little did I know I’d surf Vietnam too. That’s the beauty of open-ended traveling.

  "But now I’m back working, living above the garage and saving for the next chapter. I think when I leave for L.A. Dave has plans to turn my apartment into a man cave. He’s mentioned there’s plenty of room for a pool table and Ping-Pong. And of course there’s the horseshoe bar.”

  “Where’s your sister now?”

  “Ava graduated from UMASS, hmmm, five years ago, I think. Has it been five years? Wow. Sometimes it all just seems like yesterday. Don’t let anyone fool you with that closure shit. There’s no such thing. You think you’re okay and then some days it comes back and hits you like a ton of bricks. Grief comes and goes even seven years later.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Oh, right, Ava. Ava wanted to go to Denver. She had a job offer at a hospital out there. She’s a nurse, by the way. But she thought she should stay in Boston close to me. I told her no way, I was okay. She needed to go and live her own life, have some adventures. Besides, it's nice to have someone to visit in Colorado. I’ve visited a bunch of times. Love the back bowls of Vail, man. And I am okay, ninety percent of the time, but enough about me. Can a guy get some coffee around here?”

  * * *

  She usually mixed half Maxwell House coffee with Starbucks Sumatran. That was her idea when Nick suggested they come up with ways to save money for the all important condo account. A meager contribution for sure, considering all those nights out she had when he was away on business. Thank goodness he didn’t suggest a joint savings account. So that morning she just took out the Starbucks. She didn’t care about the condo. To be honest, she never cared.

  He joined her in the kitchen wearing a white T-shirt and blue plaid boxer shorts. She thought, God he’s hot. How could she be getting horny again? They’d made love three times in less than twelve hours. A hat trick. That was more sex than she’d had in a month, another problem she’d rather not think about right now. He was carrying a book she left beside the bed in the guest room. “Have you read this?”

  “Oh, I love that book.”

  “Me too. Do you remember in the beginning when he’s struggling with all that religion stuff? He wants to be a Christian, a Muslim and a Hindu?”

  “Yeah, that was great. I really liked that part.”

  “Well isn’t that kind of what we were talking about last night? That there are only so many stories in the world?”

  “Huh?”

  “The Bible, man. It’s the same story as the Koran and all the oth
er holy books. They’re all different versions of the same story. And if that’s true, you can certainly write your own version of a group of friends living together somewhere, trying to make their way in the world.”

  She slapped her hand on the countertop and shouted, “You are so right.”

  “I know. I am right.”

  “That’s it. I am going to set this story in Burlington, Vermont where I grew up. I mean there isn’t much happening there, but that could be the point. They all graduate from college and aren’t quite ready to leave, although opportunities are limited in Vermont. They are experiencing a kind of inertia, not ready to grow up yet, you know?”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, I’m personally familiar with that.”

  “Ooooh oooh. I know. I can have a character like my Dad too, a disheveled, nutty sort of cantankerous old professor. That can be a parallel story. This is great.”

  “There you go. You’re on your way.”

  She kissed him as she handed him a cup of really strong dark Sumatran. “Did you say you weren’t a good student? ‘Cus I don’t see that.” She leaned back against the counter, sipping her coffee, smiling at him.

  “The classroom wasn’t my thing.” He was checking out the boxes of cereal lined up on top of the fridge. The choices were all healthy with flax seeds and whole grains. “Do you have any Coco Puffs?”

  “Coco Puffs?” She started giggling.

  “Don’t laugh. I like the chocolate milk it leaves in the bottom of the bowl.”

  He ended up choosing one with pomegranate seeds. He didn’t really like it, but solved the problem by slicing two bananas into his bowl so he would have a banana with every bite.

  She’d just finished telling him about her junior year in Paris and how when it was over, her friend Katie met her and they spent the months of June and July backpacking through Switzerland, Italy, Turkey and Greece.

  “That’s awesome. There are so many places to go. Sleeping on those ferries in the Greek islands sounds great. I’ve got to add that to my bucket list.”

  As she loaded the bowls and coffee cups into the dishwasher, she thought to herself, "this guy is a dream come true."

  DO YOU GO TO THE MOVIES?

  Sophie and Ray were in the kitchen drinking coffee while Sophie made lunches and emptied the dishwasher. “So Ray, can we start planning for this weekend? You had your golf trip and I’m glad you had fun, so now let’s get something done in the addition. I’m serious about selling the house this spring. The yard looks its best when all the apple trees and lilacs are in bloom, before everything gets wildly overgrown. You’re with me, right?”

  “Yeah, believe me, I’m as sick of maintaining this place as you are. I’ll finish the closet and the floor in the bedroom. That’ll be ready when the boys come home for Thanksgiving. Then I’ll move on to the bathrooms. I can definitely get those done by spring.”

  Sophie smiled. Instead of rushing out the door as she usually did, she optimistically kissed Ray goodbye.

  Driving down the highway, she noticed a stand of birch trees just over the bridge she crossed every day. It was the first time in over three years of driving the same route that she actually saw them. It must have been because the leaves had fallen or maybe something else. She began to daydream.

  * * *

  In Sophie’s dream, she was living in a perfect little English cottage with a thatched roof in the Cotswold’s, on a country lane just outside of a small town with a bookstore, a pub and a bakery. A stone wall ran along the side of the road and the front yard was a wild perennial garden, flowers of all colors and heights planted close together. Wild roses climbed up the front of the stone cottage. Working at her computer, Sophie watched a steady rain pelt the leaded glass windows. Behind her a fire blazed in a stone fireplace. She heard a knock at the door and shouted, “Come on in.”

  Her neighbor opened the door and peeked in. “Hey Sophie, I brought you the weekly payroll from the pub.”

  “Thanks, Ewan. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “You know I don’t like coffee. You’re in England now dear, how 'bout a cup of tea?”

  Ewan was handsome, about forty years old, wearing a yellow slicker and tall black rubber rain boots. “The new bartender, Seamus, told me to tell you he thinks some of the waiters are giving you duff information. They might be padding their hours, so double check the time cards.”

  “Thanks again, Ewan.”

  Sophie snapped out of her daydream as she passed the farm on the way into town. Pumpkins grew where the sunflowers used to be. She laughed at the large sign on the hill. Visit Our Corn Maze and GET LOST.

  Shaking her head as if trying to wake up, she realized she needed to pay attention because she didn’t remember getting there, the drive along the highway a blur. She started to sing, thinking that might help her focus on the road but her mind drifted back to the cottage in England.

  “It’s a nasty day out there, isn’t it?”she asked Ewan.

  “Oh yeah. The weatherman had duff info too. Said it would only be overcast, but the rain’s really coming down. Cozy in here though.” He rubbed his hands by the fire while she put a kettle on the stove to make tea.

  “Yes it is. Not a bad place to work, with a warm fire, a view of an English garden, and the sound of rain on the window. Beats the cubicle I left behind back in the states. I used to work in a dreary windowless room thinking it was raining outside, even when it wasn’t. Now I can actually see, smell and hear the rain and it’s absolutely lovely.” She took a break from her work, sitting next to the fire to have coffee and tea with Ewan.

  Running into a new detour leading directly through the center of town with a long line of traffic, Sophie waited in front of a school where a crossing guard waved several young children across the street. This would normally annoy her, but instead she was singing and daydreaming.

  She pulled into the parking lot at 8:15. Listening to the end of another favorite song, she watched as a flock of Canadian geese flew over the house across the street. A dowdy, tired looking woman, about fifteen years older than Sophie, got out of her car and locked the door. Stopping to look in her car window, she fussed with her graying hair then pulling her laptop behind her on one of those rolling stewardess suitcase carriers, she shuffled off to the building they worked in. Sophie watched with a look of horror on her face. “Oh my God, it's Ida Blankenship.”

  * * *

  Ray was on the roof of a house covered with blue plastic tarp, leaves blowing across the front lawn. He was with three other guys, all laying down black roofing paper. It was cold out, thirty-two degrees. He was wearing a heavy flannel shirt with a fleece lining and black gloves with the fingertips cut off.

  Breaking for lunch, he joined his friend Brian in his truck, where he started the engine and turned the heat on. “Hey Ray, what do you have for lunch?” Ray was taking a sandwich, yogurt and a banana out of his cooler. “Not sure what kind of sandwich. Sophie makes my lunch.”

  “Your wife makes you lunch? Lucky guy. Look at that, she even gave you a chocolate chip cookie.”

  “Yeah, but lately she keeps forgetting to give me a drink. It’s so dry without a drink.”

  “Here, I brought two.” He handed Ray lemon seltzer water. “How was the golf weekend?”

  “Great, as usual. I’ve been going with my buddies for fifteen years now. I won the Hawaiian shirt contest this year.”

  “Say what?”

  “Friday night we get up to the hotel, have drinks at the clubhouse and everyone wears an Hawaiian shirt. There’s a prize for first place. This year it was a gift certificate for dinner at a restaurant. I figure Sophie and I can go some weekend. We hardly ever get out anymore, money’s tight.”

  “You two still planning to jump ship? Move to the islands, or something like that?”

  “We’re working on it. She’s constantly nagging me to finish the addition but she’s right, it’s been too long. And I’ll tell you, a day like this up on that roof. I don’
t know how much more I can do it.”

  “You and me both, my friend. Maybe I can be the handyman at your B&B.”

  “No, that would be my job, Brian. Learn to windsurf, why don’t ya? You can offer lessons to the guests. I can see you with a little surf shack down by the beach.”

  “Carol will never go for moving to the islands.” He laughed. “So maybe I’ll just come alone.”

  * * *

  Sophie stood at the printer, a stack of invoices on the table. She scanned them, one at a time, typing some info on the small keypad, hitting enter and waiting as the machine sent the scanned copy to her email. She did this thirty times. As she stared at the wall, waiting for each invoice to pass through the machine, Dan walked by. She rolled her eyes. He shook his head.

  Back at her desk, she opened each scanned invoice into an email. One at a time, she typed something into the subject line and sent the invoice to the corporate offices to be paid. After sending each one, she took a big date stamp, smacked it loudly on the paper copy of the invoice, dating it, and turned it over onto another pile. She also did this thirty times.

  Googling local movie theaters, she checked for films The Actor was in. She knew he was everywhere these days. Sure enough, she found one of his films at a theater close by, today was the last day it was playing. There was a show at four thirty.

  Sophie opened an excel spreadsheet, picked up a pile of checks and entered the check number and date on a spreadsheet, in a daze, working by rote memory. An email came in from her boss Tina. “I’m leaving at three to bring my daughter to the orthodontist.”

  “No problem, see you tomorrow.” Sophie replied, thinking, "How lucky is that?"

  At four o’clock, she shut down her computer and put her coat on. She poked her head in Dan’s cubicle. Slouched in his chair, he stared at his computer, smiling. He had his headphones on, so she leaned over, waving to get his attention.