The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  “Fascinating? Depressing is more like it. How’s that for irony?”

  “That’s funny, that’s what your sister said about visiting the Ninth Ward. And nothing you just said was ironic, except for the fact that you thought it was.”

  “I don’t understand a word you just said. What’s the Ninth Ward?”

  “Where Hurricane Katrina hit the hardest. Remember? It’s still a mess.”

  “Now who in their right mind would want to visit that?”

  “It’s a part of our history. It’s important to know this stuff, so history doesn’t repeat itself. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, seeing as I was in Oregon at the time, who did you vote for in 2008?”

  “McCain.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. "You realize that means you also voted for Sarah Palin."

  “Look, I don’t want to get into this with you. I have a seven thirty meeting. You’ll meet me at my office at five, right? And please wear something nice. We’re going to dinner with my boss. Do you need some money to buy something?”

  “No. I used some of your gift certificate at Lord & Taylor. I brought something with me.”

  “Good.” He kissed her cheek. She felt like the wife in a 1950’s sitcom she’d seen on Nick at Night. While making the bed before she left to go sightseeing for the day, she imagined herself in a dress, high heels and pearls doing housework with a feather duster, whistling while she worked. She laughed out loud.

  Later that evening, getting ready for her dinner date with the boss, she assessed herself in the mirror, deciding her new dress was perfect for her temporary role as the great woman behind her successful man. A light, blue sleeveless cotton, with turquoise and rose flowers, the waistline was cinched above a short, pleated A-line skirt with a scoop neckline. Adding rose-colored peep toe heels to match the flowers, and wearing a fake pearl necklace and earrings, she fixed her hair in a high ponytail and put on rose lipstick.

  She thought if she were to marry Nick, he would probably give her real pearls for her anniversary one year. It would go with the look he wanted her to cultivate. But tonight, after dinner with the boss, she was planning to tell him she was not moving to Dallas. She wasn't sure if she would tell him she was falling in love with someone else. He didn’t really need to know that. The relationship was falling apart before that night on the train.

  Shortly before four thirty, he called and told her to go straight to the restaurant. His afternoon conference was running late. She called a cab. At the trendy restaurant, she grabbed the last bar stool and ordered a Lemon Drop Martini, which sounded good on the drink menu, and very much in step with the retro theme she was play-acting. The bartender told her about the live music scene in Dallas, suggesting she get down to Austin where the music was better. It sounded more like her kind of city. Nick came up behind her and kissed her cheek. “Sorry I’m late.” He looked her over. “Interesting choice of dress.” She thought, "Is there any pleasing this guy?"

  Nick’s boss, Ted, was in his mid-thirties and very friendly, with short brown hair slicked back off his forehead and green eyes. His wife joined them a short while later. She looked like a Swedish fashion model, wearing a tight fitting blue dress to match her eyes. She had very short, asymmetrically cut pale blond hair and her name was Ana.

  Ana was very cool and detached, but Ted was funny and seemed to think she was very funny too, probably because Ana said so little. The evening went as okay as an evening with the boss could go. She managed to get through it without embarrassing Nick, until the very end. Nick seemed relaxed most of the evening, as relaxed as Nick could get, especially in work situations. When she brought up her work for the Obama campaign while living in Oregon, he gave her a slight nudge under the table and changed the subject.

  But Ted picked right up on her comment. “So don’t you think Obama is not very friendly to the business community?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well this whole Obamacare, what a mess.”

  “You do realize we are the only wealthy nation that doesn’t insure our people, don’t you?”

  “Healthcare is not a right.”

  “Correct, it isn’t a right. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s all a matter of what kind of country you want to live in, who are we as a nation and what are our values.”

  Smiling at her, Ana said, “You should move to Sweden, darling.”

  “Trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

  Ana laughed a slow, brittle kind of laugh. “You’re very feisty. I admire your passion. Most of us don’t really pay attention to these things.”

  “Well, that’s what’s wrong with this country. We stopped caring.”

  Nick sat up very straight. “Hey, enough politics. How about those Mavericks?”

  * * *

  Nick was silent on the drive back to his apartment. She followed his lead. A song came on the radio that she really liked, so she turned up the volume, singing along quietly. He reached over and turned it down, keeping his eyes on the road, never looking over at her. Normally, her first instinct would be to carry on with the song, singing louder. Instead she continued to sing softly, looking out the window at the Dallas skyline.

  He pulled into the parking garage of his large, high-rise apartment building. They got out of the car in unison, closing their doors seconds apart, making a loud echoing sound in the cavernous, subterranean parking lot. Slam Bang, Slam Bang. They walked to the elevator, Nick a few steps ahead of her. Looking up as the numbers slowly descended, counting their way down to G3, the garage three levels below ground, she asked, “Why are you so mad at me?”

  “Can we wait until we’re upstairs to talk about this?”

  Kicking off her heels, she headed straight to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, washed off her makeup and shook out her hair. Returning to the living room, she noticed he was still in his suit, his tie slightly loosened, his laptop open next to him on the couch. He motioned to the space beside him and said, “Come over here, I need to talk to you.”

  “Good, because I need to talk to you too.” She sat next to him without getting close, her hands folded in her lap.

  He cleared his throat, ran his hand across his cropped hair and looking directly at her, he said, “I don’t know if you realize what is going on here, but I am in line for some very big things with this company. I need you to be on board.”

  “What does that mean? Why are you accusing me of not being on board? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t discuss your radical politics at a business dinner.”

  “Radical politics? Excuse me, but Ted asked me what I was doing in Oregon when I lived there. I simply told him I was waitressing, writing and volunteering for Obama.” She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders.

  “Yes, and that led to a dissertation on Obamacare and your radical ideas on health care in America.”

  “Ted brought up health care and that was not a dissertation. Believe me, I know what a dissertation is. I read them all day at work. Obamacare is not radical. I was talking about volunteering for the man who is now president of the United States of America. What the hell is so radical about that? Please don’t tell me you think he’s a socialist Muslim, or some nonsense like that.””

  “Listen, that’s besides the point. It’s just that you act like you’re still in college. This is the real world now. You can’t sit around and argue existential bullshit. You can’t write screenplays or novels that will never sell. You have to make a living and pay the bills. I am trying to make a go of it here, make some money and be a success. Stop living in a fantasy world.”

  She looked hurt, but he didn’t notice. Write novels that will never sell? Did he just say that? “Can I speak now without being shouted at?”

  “I want to show you something first.”

  He turned the laptop towards her and showed her Nan’s Facebook page. Nan posted pictures of her with the funny glasses, nose and mustache, smokin
g a joint in the Minnesotan’s hotel room. There was also a picture of the shrine they made and another one of her with the guy in the assless chaps.

  “That’s not my Facebook page. I closed my account. I told you that.”

  “This is something that could ruin a career.”

  “They’re not pictures of you, and they’re not on my page.”

  “I’m just pointing this out to you.”

  “I was at your sister’s bachelorette party, remember? Listen, I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.” He rubbed his scalp again.

  “I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but I’ve been very unhappy for quite some time now. I hate my job. Unlike yours, it is not a career, not any kind of career I want anyway. You and I just don’t seem to have that much in common anymore.”

  “Your job has a future and it’s a good resumé builder. It’s time to grow up. I didn’t realize you still smoked weed. How long has that been going on?”

  She chose to ignore that. “Like I was trying to say, you and I don’t see things quite the same way. Your idea of the future isn’t the same as mine. I think this relationship has run its course.”

  He pulled his tie off and slumped back on the couch. “I agree.”

  She couldn’t believe it was going to be so easy. How was her life suddenly turning into a fairy tale, or some crazy rom-com movie where everything goes right for the heroine? The domineering boyfriend conveniently gets relocated to Texas just when Prince Charming arrives on the scene. Completely out of character, the boyfriend agrees to an amicable breakup. Things like that never happened to her.

  “We had a nice time, Nick. We had a lot of fun. I guess it's time to move on and chase our own dreams, right?”

  “Agreed.”

  * * *

  Once they’d agreed to break up, they started getting along. She remembered why she liked him in the first place, but also realized that was exactly what it was. She liked him. She didn’t love him.

  They decided it wasn’t practical for her to fly home early. It would cost too much to change her flight. He was working on Friday and had to go into the office for a while on Saturday morning. She would continue to sightsee on her own and they would have dinner together Saturday night. Once the pressure and expectations were removed, the tensions between the two of them eased up. She insisted she be the one to sleep on the couch and continued texting her two a.m. boyfriend after Nick retired for the night.

  What is Dallas like?

  Very big. Lots of skyscrapers and cowboy boots. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you last night.

  It’s ok.

  My flight was late and we went out to dinner. I forgot to charge my phone and yes it's a shitty excuse and I too hate when people do that.

  But it happens.

  How’s Aspen?

  Great. Huge snow. Great bars.

  Cute snow bunnies?

  Huh?

  Girls?

  I’ve only got one girl on my mind. What about you? Find a cowboy yet?

  Not my type.

  Can I call you?

  Sure. My friend is in the other room. I’m on the couch.

  She filled him in on her days, the cell phone walking tour of Dealey Square, her visit to the zoo. He told her more tales of his adventures on the moguls and back bowls of the Rocky Mountains. Friday was the last night she took the two a.m. phone call.

  “Hey, tomorrow Mark and I are driving back to Denver and taking Ava to dinner. I probably won’t call you. I'll see you at Logan, right?”

  “Right. I am arriving at Terminal C, American Flight 237, nine p.m.”

  “Okay, I will see you at baggage claim.”

  “See you Sunday night.”

  * * *

  Nick showed her around the modern, sleek office he worked in, with lots a chrome, steel and glass. For all its sophistication, there were still rows and rows of cubicles. However, Nick had a coveted window office, small but with a nice view of the city. They spent the afternoon walking around the West End Historic district, a neighborhood full of shops, art galleries and restaurants. She convinced him to have a late afternoon drink.

  “Sure, why not?” He shrugged.

  The cafe they chose wasn't crowded at four thirty and there were plenty of seats at the bar. She pointed to two empty stools. “Can we sit here?”

  “If you want to,” he shrugged again.

  “So, about Olivia’s wedding.”

  “Yes, my sister’s gala wedding, you’re a bridesmaid.”

  “Yes indeed, I am.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Well, you know she’s rented a house for the bridesmaids in East Hampton, so I assume you will be staying there. I’ll be at my parents.”

  “Okay, that works. Are you going to tell them we’re no longer dating?”

  “Probably not until that weekend. This is the kind of the thing that could put Olivia over the edge, although it has nothing to do with her.”

  “You’re right, probably best not to say anything. Did you hear she has some girls on a diet and we all have to wear our hair the same way?”

  “Wow, sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll live through it.”

  “About the apartment.”

  “Oh right, I’m going to need a place to live.”

  “Well, here’s the thing. Because this move was so sudden and I have a lease through August, the company agreed to pay the rent through the summer. So, I won't lose my deposit and I can keep my stuff there until I find a place in Dallas. I won't have to move things into storage in the interim. I’m thinking you could stay until you find something, through the summer if you need to. Rent free, it’s on the bank, relocation expenses. I will need to come back in August sometime to pack up and settle things.”

  “Seriously? Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.” She looked at him as if meeting him for the very first time. “It’s funny how much easier this is when we’re not a couple, isn’t it?”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “I hope you have a happy life Nick, and all your dreams come true.”

  “I hope you stop dreaming so much and start to find yourself. By the way, this is official, right? We’re no longer going out.”

  “I will never stop dreaming. And yes, I would say it’s definitely official.” She looked puzzled.

  “So we can date other people, right?”

  Did he know? “Yes, of course.”

  “Because Ashley, the girl who gave you the key the first night you got here? I’ve been talking to her a lot lately. It seems like we’re always on the elevator at the same time. I’m thinking I might ask her out.”

  Ah, of course. She remembered thinking when she got the key from Ashley, that she looked very much his type. Tall and blonde, very put together. When she answered the door, she was wearing a crisp white cotton blouse, perfectly ironed, along with a thin, navy blue pencil skirt and matching blue heels.

  “Sure, go for it. She seems like your type.” She shook her head, thinking, "Am I dreaming?" She playfully punched him on the jaw.

  * * *

  Her flight arrived on time. She couldn’t wear the raincoat onto the plane. All the heightened airport security required people to take their coats off, and if that were all she was wearing, it would be hard to explain.

  Still in the terminal, she ducked into the ladies' room and in one of the stalls, completely undressed, put the raincoat on and stuffed her clothes and undies in her carryon bag. Riding the escalator down to baggage claim, she noticed him leaning against a pole, his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket. Tan, sporting the scruffy beard again, his hair was still long but shorter and styled. Much wavier at this length, some of his locks even curled, especially on the top where it was layered. He spotted her on the escalator and with a huge smile, quickly walked towards her. As she hopped off, he lifted her up and gave her a big bear hug, twirling her around, laughing. “You wore a raincoat.
”

  “I told you I would be in a raincoat.”

  “I thought you were joking.” He slipped his hand underneath her coat, his eyes widened. “How did you get on the plane like this?”

  “I changed upstairs after we landed.”

  “Let’s get your bag and get out of here.”

  WHAT ELSE CAN

  POSSIBLY GO WRONG?

  Gazing out the kitchen window towards the back yard, Sophie watched as Ray chopped wood on a frigid night in January. The holidays came and went uneventfully. The boys drove up to New Hampshire for Christmas Eve and stayed for dinner the next day. Miranda was at home in Philadelphia, visiting her family. Jesse mentioned her quite a bit over the holiday. He told them she was growing out her spiky, shaved haircut because he asked her to. He liked long hair and was pleasantly surprised with her efforts to please him. “I think it must be love,” he mused.

  Ray was about to say something. Certain he would ask if Jesse liked tattoos, Sophie kicked him under the table and he looked at her, shrugging his shoulders with a "What did I do?" look on his face.

  The bedroom was ready. Well almost ready, the closet was done. Sheet rocked with a pole for hanging clothes, it still had no shelves. The floor wasn't finished, the IKEA rug still covered the subfloor, so really it hadn’t changed that much.

  She watched as Ray tossed split logs on to a growing pile of firewood in a wheelbarrow. When it was full, he pushed it up a slight hill to the back door, came inside with a pile of wood in the crook of his arm and dropped it by the stove in the sitting room.

  He opened the fridge to get a beer. Sophie was already having a glass of red wine. As Ray leaned into the fridge, she came up behind him, put her arms around him and kissed his neck. He turned around with the beer in his hand. “What’s up?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “I was just watching you chopping wood, looking so happy doing one of your favorite things. You looked so sexy. You can forget everything when you’re out there, can’t you? Hey, come upstairs with me, I want to play a song for you.” Sophie took his hand and led him to the office at the top of the stairs, laughing and flirting. Ray seemed bemused, not quite sure what to make of this. When they got to the tiny office, Sophie pulled up YouTube on her computer. “Remember this?” she asked, playing a Dave Matthews tune.