“Of course. Remember when the boys were little and we’d get them to sleep in their cribs, then go downstairs and make love to this song on the living room floor?”
She took his beer, placed it on the desk and reaching out, took his arm. He grabbed her hand, twirled her around and swung her under his arm, pulled her close and put his other arm around her waist. They began to dance.
Ray laughed. “Remember the weekend we saw Dire Straits in Hartford, two back-to-back nights of shows? You came down with your friend Janie and met Miguel and me? The first night I forgot which parking garage I pulled into, and we walked around for so long looking for it, you walked the heel right off your shoe.”
“Yeah, we didn't found the car until the next day. We had to take a cab back to the hotel.” Laughing, she led him towards the door and down the hall to their bedroom. They tumbled onto the bed.
A little while later, lying under the covers, Ray asked, "Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. You looked so cute and sexy out at your wood pile.” Ray gave her a kiss.
* * *
Six a.m. Wednesday morning, the alarm went off in the bedroom. Ray rolled over, shut it off and turned the light on.
“Please turn the light off, Ray. I need a few more minutes.” He put on his bathrobe, shut the light off and left the room to make the morning coffee, his weekday routine.
Twenty minutes later Sophie showered, made the bed and joined him downstairs. Turning the corner into the living room, she noticed the open cellar door. In the kitchen, the cupboard doors beneath the sink were also open. The floor had been mopped, but was still wet. Ray was pouring a cup of coffee.
“What happened here?” Sophie sounded worried, knowing something had to be terribly wrong.
“I think the pipe to the leech field is clogged again. I ran the dishwasher before we went to bed last night and woke up to find the drain leaked all over the kitchen floor. I’ll have to rent that plumbing snake that unclogs it.”
“Shit. I knew something was wrong when I saw the cellar door open. Nothing good ever happens when the cellar door is open. What’s going on down there?”
“The same thing that happened two years ago. The brown water is backing up into the basement. I’ll take care of it.”
“Oh, Ray, this can’t keep happening. It seems like every morning there’s a catastrophe brewing and the bills keep piling up. You haven’t had work since the week before Christmas. Six months ago when the cellar door was open, the oil burner blew up. We’re still paying for the new one, five thousand bucks later, thank you very much.”
“I know, I know. But I can’t discuss it now. I’ve gotta concentrate. How much money is in the checkbook? I’ll have to rent that snake today. It’s forty five dollars.”
“I don’t get paid until Friday and I just bought groceries. There is money in the overdraft, but not much, a hundred bucks, I think. But go ahead. Use the debit card, no more than forty-five bucks, okay? Otherwise use the VISA. Oh God, that balance is so out of control. I just bought a few new clothes, guess that was a mistake.” She held back tears, running her hand through her hair.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. We have to fix this thing.” She walked over to Ray, kissing him on the cheek. “Well, I’ve gotta go, I’m going to be late. Thanks, honey. I know the brunt of these catastrophes fall on your shoulders. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Later that afternoon, an Excel spreadsheet open on one screen and email on the other, Sophie was staring at her computer when her cell phone started crawling across her desk. “Hey, Ray. How’s it going?” She listened, nodding her head with a concerned look on her face. “Oh my God, are you okay? Can you drive it?” She paused, longer this time. “Well, at least you’re not hurt. That’s what really matters. I’ll see you when I get home. Be careful driving.”
She went into Tina’s office. “Hey Tina, Ray just called and said he got in an accident. Some girl was coming out of the parking lot while he was driving into Lowes. She slammed right into the side of his truck. Apparently, she didn’t see him. She said the sun was in her eyes and she’d worked all night. Ray’s okay, but the truck is totaled. He was at Lowes because he needed some kind of pipe for the leech field, which he discovered is compromised, or something like that. That snake thing I told you about this morning didn’t work, the whole system is falling apart. He’s trying to repair it, and now this happens. It never ends.”
“Oh Sophie, that’s awful. But he’s okay, right?”
“So he said. He saw her coming at him and gunned it to try and get ahead of her, but she slammed into him just behind his door. He has the truck doors that open like this.” Leaning against the door jamb, she swung her arms open wide.
“Yeah, yeah. Right. I know what you mean.”
“Well, I guess he can’t open them. He had to get out the passenger side.”
“Thank God he’s okay. That’s all that really matters.”
“You’re right, I know. Anyway, I’ll have those checks ready by the end of the day.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Sophie.” Sophie returned to her desk, distracted and wishing she could go home.
Later that night, she pulled up beside Ray’s truck in front of the barn. It was dark and hard to see, but the light above the garage was on and she could tell the driver’s side door was smashed in. Standing in the driveway, she looked up at the night sky. Clouds rolled in. Focusing on Orion's brightest star, she made a wish.
“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. Please get me out of here, let me sell the house, let Ray and I start at the beginning and be happy again. And while we’re at it, please keep my boys safe and happy, too.” She turned one hundred eighty degrees to blow a kiss at the Big Dipper then turning to the sliver of a moon, she asked, “If you wish on an entire constellation, is it a more powerful wish?”
Walking slowly towards the house and the warm glow of light from the kitchen, she saw Ray making a vodka tonic with a splash of cranberry. Sophie walked over to him, wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. “How ya doin’?”
“I’m fine. The truck drives, but I think insurance will say it’s totaled. We have rental coverage, so I can get something else until I find another truck. The appraiser is going to call me back, and guess what? The other driver has no insurance.”
“Just our luck. Live free or die in New Hampshire. What happened with the leech field?”
“Well, I called around and it was gonna be at least five thousand dollars, but I stopped by Jack’s house and he offered to help. He drove his backhoe down the road and we dug a trench. Tomorrow we’ll put a new tank in, run the pipe, fill the hole with stone and it’ll be like brand new. And guess how much he wants for doing the work? Two cases of beer and that old wood stove in the barn.”
“You’re kidding? That’s awesome.”
“So see, everything is working out. I get a new truck and we fix the leech field, all for beer and a stove.”
“Well, that’s one way to look at it, another financial catastrophe averted.”
Ray pointed to the sink. “No more putting anything down that sink, the garbage disposal shouldn’t even be there.”
“I don’t put anything down there. Never have. Stuff gets by, but not that much.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. I’ll get a better drain trap. I’ve got to shower.” Ray gave her a kiss and went upstairs with his drink, while Sophie stayed behind in the kitchen. The cabinet doors still open, all sorts of cleaning supplies were scattered across the kitchen floor. She wet a sponge, sprayed some all-purpose cleaner in the cabinet and wiped it out. Tossing a few things in the trash, she arranged the rest of the cleaning supplies neatly in the cabinet.
She put on some Springsteen because she was in the mood for his middle class blues and sad workingman lyrics. While a bucket filled with soapy water, she poured herself a glass of wine. Singing
along to the music while washing the floor, she stopped by the window, staring out towards the river at the backhoe sitting in the yard. A steady rain began to fall.
An hour later, she brushed her teeth then walked into the addition, wandering into one of the unfinished bathrooms. It really was almost done, but also seemed miles from finished. The floor needed to be tiled and the plumbing wasn’t hooked up, but that meant calling the plumber back, and with Ray out of work they couldn’t afford it right now. The rain, turning to sleet, sounded loud in the unfinished room. She ran her hand along the claw foot tub, staring off into the dark night. Finally getting into bed, Ray snoring loudly, she tossed and turned, drifting off to sleep.
* * *
Sophie was in a house with large French doors that opened to a patio and a beautiful swimming pool with Mexican tiles. Various types of palm trees and tropical flowering shrubs landscaped the yard. Several recliners and chairs, covered with blue and white cushions, were scattered around the pool, matching umbrellas providing necessary shade. A stereo played reggae music. On one side of the patio was an outdoor kitchen with a large grill and a refrigerator. A center island with a light blue granite countertop, the color of the Caribbean Sea, had bar stool seating for six. In her dream, she understood this was her home.
TILTING AT WINDMILLS
The night she flew in from Dallas, they decided to stay at her apartment. It was a lot closer to the airport than his place and he was very eager to get her out of that raincoat. On the twenty minute drive to Cleveland Circle, she told him about Nick.
“Wait a minute. I thought I was your boyfriend.” He definitely seemed upset.
“You are. I think. Are we officially going out?”
“Yes. I mean, what do you think’s going on here? Like what’s official? Do we have to put it on Facebook, or something stupid like that?” There was an edge to his voice she'd never heard before. She began to get nervous.
“Well, like I said, my relationship with Nick was on its last days when I met you.”
“So why didn’t you just tell me then?”
“Well, that first night I didn’t want to complicate things. And then it got harder to tell you after I neglected to tell you in the first place.”
“Huh?” He looked annoyed and slightly confused.
“I told you. I’ve only seen him twice since we met. He came home that weekend before my birthday, just after I met you, and now in Dallas, where I broke up with him and slept on the couch. After all, you and I have only known each other for a month. I couldn’t break up with him over the phone. I owed him more than that, so I waited until I got to Dallas and could tell him in person.” She reached over, placed her hand on his cheek and speaking softly, said, “Nothing happened between us. I told you, I slept on the couch.”
He sighed. “But you’re still living in his apartment.”
“He’s in Dallas. He said he wouldn't be back until August to settle his affairs. It's rent-free and I can save money so I can quit my job. I’ll go to Vermont the weekend he's back.”
He reached over and put his hand on her thigh, rubbing it. “Or you can stay at my place.”
“You’re not mad at me? Because you seem mad.”
“No, I am not mad at you. It’s kind of stupid being jealous of what came before, don’t you think? I know you didn’t start dating when you met me, and you're right about breaking up over the phone. But, let’s say going forward, honesty is the best policy. It's all about what lies ahead of us, right? Just promise me one thing, no secrets.”
“I promise.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have just told you before I left."
They weren’t in the apartment for more than two minutes before he undid the belt on her raincoat and slipped her out of it. They made it as far as the sofa before they were all tangled up, madly groping and kissing each other. Afterwards, lying in his arms with her legs still wrapped around him, she ran her fingers through his hair.
“I love your haircut by the way.” She rubbed his beard. “And this is back. So do you change your look on a weekly basis?”
He laughed. “No. I rarely change my look. I told you, shaving the beard was an accident. It was Ava who insisted I let her cut my hair. I hadn’t cut it in six months. She said if I was dating you, I needed to up my game or you’d get sick of me and my slacker ways.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you, and you’re certainly not a slacker, but I do like this haircut.”
He leaned over and kissed her. She moaned softly and gave him a long, long kiss.
“How about you? Have you always had long hair?” he asked.
“Not always, since high school though, and I just trim it myself because I’m petrified of hairdressers. Just the smell of a hair salon gives me a panic attack. My knees get wobbly when I walk by one. My mother tortured me when I was younger, making me get awful haircuts. I don’t know what her thing was with short hair, but she was the hair Nazi. I cried more tears over hair on the salon floor, I can’t even tell you. It was in middle school that things got really bad. It ruined me.”
“Wow, sounds like you should talk to someone about this.”
“Haha! Maybe you’re right.”
“Okay, tell me your worst haircut story. And by the way, when are you giving me some of you’re writing?”
“I’m working on that. I’ll have something for you soon.” She paused, contemplating for a second. “Umm, haircuts. Let’s see, so many bad stories. I don’t really talk about this to many people. Well okay, there was the violin concert. I had to take violin lessons until eighth grade. It was so not cool, definite grounds for being labeled a geek.”
“What are you talking about? Women fiddle players are sexy.”
“Not when they’re in eighth grade. Anyway, it was a big concert for the whole school and my mother decided I needed a haircut for the event. I cried and fought with her for days. She finally won out, but told me I could tell the hairdresser what I wanted. My hair was just past my shoulders. It seemed like it took forever to get it to that length after the last bad haircut. I walked in the salon, got in the chair and told the hairdresser just one inch. As I looked in the mirror, I saw my mother signal with her hand right below her ear.”
“Oh, shit. I can see where this is going.”
“No kidding. Did my mother honestly think I didn’t see that? It was a floor to ceiling mirror and I was looking right at her. I shouted really loud, one inch. The hairdresser said, ‘It’s okay honey. Calm down.’ Then she took the scissors and cut right below my ear. I just sat in the chair quietly crying for the rest of the haircut. And to add insult to injury, she cut my bangs one inch long.” He hugged her, squeezing her tight.
“I cried all night, wracking sobs, and Jennie stayed with me, her little motor purring all night, right next to my fully exposed neck. This was two weeks before she disappeared.” She let out a little sob and hiccupped.
“Shh. Shh.” He was stroking her hair, still hugging her. “This really upsets you, huh? It’s okay. What happened with the violin concert?”
“I said I wasn’t going. We had a big fight, and of course I had to go. I was up on stage feeling like everyone was staring at me and my ugly haircut and those ridiculous bangs. I hated the way you had to hold the violin under your chin. I thought it made me look like my fat violin teacher with the double chin. So there I was, up on the stage for the entire world to see, with an ugly haircut and a fat chin. All the other girls had long hair in ponytails. Eighth grade, imagine. You’re so insecure and vulnerable at that age. So even though I eventually forgave my mother and that was the last bad haircut, I am scarred for life.”
“Wow. That’s rough. Although I’d love to see a picture, because I’m pretty sure you looked really cute.”
She shook her head no and started to tell him about the wedding diet and poor Nan having to lose twenty pounds. She also told him about the same updo they were all supposed to wear and the promise she made to Nan.
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“So, she better lose the weight because I have made a promise I can’t keep.”
“You know, they say you should do something that really scares you every once in awhile, like skydiving. Cut your hair if that’s what you’re scared of, it grows back”
“First of all, I don’t listen to them. And second, what is that going to do for you, scaring the shit out of your self? That’s just crazy horse shit.” She tried to smile while wiping her face with the back of her hand. He furrowed his brow, looking worried. Placing his hands on her cheeks, he wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Can I say something here?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t cut your hair if you don’t really want to. You shouldn’t do it because of some rash, lofty idea that you’re going to teach someone a lesson, that someone being this Olivia person. Because I doubt she’s going to get it, the lesson you think you’ll be teaching her, that is. She won’t understand. She’s too self-absorbed. She doesn’t sound like someone worth sticking your neck out for.” He laughed. “Would that be considered a double entendre? Stick your neck out. Get it? You cut your hair short, your neck, you know?” He laughed again, trying to get her to smile.
Instead she looked at him with a puzzled expression. “I’m just trying to prove a point, and it’s not fair to Nan. She told me she’s been making herself puke trying to lose weight. Don’t you think that’s awful? She’s going to end up bulimic, or something like that.”
“Well, honey, that’s her problem not yours. She could go to the gym or eat less. Why are you responsible for her? Hey, it’s up to you. If you want to cut your hair, I am absolutely certain you will look awesome. I’m just trying to say, do it because you want to do it, not because you think you’re going to change the mind of a self centered rich girl.”
“I don’t want her to have her way. For everyone to just do what she says. She’s a domineering control freak.” She paused for a minute, thinking of something. “Did you know Jim Morrison once said some of the worst mistakes of his life were haircuts?”
The Reverse Commute Page 18
