Car Pool

by Karin Kallmaker

  Anthea knew her self-esteem was in the basement. She’d let that technician shove her into a filthy truck, for God’s sake, and treat her like a piece of furniture. She hadn’t cared enough at the time to suggest using one of the cars and now, every time she spotted the grimy stain on the side of her skirt, it made her angry. She was tired of letting people walk all over her. Adrian didn’t believe she could take control of her life. Because it’s true, she thought.

  It didn’t help that it was Ruben’s last day. He said he understood the trap Anthea was in, but she could feel the hurt and sense of injustice from him. Especially when Reed had just refused to take over any of Ruben’s work, which was typical, but he had plenty of time to handle the United Way drive and organize the floor’s Christmas party. She had tried to work with Reed, but he just went to Martin and the two of them had a good ol’ chat and then Martin told her that Reed seemed to have plenty of work. It made Anthea want to scream.

  She did the only thing she could under her discretion — she gave Ruben the small performance bonus she could authorize on her own. She also had the Christmas bonus coupons ready to hand out to her staff. Since Ruben’s last day fell before the day she was supposed to hand them out, she hadn’t been given a set for him. Silently cursing NOC-U’s cheapness — lots of paper doll heads were rolling — she gave him the set she’d been given for herself. At least his kids would have a tree to decorate and

  they could get a ten-pound ham for free. She also pretended that the coupon book normally included a hundred-dollar gift certificate at the local grocery store. It wasn’t much in the way of blood money, but Ruben was proud and smart… he wouldn’t believe it was coming from the company if she tried to give him more.

  She felt as if she were standing at the bottom of the mountain watching an avalanche made up of all the failures of her life head straight for her. It got bigger when she said goodbye to Ruben. It gathered speed as she watched Lois and Celia interact during the ride home.

  Eight times Celia managed to find excuses to touch Lois … there, that was nine. Can’t she think of something more subtle than “there’s a piece of lint on your shoulder”? Who did they think they are fooling, she stormed to herself. Me, obviously. Anthea tried to impel herself to act. To do something. She’d tried to connect with Lois in subtle ways, and they weren’t working.

  She closed her eyes against her anger and abruptly fell asleep, another restless night of cigarettes catching up all at once. Anthea was disoriented when she got out of Celia’s car, and didn’t join Lois’s wave as Celia drove away. She had crossed the kitchen by the time Lois was closing the front door. The futility of pretending nothing was wrong washed over her. She didn’t turn to face Lois as she said, “Why are you sleeping with Celia?”

  Lois didn’t say anything and Anthea slowly turned to face her. Irrelevant thoughts occurred to her… the kitchen floor needed washing. She looked at Lois and met an expression of defiance.

  “It was better than nothing,” Lois finally said, all in a rush, from across the kitchen. “When you finally do want to have sex… it’s like having sex with a computer. Boring.”

  She didn’t even bother to deny it, not like last time. Anthea widened her eyes to hide a shimmer of tears. She wasn’t going to let Lois hurt her. She wasn’t going to wimp out this time and forgive her. “You don’t think she’s going to leave her husband and child for you, do you? You can’t be that stupid.”

  Lois’s fingers clenched around the keys she still held. “You might be surprised. Celia is in love with me.”

  Anthea allowed herself an unbelieving laugh. “I suppose she told you this during that class you both have been taking for the last three months.”

  Lois’s lips curved in a vicious smile as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What class?”

  Anthea thought, I’m not hurt yet, I can head it off. “Why couldn’t you just tell me you didn’t love me anymore? Why let me find out like this?”

  “Who said I didn’t love you anymore?”

  I haven’t heard you say you do! “You have a funny way of showing it. A very painful way of showing it.”

  “I still have feelings for you — “

  “So it seems,” Anthea said. “Like boredom. I don’t think that’s the kind of feeling that makes for a good relationship. And lying to me about a class so you can have an affair, that doesn’t help things either.”

  “What do you expect from me? We’re suffering from lesbian bed death.”

  Anthea steadied herself with a deep breath. “You

  don’t seem to have any problems being sexual. You just don’t want to be sexual with me. So call it what you like. Give it a clinical name. I’m sure somewhere you’ve found some self-help book that says having an affair is the best way to cure it.”

  “I’m supposed to go without sex?”

  “You promised you’d talk to me if you felt this way.”

  “If I told you I was having an affair, you’d go off the deep end like last time.”

  The deep end? In Anthea’s opinion, she’d behaved in a very civilized manner last time. Couples counseling, long talks, a romantic vacation. “You promised,” she said again, her voice failing her. She was going to cry. Her throat seized up and it hurt to breathe. I won’t let her make me cry.

  Lois stared sullenly across the kitchen at her. Anthea met her gaze as steadily as she could manage. She fought down the tears and found some inner core of strength. “Well, that’s that. Since you were so sure I’d go off the deep end, I guess I will. This is my house, so I think you’d better start packing.”

  Lois dropped her jaw. “You don’t think I’m going to move out at a moment’s notice, do you? It will be impossible to find an apartment in Berkeley.”

  Anthea straightened her shoulders. “You should have thought of that before you started screwing around with Celia. What did you think I’d do, invite you two to use the guest room? I’d like you out of here now, if not sooner.”

  Lois made a sound of disbelief. “I think you have a lot of possessiveness issues. You’re just trying to hurt me by throwing me out.”

  Damn right, Anthea thought. Of course I’m trying to hurt you! I can’t believe you did what you did — you promised it wouldn’t happen again. Anthea clamped down on her anger. “Are you implying it would be good for my psyche not to end our relationship? I should let you go on sleeping around?”

  “I think you’re just acting out some old issues with your parents —”

  “Don’t you dare,” Anthea said in a voice that came painfully out of her chest. “Don’t you dare imply that if I had worked out my feelings about my parents I wouldn’t care about you cheating on me. Sure I have possessiveness issues, I happen to feel possessiveness is just fine in moderation. I think it’s pretty moderate to want honesty and fidelity from someone I love.”

  Lois drew herself up with a grimace of distaste. “The least you can do —”

  “Is not let you walk all over me again. You break our agreement and expect me to show you consideration? To be kind and forgiving? Once was enough for me.”

  Lois shook her head slowly. “Is that all it was, an agreement?” Her voice rose. “A relationship isn’t something you can notarize. Don’t you want to talk about it? That’s all you ever want to do.”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to you for two weeks, but you’re just not there. So I have nothing to say,” Anthea said, forcing her voice to steely calm. “You, on the other hand, had plenty to tell me. But you didn’t say a word. You’ve forgone your right to ask for my consideration.”

  “You have got to be the most wooden person I

  have ever met!” Lois’s voice peaked at a shrill. “Can’t you show some emotion for once?”

  “Is that why you did it? To make me feel something? That’s … sick.”

  “You said you forgave me that nothing little fling, but you’ve been about as warm as a glacier ever since. You don’t have a spontaneous bone left in your body. Not t
hat you were ever open to being spontaneous.”

  “Is ‘spontaneous’ a new euphemism for thinking with your crotch? I’m not spontaneous because I’m not sleeping around?” Anthea bit her lower lip to steady her voice. “Is spontaneous what you are? Do I call you that instead of deceitful?”

  “Even when you’re pissed off, you’re anal retentive. You don’t even care enough about me to get mad,” Lois said. “You don’t have a real emotion in your entire body.”

  Anal retentive — well, she’d let that go by. Her voice was even and low as she said, “Would you feel better if I yelled and threw things? You used to think my… even temper was a good point.”

  “It doesn’t outweigh your negatives. So you have a nice house but the silence in here is deafening.”

  “And you liked the vacations, didn’t you? And the season tickets to Berkeley Rep and the Women’s Philharmonic and the San Francisco Ballet and—”

  “And that’s another thing. I’m tired of the crushing obligation I feel just because you pay for all the luxuries. I never forget it.” Lois exhaled loudly. “I’m still in the doghouse about that lousy vase.”

  “I never said anything —”

  “I know, but the place where it was is still

  empty. It’s like you’re reproaching me every second of every day.”

  “It wasn’t special—”

  “But it was yours. Everything in here is yours.”

  “When did you start hating that that’s the way it was?” Anthea was truly bewildered now. What had Lois expected from her — community property without any commitment? Anthea had hinted that she would like to register as domestic partners, but Lois had shrugged it off.

  Lois was shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re stifling me. You can’t blame me for looking for fun somewhere else.”

  “Oh, I see. This is my fault,” Anthea said with a mocking smile. “I’m not the one having an affair with the other woman in our car pool. So okay, don’t call me adventurous.”

  “I won’t call you a lesbian either. The closet you live in is so tight I can’t breathe. I’ve had enough of it.” Lois stalked out of the kitchen, the crack of her heels echoing irately over the tile.

  It’s not fair, Anthea thought. She acts like I forced her to sleep with Celia. She realized she was still holding her briefcase. She set it down in its accustomed place next to the living room door. She wasn’t going to follow Lois to fight. It wasn’t worth it. She needed to think.

  She stepped out onto the deck. Following the redwood railing, she walked to the end farthest from the house where the wind was the strongest. Loose tendrils of hair at her temples whipped back from her eyes. From here she could see the flickering lights of Marin, fifteen miles or more — two bridges

  and a big bay away. Yesterday’s rain had left the air clear and sharp, and it had brought the temperature up to a mellow mid-sixty range. At her feet, seemingly close enough to touch, she watched someone’s headlights illuminating the incline behind the Claremont Hotel on their way up to this neighborhood. She wished she had brought a cigarette outside with her, but right now she wouldn’t go back inside to get one.

  She watched the Oakland Tribune building’s red neon lights flicker on and off until she was shivering. She thought she was cold, but when she went inside the shivering didn’t stop. She was shivering with anger. Control, she told herself. If you lose control there’s no telling what you might do. Don’t risk it.

  Lois was in jeans and a T-shirt… the black T-shirt that made Anthea want to slide her hands under it, up, unhook Lois’s bra… . Anthea shook the image out of her mind. Lois didn’t want her anymore. She stomped from the garage to the bedroom again, and Anthea kept out of her way. Her hands itched for something to do, but she wasn’t going to offer to help, so she made a salad and forced herself to eat it. She forced herself to do the dishes. She forced herself not to watch as Lois carried yet another box out to her car.

  Well, this departure would be quick. Having lost everything in the fire that had swept across the East Bay hills, Lois had been renting all her furniture when Anthea met her. Since they had moved in together a few months later, Lois had

  never replaced what she lost. She had preferred spending her money on clothes and her annual solo vacation… and tae kwon do classes.

  Why had she forgiven Lois that first affair? Was forgiving it permission to do it again?

  Lois appeared with a paper bag from the top of which peeked the hair dryer and a bra. I guess I’ll be using the travel dryer, Anthea thought. Lois paused for a moment, the door to the garage open, and Anthea looked up from the sink.

  “Monica is putting me up until I find a place.”

  That figures, Anthea thought. Monica had been the first affair.

  “Well,” Lois said, “I wish you the best of commuting by yourself. I’m guessing you won’t want to ride with us. I’m sure you’ll find some new people for a pool.”

  “The car pool pass is in my name. It’s been in my name for six years.”

  “Don’t be childish. It’s two against one. It should be ours.”

  “Possession is nine-tenths.” The car outside was locked and the alarm system was on. Anthea swept a crumb from the counter into the sink. She dusted her hands. I’ll be damned if I’ll give it to them. All she needed was to find one more person and she’d be back in car pool business again… it only took two to use car pool lanes on this side of the bay and to get a parking pass at the refinery.

  Lois swept out of the kitchen, yanking the door closed after her.

  The vibration from the slamming door knocked a

  porcelain sconce off its hook. Anthea jabbed her thumb on a sharp edge as she cleaned up the shattered pieces.

  She wished she had said, just for the record, that Lois wasn’t leaving her, she was throwing Lois out. It seemed an important distinction. She dabbed a little peroxide on the cut, then carefully wound a Band-Aid over it.

  There. Now everything would be okay. Her thumb throbbed for a while, then it went numb. She wondered when she would start missing Lois. She smoked one cigarette after another in between spoonfuls of a pint of Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk, telling herself all the while what she was really upset about was having to commute alone.

  She would not cry. She hadn’t cried since she was seven and she wouldn’t start now.

  2

  Compression Check

  Anthea stomped on the gas pedal. The Legend surged forward, covering the unexpected two-car length gap ahead of her in moments. She slammed on the brakes and stopped a few inches short of tapping bumpers. “Only another fifteen minutes to the bridge at this rate,” she said aloud, glaring in the rear view mirror. Behind her — and ahead as well — was the usual massive line-up to get on the frontage that bypassed some of the freeway leading

  to the Dumbarton Bridge. It was slightly faster than taking the freeway all the way. Even though there was no toll this direction, it still took longer to get on the bridge going home than on the way to work.

  She fumbled in her purse on the passenger seat for a cigarette, then remembered her New Year’s resolution. No smoking in the car. One after breakfast. One from car to the office. One at each of her two self-allotted breaks, maybe one at lunch. One when she got home and then after dinner whatever was left of her half-pack allocation. She could hear Lois telling her she was being anal retentive about quitting.

  “Shut the fuck up, Lois,” Anthea said to her reflection in the mirror. One of the many consequences of commuting alone was the habit she was developing of talking to herself and the dreadful language she was getting too accustomed to using. She reached the turn to the frontage road and quickly pulled out. The Legend settled down to a steady pace of twenty miles per hour.

  She’d spent her afternoon going over the time survey data from the Groundwater Protection unit — something Ruben would have done if he’d still been there. The task had recalled the way she’d let that… that… technician t
reat her. She had only been doing her job — there was no reason to be treated like a leper. It was bad enough her unit didn’t get any respect from upper management. It was bad enough that Lois had treated her like a doormat. But to let some complete stranger step all over her self-esteem like that… what had she been trying to prove, that Anthea wasn’t up to the rigors of field work?

  She’d been through every inch of that refinery at one time or another, back in her product accounting days, explaining time surveys, or learning the manufacturing stages, and she’d done it in heels and a suit when her tour guides and hosts had worn boots and jeans. She probably knew more about production than everyone in Groundwater combined. Accountants had to know everything about everything or they couldn’t do their job. Something Ms. Superior Field Geologist obviously didn’t think about. Something Lois had never believed. Accounting, she had said, was an exact and limited science. No creativity. Not like marketing, where it was tense, tense, tense every minute keeping up with competition. Marketing was an art form.

  Hah.

  Anthea turned the cassette player volume up, but it was already too late. She was thinking about Lois again. The BMW in the next lane began to merge over into Anthea’s door. She honked, swore, yelled, honked again, and when the car veered off, she gave the driver the finger. She saw the older man’s eyes widen in panic, as if he thought Anthea was going to pull a shotgun out and squeeze off a couple of rounds in retribution. I’m turning into the kind of driver I hate.

  Traffic came to a complete halt, then sluggishly moved forward again. Anthea leaned on her horn when the driver ahead didn’t fill up the gap in front of him, allowing three cars from the adjacent lane to merge ahead. Her car inched forward. Her pressure must be off the scale, she thought — partly the traffic, and partly because she was thinking about what Lois had said about her being a computer.

  When Anthea had met her briefly to hand over some more clothing she’d come across, Lois had reiterated that fact, and added a few more along the same lines, accusing Anthea of being unsupportive during Lois’s transition and summing her up as heartless and selfish. How was I supposed to be supportive… help her move? Pay the deposit on her apartment? And heartless is calling up CPS and saying the car pool was dissolved so I had to turn in the pass and park in the hinterlands again.