The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  She helped herself to the bottle of wine on the counter. “Work is so boring. I was in desperate need of a glass of wine.”

  Turning around from the stove where she was stirring spaghetti sauce, Lynn picked up her glass and raised it towards the group. “Aren’t we all? There is not enough wine in the world.”

  “Oh, and listen to this. Did I tell you there were three squirrels in my house? Running around the addition?”

  Kelly stopped texting and shouted, ”Oh. My. God. Well, that’s all Ray’s fault. When is he ever going to finish that addition? When was the last time he worked on it? I don’t know how you put up with this, Sophie. He started it ten years ago, right?”

  Kelly’s ring tone went off. She answered a text message, half listening to Sophie’s reply.

  “Well, in his defense, it was a really busy summer. Thank God he had a lot of work, because the winter was slow and we needed the money. I can’t support us on my salary alone, and you know the summer, it rains half the time around here and the lawn keeps growing and growing. He works all week, plans to get into the addition on the weekend and then has to mow the two acres, because the grass is up to our ankles. That takes up a lot of the day. Before you know it, the weekend’s over and nothing gets finished.”

  Linda chimed in. “But it’s been ten years.”

  “Eleven, but who’s counting. As you know, we started the addition when he had steady work with that builder. Then the guy overextended himself, the housing market crashed and the builder went bankrupt. We ran out of money to buy materials for the addition. I mean I’m not making excuses for Ray, but there have been circumstances beyond his control.”

  Lynn stopped cooking for a while, sitting down next to Sophie. “Is he working on it now?”

  “Yeah. He’s golfing this weekend, but he’s promised when he gets back he will finish the bedroom, then move on to the bathrooms.”

  Kelly looked up from her phone and shouted, “He’s golfing this weekend?”

  Lynn looked really concerned. “The bedroom isn’t done? Wasn’t Jesse sleeping in there this year?”

  "It’s mostly done, just the floor and closet need to be finished. Ray painted the floor and we put a rug down.” She decided to change the subject. “I got the rug at IKEA. Have you guys ever been to an IKEA? It’s awesome, there’s one on the way to the Cape.”

  Lynn hopped up to drain the pasta. “Okay everyone, the spaghetti and meatballs are ready. Can someone grab the garlic bread from the oven and there’s salad in the fridge.”

  Everyone got up to help relocate to the kitchen table, carrying food and bottles of wine. The conversation continued, everyone speaking at once about kids, work and the IKEA store. Linda told a story about an irate parent who came into the school she worked at as a receptionist and insisted she hand deliver a sandwich to her son in his history class.

  “I told her it’s against the rules. We cannot interrupt a class of thirty kids for one student who forgot his lunch.”

  The wine flowed. Three empty bottles stood on the island counter. They carried two more to the table, one white and one red. Sophie poured another glass of red. “So Linda, how is John’s business doing?”

  “Slow. If the economy were better he’d be doing great, but everyone is hesitant to sign on. They don’t want to make the financial commitment. He’s working really hard, doing all the right things, but they just can’t get the big contract they need to jump start things. It’s not the best time to get involved in a startup. Meanwhile, we have no health insurance.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Health insurance, don’t get me started.”

  Lynn laughed. “Yes, please don’t get her started.”

  “Well, Linda brought it up. To think I used to run my own bookkeeping business when the boys were little. I worked from home in the nineties. I was an entrepreneur, someone politicians on both sides of the aisle are supposedly fighting for, but they never do anything for us to actually improve our lives, like getting us affordable health insurance. Someone had to get the job with the benefits. Guess who that was? The guy who paints houses for a living or his wife with the accounting degree? So much for her small bookkeeping business, I am no longer an entrepreneur.”

  Kelly looked up from her Blackberry. “But didn’t Hillary set this whole health care crisis in motion when Bill was president?”

  “Only because she was sabotaged by the insurance companies and they ended up writing the bill. Don’t you remember those Harry and Louise commercials? Anyway, I’m not talking about politics here. I’m talking about health insurance.”

  Lynn raised her hand. “I just have to point out, health insurance is about politics.”

  “Yes, you’re right. But anyway, I got the job with insurance, then I lost that job due to layoffs and cutbacks, got another job, got laid off again due to a corporate buyout. I was unemployed for fourteen months, finally getting my current job in a cubicle forty-five minutes from home. I went from being my own boss to working in a cubicle, so much for climbing the corporate ladder. And that’s my story. The working title is Life in the First Decade of the New Century. Did I tell you guys I am thinking of writing a screenplay?”

  Lynn passed the salad bowl to her left and the garlic bread to her right. “Doug won’t stop nagging me about getting a job. Every day he’s on me about it, complaining we’re not saving enough, and what if he loses his job again, on and on.”

  Kelly looked up from her phone. “Okay, everyone. Ashley just texted me.”

  Linda laughed. “She’s been texting you all night. Sophie, did you say you were writing a screenplay?”

  “She’s in New York with Connor. I told you his Dad works for a big computer company, right?” Kelly was talking and texting at the same time, barely touching her food.

  Linda rolled her eyes. “Yes, we all know that.”

  “So, they’re at this big event for Facebook. Connor’s dad knows people who work at Facebook and somehow they all got invited to this promotional thing. He’s trying to set Connor up with a job. Anyway, Ashley just saw Mark Zuckerberg. I’ve got to call her.” Kelly got up and went in the other room.

  Linda rolled her eyes. “So Connor’s dad is going to get him some awesome job with Facebook? What are we doing wrong, ladies?”

  Sophie poured another glass of wine, also filling Linda’s glass. Lynn was at the sink washing dishes. “Hey Lynn, get back here. We’ll clean up.” She filled Lynn’s glass too. “Come on, Lynn. I poured you some more wine.”

  Lynn walked back to the table, wiping her hands on a dishtowel tucked into her jeans.

  She shook her head. “Like my mother always said, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Unfortunately, my parents didn’t know anyone.”

  Sophie sighed. “Where did I go wrong? But I’m not giving up. This is just a detour. I am going to own that bed and breakfast in the islands.”

  Linda scoffed. “That's going to be hard too, you know. And do you honestly think Ray will finish the work at a B&B, or will you just be nagging him about something different? What is this screenplay you are now writing?”

  Sophie ignored the screenplay question. She didn’t mean to reveal that information. “Sure it will be hard work, but it’ll be a hell of a lot more interesting than crunching numbers in a cubicle.

  Anyway, sounds like Ashley may have hit the jackpot with this guy Connor. His dad’s loaded and he’s setting Connor up with a job?”

  Linda laughed. “Well she got the memo. Kelly made sure of that.”

  Now it was Lynn’s turn to laugh. “Yes THE MEMO. Go to college, get your M.R.S. and marry well.”

  Sophie shook her head. “Does everyone know about this memo? Because I never got the memo.”

  Linda nodded. “Neither did I. But it’s out there. I think our mothers were supposed to tell us about it. Lynn, your mother must have told you. Doug makes good money and look at this house you live in.”

  “Well, yes, my mother did send me the memo, but the
re are no guarantees. Doug lost his job twice over the years and we’ve had our ups and downs. Sometimes you just have this overwhelming feeling you have no control over the course of your life. You do everything right, graduate from college, get a job, pay your taxes, buy a house, pay your bills on time, and contribute to your 401K. Everything they tell you to do, then they lay you off and pull the rug right out from under you.”

  They could hear Kelly laughing and screaming in the other room.

  "You’re right, Lynn,” Sophie agreed. “There are no guarantees. Ashley will get married, she’ll buy a house, she’ll have kids, and those kids will become teenagers. Her young, handsome, exciting husband never did get that job at Facebook or maybe he did, but it’s now ten years later and Zuckerberg sold out Facebook to someone else. Her handsome husband’s been laid off. He’s ten pounds heavier and balding. They’ve got bills to pay, dinner to make, car repairs, college, and the economy is tanking. They’re always fighting about money. Where’s the romance now? Where are the dreams and aspirations?”

  Linda grimaced. “Listen to Debbie Downer. Ha. I love that. Aspirations. Who at our age has aspirations?”

  “Do you remember Ellen, that woman I worked with at the foundation?” Lynn asked.

  Sophie nodded. “Wasn’t she at your Cinco de Mayo party?”

  “Yes, she was. She asked her husband for a divorce. You know what was the first thing the bastard did? Quit his job. She has a really good job as director of a foundation, so now she has to pay him child support. Alimony too, I think.”

  Linda poured a little more wine in her glass. “Do people still get alimony?”

  Lynn shrugged her shoulders. “I guess if they’re unemployed they do.”

  Banging her hand on the table, Sophie shouted, “Well, that’s not fair. He can do that, just quit his job and get alimony.”

  “I don’t think people get alimony anymore unless it’s a hardship case, and life isn’t fair Sophie. Who ever told you it was?” Linda asked.

  “Trust me, I already know that. You might be right about the alimony, Linda.”

  Kelly walked back in the room. “What did I miss? What are you guys talking about?”

  Linda tried once again. “We are talking about Sophie’s screenplay.”

  “Oh my God. You have a screenplay? We should tell Connor’s dad about this. He knows people in Hollywood. What is it about?”

  Sophie smiled at her. “Life and love. How do you make love last? How do you go back to the beginning? When you first met and the passion was still alive.”

  Lynn sighed. “Oh, wouldn’t we all love the thrill of falling in love again.”

  “Is that what it’s about?" Linda asked. "Well, I agree there’s nothing like the excitement of meeting someone and falling in love, that period before your first fight.”

  Kelly scoffed. “I don’t know about that. I can certainly live without the sex.”

  “You can? Not me. But anyway, I haven’t written anything down yet. It’s all just in my head, but I think about it constantly while on my long commute.”

  Lynn clapped her hands. “You’ve got to start writing it down. Will the wine emergencies be in it?”

  THE BEST BOY

  The train blew its whistle as it pulled out of the station. She reached over, tapping his knee. As he looked up, she mouthed the words “I love that song.” He pulled his earphones out and smiled the biggest, most charming smile ever directed at her. She smiled right back at him.

  “Yeah, I love this too. It’s got a really positive message. Chill, ya know?” His voice was very deep and pleasant sounding. She thought he could be a disc jockey.

  “What other music do you like?” She definitely wanted to keep the conversation going.

  “Bob Marley, Phish, Sublime, Dispatch, older stuff too, like Led Zeppelin, The Dead, a lot of different things. How ‘bout you?”

  “All of the above, plus I really still do love the Dave Matthews Band. Mostly their older stuff from Under the Table and Crash. Jack Johnson. His music really makes me happy. It’s a guaranteed pick-me-up when I’m feeling blue.”

  He smiled that smile again and leaned towards her, resting his arms on his knees and folding his hands in front of him. His gaze was steady, and although she was feeling a little shy and nervous, she held it with her own fixed look. “Well, I hope you’re not feeling blue very often. I can play some Jack Johnson songs. Not very well, but his chords are pretty easy to learn. I definitely don’t sing as well as him.” He laughed at himself. “You heard me singing just then, didn’t you?” She smiled and nodded yes. She imagined lying in bed with him, hearing that deep, sexy laugh and rolling over into his arms. She hoped her cheeks were still rosy from the cold run to the train because she felt herself blushing. The young mother sitting next to him leaned against the window, watching them through slit eyes. “So, you play guitar?” she asked.

  “I try. Do you work at that last stop?”

  “Yes. How ‘bout you?”

  “I live in Newburyport, but I’m headed to a show at the Paradise. Are you going into town tonight, too?”

  “I live in town, out near Cleveland Circle.”

  “Sweet. So you commute out here to work?”

  “Yeah. Kind of backwards, huh? It’s called a reverse commute.”

  “Do you like your job?”

  “No.”

  He waved his hand flat in front of him like a blackjack player who doesn’t want another card. “That’s a definitive no? Not a maybe? Sorta? A little bit? Just absolutely no?” He crinkled his nose. “What do you do?”

  She sighed. “It’s really boring and hard to explain.”

  “Go ahead. Try and explain.”

  “You know when you’re reading something on the Internet and some of the words or phrases are highlighted? If you click on them it brings you to another article or more information.”

  “Uhhuh.” He seemed to be really paying attention, concentrating on what she was saying.

  “Well, those are called hyperlinks, the highlighted words. I get the finished article with the links and then I click it and make sure it directs you to the correct information.”

  “Are the articles interesting?”

  “No.” She smiled.

  He waved his hand like before. He had beautiful hands, strong with long fingers. “Again with the flat out no? Bummer.” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing the stubble on his chin, smiling at her and shaking his head. “How do you get a job like that?”

  “You major in creative writing in college and want to be a writer, but that doesn’t pay the rent. Not yet.”

  “Not yet. That’s good. Ya gotta believe. So you write?”

  “Well, yes, I try to, but most days my brain is fried from working eight hours at a computer and I don’t want to get back on the computer when I get home. I haven’t sat down and written seriously in months. I had such big plans when I graduated from college, but now I feel like I’m treading water or even worse, swimming backwards. Drowning. Watch out for the undertoad.” She shook her head.

  He laughed. “World According to Garp. I love that book.”

  “You do?” She gazed at him with what felt like such a look of longing she knew she was blushing again. She really hoped he wouldn't notice how wistful she sounded, but he was looking directly at her, focused on her every word.

  “Geez, sounds like you’re always going backwards. You’re commuting backwards to work and your big plans for the future aren’t going in the right direction either.” He snapped his fingers. “What is that? The reverse commute? Hold on, I know it.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin for a second. “Double entendre, right?”

  She jumped a little, clapped her hands and very excitedly and loudly said, “I can’t believe you just said that. Yes, you get it. I used that exact same phrase a while ago. But my...um, the person I was talking to, he so did not get it.” She shook her head, smiling. The young mother sat up in her seat, shifting the sleeping baby to her other sh
oulder.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake her?” she whispered.

  The young mom shook her head no. The businessman closed his laptop, sliding it in its case and getting up to leave as the train came to a stop. The train conductor announced, “Swampscott, this stop.” The baby whimpered. The young mom shot her a look, as if it were her fault instead of the train conductor’s. As the businessman stood up he said, “Excuse me” and the boy across from her hopped up, moving into the aisle. She checked out his lean body. He was about five ten. All four people across the aisle also got up to leave the train. He tapped her on the shoulder, nodded his head towards the empty seats across from them and whispered, “Let’s bounce.”

  She grabbed her bags, he picked up his backpack and they moved across the aisle, taking window seats across from each other, placing their things on the seats next to them. He winked at her mischievously.

  “So do you work? Go to school?” she asked.

  “Which one should I start with? Umm, let’s see. I graduated from high school and went into an electrician’s apprenticeship with the IBEW. Do you know what that is?”

  “The union, right?”

  “Yup, my uncle helped me. That took four years. Now I work with my uncle. But I’m saving money to move to L.A. I’ve got a buddy out there who works on films. He’s a best boy, and that’s what I’m hoping to do too, on my way to becoming head electrician on academy award winning movies.”

  “I always see the best boy in the credits. So, that’s what a best boy is? An electrician?”

  “Well, there are two kinds of best boys, the electrician and the grip. The grip stages the rigging and moves the cameras. A best boy is just another name for head assistant. I should have enough money to move out there by the fall. That’s what I’m planning anyway, mid-September is my goal.”

  “That’s awesome. Maybe if I ever write a screenplay, I can send it to you and you can give it to some director or something.”

  He rubbed his chin again, looked out the window then turned to her with a smile. She thought he seemed to be one happy guy. He was always smiling. It was a killer smile, the kind of smile that made her heart skip a beat.