The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  “I’m leaving a little early. Dentist’s appointment.”

  He laughed. “You too? Okay. See you tomorrow.” He put his headphones back on and went back to whatever he was smiling at on his computer.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Sophie pulled up to the movie theater. It was dusk, the lights in the parking lot blinked on. There was one other car in the lot. A bald, husky man about fifty years of age was sitting in the driver’s seat, eating a sandwich.

  Sophie got out of her car and walked into the theater. The lobby was empty, no one working at the ticket booth or the concession stand. There were eight theaters, four on each side and an area with pinball machines along the back wall. Sophie called out, “Is anyone here?”

  Walking up and down the lobby, she opened the door to each of the eight theaters, calling out, “Hello? Anyone in here?” Every one of the eight screens was showing an ad for the concession stand. Each theater had a tickertape sign above the door, running the names of all the movies playing that day. It was impossible to tell which theater her movie was playing in. She walked up and down several times. Now that she escaped from work a half hour early and was here, she certainly didn’t want to give up and leave.

  The man from the car in the parking lot came in. She thought he might work here, so she walked up to him. He looked over at her and asked, “Are they open? Anyone here to sell tickets?”

  “No. I haven’t seen anyone. I’ve been searching around.”

  “Maybe we can watch for free.”

  “I’ve been checking it out. I’m not sure the movie just starts. I think someone has to turn the film on, my movie was supposed to begin ten minutes ago.”

  A door creaked open. A young man came out of a small closet behind the popcorn machine. “All right,” Sophie shouted. “There is someone working here. We weren’t sure you were open for business.”

  The young man smiled sheepishly and rubbed his eyes. He walked over to the ticket booth. The husky man was going to another movie, a sci-fi adventure. He walked over to the concession stand and waited while Sophie bought her ticket. “Theater six,” the boy said. She chose a seat eight rows back from the screen. The lights dimmed as she watched what seemed like a half hour of previews. After another ad for popcorn and soda, the room got darker and the movie began. Sophie was still alone in the theater. The Actor appeared in a car on the screen, driving through the streets of L.A.

  THE BELLE OF AMHERST

  She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Sitting at her desk in her cubicle, reading an article on Emily Dickinson's poetry, she thought Katie was right, maybe she could write about her boring life. After all, Emily Dickinson was a recluse who never left her house in Amherst, but look at the things she wrote.

  “He touched me, so I live to know that such a day, permitted so.... And now, I’m different from before As if I breathed superior air or brushed a royal gown”

  At the very least she liked the articles she was reading now. She finished the medical advice assignment and moved on to American poetry. First it was Walt Whitman and now Emily.

  “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.”

  She hoped she would hear from him soon. He called Thursday after they spent the snow day together. He wanted to let her know the framers had pushed them off again, so he was going to Cannon Mountain, skiing for the day. Then he got a call that work was canceled all the way to Monday, so he decided to stay through the weekend with a friend in Waterville Valley who worked as a chef at the mountain. His friend had ski passes from work and they’d both be able to ski for free. “Just wanted to call and let you know I’m thinking about you, and I'll get in touch as soon as I get back,” he said.

  “I envy seas whereon he rides...I envy speechless hills that gaze upon his journey...I envy light that wakes him”

  He certainly seemed to have a lot of friends. It was now another Thursday. A full week since she’d heard from him. Tomorrow was her birthday. She was getting nervous. She should have known things were too perfect. Nothing was ever that perfect.

  “I dwell in possibility.”

  Oh well. He was busy. He was with his friend all weekend and now he must have finally started the job, probably working late to make up for lost time. She wouldn’t have been able to see him until yesterday anyway. Nick was home over the weekend. He stayed until Wednesday and was now back in Dallas for three whole weeks. There was talk he might be asked to relocate to the Dallas office. He assumed she would move with him.

  “She rose to his requirement, dropped the playthings of her life/To take the honorable work of woman and wife”

  She hadn’t told him yet, but she had absolutely no intentions of moving to Dallas with him. She knew she wouldn't like Texas and she thought this might be the logical conclusion to their relationship.

  They celebrated her birthday early, on Saturday night. He brought her to a very expensive steak restaurant where just a side of broccoli cost seven dollars. She thought this very unlike him because he also had to be thinking that was a ridiculous sum of money for a side of broccoli. He must have gotten a gift certificate from one of his clients. She wasn’t sure though, because she was in the ladies room when he paid the bill.

  Despite that possibility, he was extremely generous but not very creative with the birthday gift. He gave her a three hundred dollar gift certificate to Lord & Taylor. She was relieved it wasn’t Talbot’s, deciding it was thoughtful of him to realize she would never shop there. She opened the second envelope he handed her. It was a gift certificate to a hair salon on Newbury Street.

  “I gave myself to him.... The wealth might disappoint, Myself a poorer prove than this great purchaser suspect, The daily own of love.”

  “So I see. This is the total makeover package. You want me to get that more polished wardrobe and cut my hair.”

  “You can do whatever you want with the gift certificates. I thought it would just be a nice opportunity to treat yourself.”

  “Don’t you think I look nice tonight?” She was wearing her favorite dress. It was strapless with a pale blue bodice, flaring out to a short, puffy white skirt with blue dots. She thought it was flirty and the blue accentuated her eyes.

  She made two skinny braids with pieces of hair near her face, wrapping them around her head under the loose bun at the nape of her neck. The braids looked like a headband holding back her hair, except for the little curls that escaped and framed her face. She loved this look.

  “I don’t like your hair like that.”

  “Let me not mar that perfect dream”

  Needless to say, the night erupted into a huge argument, ending with her sleeping in the guest room. Although five days passed since she last slept in that bed, she could smell the clean soap smell of him on the sheets. She considered throwing the hair salon gift certificate away but stashed it in her desk drawer instead. She couldn’t wait to go shopping at Lord & Taylor. Just wait until Nick saw what three hundred dollars could buy.

  “Wild nights! Wild nights! Were I with thee”

  The evening was in sharp contrast to that beautiful snow day earlier in the week. After finishing their coffee and cereal that snowy Tuesday morning, they bundled up and headed across the street to the park, grabbing a carrot and Oreos for the snowman’s nose and eyes. She found a piece of red ribbon for the mouth and an old scarf she never wore anymore.

  They worked on the snowman for quite some time and stepped back to admire their work. She looked over at him as he fell back into the fluffy snow and waved his arms and legs, making a snow angel. She fell back too, her wings touching his.

  The snowball fight began in earnest. They ran around the park, hiding behind trees and bushes, firing snowballs until her arm felt like it was going to fall off. He was extremely competitive but in the end she won, jumping on him and putting a snowball down his back.

  Laughing she said, “That’ll get you for tickling m
e this morning until I almost died.” Looking back on it, she thought he might have thrown the fight.

  Back at the apartment, they took a shower together. Now they’d made love four times in less than twelve hours. They decided to go to the ICA, the new museum out on the waterfront. She’d never been there. She and Nick had talked about going, but he didn’t really seem interested. Most likely he was just humoring her, as he often did.

  Bands of snow passed through off and on all day. The museum was in a large glass building with views of the harbor. He thought it was a great place to spend a snowy afternoon. A special exhibit of everyday things made into sculptures was on display, each in a separate room, the material they were made from unrecognizable until the viewer got up close. One room had white paper plates folded into honeycomb spirals, that from a distance looked like coral. He loved the clear plastic cups stacked by the hundreds, made to look like white, undulating hills. They reminded him of skiing the moguls in Vail. He took a picture with his cell phone and sent it to his sister.

  She laughed out loud in her cubicle, thinking of art made from ordinary things. It was kind of like writing about an ordinary, everyday life. She supposed anything could be interesting. It was all in how you looked at it.

  What if he never called? What if he decided he wasn't interested? He probably had lots of girlfriends. After all, he was really cute and fun to be with. She was sure he had no problem meeting girls.

  “Heart we will forget him! You and I tonight. You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light”

  She had plans to eat lunch with Dan so she walked over to accounting. He was talking to the woman in the cubicle next to him. Her name was Sophie. Dan said she was pretty cool for an older woman. They exchanged YouTube emails. Dan forwarded her a really funny one from Sophie just the other day. As they walked to the cafeteria, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked caller ID. It was him.

  “Dan, I have to take this. I’ll meet you down there.... Hello?" She walked out the front door although it was freezing outside and she wasn't wearing a coat.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry I didn’t call. I left my phone charger at home and by Friday the phone died. Your number was in the phone, so you know how that goes. This week has been crazy, we’re working ten, eleven hour days to get this done before the sheet rockers show up.”

  “That’s okay. I understand. No worries.”

  “No, I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to sound like a shit, making up a bunch of excuses. I hate when people do that.”

  “Really, it’s okay. It’s nice to hear from you.” She was rubbing her arm and bouncing up and down to keep warm, her breath swirling in front of her.

  “Can I see you this weekend? You could come up on the train after work Friday. I can make you dinner here at my man cave.” He laughed at himself. “That’s sounds really stupid. Anyway, you could pack some clothes, maybe spend the weekend?”

  She tried to interject but he was talking fast, as if he were nervous. “That’s pretty presumptuous, isn't it? It’s Thursday. You probably already have plans. How about just tomorrow? Or Saturday? Whenever you're free.”

  “I have no plans this weekend.”

  “All right. I’ll meet you at the train after work. Text me when you know what time you’ll be coming in.”

  “Sounds great. See you tomorrow.” She hung up and started doing a little jig. Now this was a real birthday present. She decided to confide in Dan. She had to tell someone and he was always confiding in her about his doubts on his impending marriage. He had those plans for the wedding in the Bahamas but he felt like he’d been dragged into it and it wasn’t really what he wanted to do. She commiserated with him and often told him she wasn’t quite sure how she ended up living with Nick. She often asked him, “We can’t just end up in a relationship out of default, can we?”

  She was a little breathless and very excited when she sat down. “Do you remember last week when we were running for the train in the snow? You are not going to believe what happened when I took that seat.” Amazed with her story, he was almost a little envious, but very supportive. He told her to have a nice time this weekend. For the rest of the afternoon, she couldn’t focus on her work. She was supposed to finish the Dickinson articles by Friday and start on Langston Hughes by Monday. She would really have to focus tomorrow. How on earth was she going to do that?

  “To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.” Emily Dickinson continued to guide her.

  THE FORTY HOUR WORK WEEK

  Later that night when Sophie arrived home from the movie, Ray was making a sandwich in the kitchen. “Hey, Sophie. How was yoga?”

  “Great," she lied. She certainly wasn't going to tell him she snuck out of work to go see a movie alone in an empty theater at 4:30 on a Tuesday afternoon.

  “Are you going to eat something?” Ray sat down with his sandwich and a beer.

  “Well, I see you’ve taken care of yourself. Does it ever occur to you to make dinner once in awhile?” Ray put his sandwich down and started to stand up, looking annoyed.

  “Never mind. I guess it’s too much to ask. I’ll just heat up some leftovers. You used to be a really good cook Ray, do you remember that?”

  She went to the fridge, got out a tupperware and put it in the microwave. “I work all week, forty hours plus the forty five minute commute each way, and I do this fifty weeks a year. I do all the laundry, cook dinner, pay the bills, try to keep up with the gardens but I’ve lost that battle, haven’t I? The gardens are an overgrown, unsightly mess.

  "I was also the one for years who managed the kids and all that school stuff. The permission slips, the homework, the college applications, financial aid forms. Work takes up so much of my week, how the hell am I supposed to have time for all these other things?”

  “It’s not like I’m not doing anything Sophie. I work all day too, come home and mow the lawn, work on the addition, and fix anything and everything that breaks around here.”

  “I know, Ray. I’m sorry. You know, the other day I was talking about this with Dan. I asked him if he knew who came up with the forty hour work week, five days for the man and only two for yourself. Dan had no idea either, so I Googled it and guess who it was?’

  Ray shrugged. “How the hell would I know?”

  “Henry Ford, the capitalist who gave us the assembly line and the automobile. Bastard. But apparently, this was an improvement. Before the labor laws were passed, you could work possibly eighty hours a week. Can you imagine? Do you know European countries have a much better work life balance than we do?”

  “So, what now? Are you thinking we should get a B&B in Europe?”

  “Hey, we liked Spain. Maybe we could own a little guesthouse in one of those towns in the hills above the Mediterranean? The pueblo blancos?”

  The microwave buzzed. Sophie took out her leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes, leaned against the counter and ate right out of the tupperware. “You shouldn’t do that, Sophie. Those plastic containers can give you cancer if you microwave them. Something in them breaks down and leeches into your food.”

  “Seriously?” She sighed and took a plate out of the cupboard, turned the tupperware upside down and dumped her dinner on the plate.

  “What is that gonna do? You already microwaved it in the plastic.”

  “Well I’m gonna die of something, right? Although I would really prefer the good clean heart attack instead of cancer.” Eating quietly, she thought about her cousin Kathy who passed away four years ago from breast cancer. Friends all their lives, Kathy was two when her family moved into the house in back of Sophie’s. Their mothers took them out in their strollers together and once they could walk and talk, they played together all the time, down at the brook, sneaking up into a tree house, riding bikes together and making bracelets out of embroidery floss. They went to different colleges, but got together soon after graduation and moved into an apartment in Boston. One year they left their jobs for
two months, backpacking through Europe.

  After they married, they somehow ended up moving to New Hampshire and buying homes only five miles apart from each other. Never able to have children, Kathy became like a second mom to Sophie's twins. The boys loved her and often slept over the house. She took them on treasure hunts in the woods, skiing in the winter and swimming at the beach in the summer. Sophie and Kathy drank wine after work at least once a week, discussing marriage, work and all their fond memories of traveling and being single in Boston. They got a lot of miles out of those stories and never tired of telling them.

  In her late forties, Kathy was diagnosed with stage one breast cancer. Being overly cautious, she chose to have a double mastectomy and was told they had gotten everything, no need for radiation or chemo. The reconstructive surgery was painful but when it was over, she seemed to be out of the woods, so she put it behind her.

  The doctors told her she needed to take Tamoxifin for a couple of years. Despite her reservations and the risks she heard about the drug, she followed the doctors’ advice. Kathy and her husband Sam joined Sophie, Ray and the boys for a trip to Spain that spring. They stayed in a condo in Marbella on the Costa del Sol, visiting the pueblo blancos, the Alhambra and Gibraltar. They had such a good time they started planning more trips, looking forward to many years of traveling together.

  Two years later, Kathy was diagnosed with uterine cancer, most likely caused by the Tamoxifin. This time it was really serious. She underwent chemo and radiation. The treatment was brutal. Sophie could never quite understand how the cure could be worse than the disease and how all the poisons could possibly make someone better. She ached watching Kathy suffer. She was so brave, continuing to work, always with a smile and a positive outlook. Sophie didn't think she could ever be that brave and optimistic. After eight grueling months, Kathy and Sam took a vacation to Italy. Five months later the cancer came back, spreading to her liver. Seven weeks later she was gone. She remembered the morning the day after Kathy died. Waking up in her bed, sunlight streaming through the lace curtains, she felt an overwhelming sadness. Still half asleep, she couldn’t remember why she felt so sad, but then it dawned on her. It was the first day without Kathy in the world.