The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  Sophie wiped tears from her eyes and stared out the window. “I miss Kathy,” she whispered.

  “I know you do, honey.” Ray got up, put his plate in the dishwasher and kissed Sophie on the forehead. “It’s okay, we all miss her.” He held her, stroking her hair and kissing her tear stained cheeks.

  Ray took a deep breath. “I know this isn’t a good time. I meant to tell you earlier. I was at the paint store and they were bugging me about my past due balance so I wrote them a check for five hundred forty dollars.”

  Sophie cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Five forty? Why so much? We can’t swing that right now.”

  “Well that was just the balance over ninety days. I actually owe them more than that, so I wanted to clear it up. By the way, I hate to tell you this, but the oil tank is low. I called for a delivery tomorrow.”

  “How much is that gonna be?”

  “Well the minimum delivery is two hundred gallons, so about five hundred twenty dollars. We need to tape a check to the door tomorrow morning before we leave for work.”

  “WHAT? So you never pay attention to the bills and have no idea what’s in the checkbook at any given time, but suddenly you take it upon yourself to pay two bills in one day totaling one thousand sixty dollars? Ray, I bring home twelve hundred bucks every other week. In one day, you spent almost what it takes me two weeks to earn.”

  “It’s not like I went out and bought new golf clubs or something, and I work too.”

  “I know, I know. But what about the mortgage, the car loan, the electric bill, the cell phones, the cable? Groceries. Gas. The list never ends, does it? Oh my God. How can we work five days a week all year long and still be broke? Couldn’t you have called me about the paint bill and given them two hundred fifty or something?”

  “Sorry, I had to do it. It’s my business account. I have a professional relationship with these guys and I looked like a schmuck.”

  “I’m sure you’re not the only one. Look, we’ll figure it out. Someone else will get paid late this month or maybe not at all. We’ll eat hot dogs and Kraft macaroni and cheese. I’m tired. I’m going upstairs to watch TV, while we still have cable.”

  Sophie put her plate in the dishwasher and went upstairs to bed. Ray picked up the tupperware she left on the counter and washed it, walked into the living room, got in his recliner and turned on the TV. He watched an old episode of the Sopranos, drifting off to sleep in the chair.

  Sophie was lying in bed watching cable news. They were discussing the impending budget crisis. No one wanted to take the advice of Simpson-Bowles, whoever the hell they were. She wondered if there was a word for how world events affect your personal life. When she watched the news, it all seemed so removed. But she knew it wasn't. The next day you could lose your job, your health insurance or your kids could lose their Pell grants. She’d had all these things happen to her in the past few years. She wished she knew Mr. Simpson and Mr. Bowles, maybe they could help with her personal budget crisis.

  She shut the TV off. In the distance, a train whistle blasted, getting louder as the train got closer, the freight engine rumbling on the tracks across the river. As she drifted off to sleep she thought, zeitgeist? Was that the word? Not quite?

  * * *

  Young Sophie was in The Actor’s apartment. They were discussing the meaning of the word zeitgeist.

  “I think it’s the spirit of the times.” The Actor was making her an awesome grilled cheese sandwich. He was slicing homemade whole grain bread and a block of good cheddar cheese. He added some really nice looking summer tomatoes, put the sandwiches on a pan and grilled them to perfection, cheese oozing out the sides. He brought her an imported beer along with the perfectly toasted sandwich, making one for himself too.

  The dream shifted to a nightclub. Young Sophie and the Actor were listening to a band. They were standing to the side of the stage and he had his arms around her. He leaned over, kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear.

  * * *

  At six a.m., the alarm clock went off in the Ryan bedroom. “Is it Friday yet?”

  “Sorry, Sophie. It’s only Thursday.”

  Ray rolled over and put his arm around her as Sophie moaned, pulling the pillow over her head. Ray got up, went downstairs and started the coffee. Sophie stayed in bed a while longer and drifted back to sleep.

  * * *

  Young Sophie was lying in bed beside The Actor. Slowly she began to wake, rolling onto her side and opening her eyes. The Actor was lying on his side, facing her, propped on his elbow with his head resting in his hand. He smiled at her.

  “How long have you been lying there like that?” she asked.

  “Just a little while. I was watching you sleep. You’re so beautiful.”

  She blushed as he leaned towards her, giving her kisses. Rolling on top of her, he pulled the spaghetti straps on her loose nightgown, revealing her breasts, showering them with kisses.

  * * *

  She bolted awake, staring at the clock. Six thirty. “Shit.” Jumping out of bed, she whimpered and put on the bathrobe that had fallen to the floor then headed to the shower.

  When she got back to the bedroom she turned on the TV and started to make the bed. The anchorman on a cable news program was discussing how long into the winter the Occupy Wall Street group could stay in Zuccotti Park. It was already early November and getting cold in New York City. She shut off the TV and went downstairs to grab a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, Ray. I overslept. I’m not going to be able to make lunches today, and I’m going to yoga again tonight, so do you think you could make dinner? Anything, even grilled cheese sandwiches would be good.”

  “Well, I’m doing an estimate after work.”

  “Never mind. Forget I even asked.”

  “Well, I could when I get home, but I might be later than you. You know I have to line up work, things really slow down at this time of year.”

  “No, I know, absolutely. Don’t worry about it. I’ll drum something up after yoga.”

  She walked over to Ray, gave him a kiss on the cheek and left. That morning her car was parked in the driveway because Ray’s truck was in the garage. It was a cold morning, her windows frosted. Turning on the defroster, she stared at the dashboard. The clock read 7:45. She sighed and rolled her eyes, turned up the radio and sipped her coffee while waiting for the windows to clear.

  Later that morning, Ray was lifting large ladders off the back of his truck. The wind was howling, all the leaves were off the trees. He set up staging on the side of a house and blew on his hands to keep them warm. He climbed up one of the ladders and stepped out on the staging at the second floor.

  Sophie was in her cubicle, the radio playing softly as she ate a yogurt at her desk. She opened a tiny packet of honey and drizzled it onto the yogurt, making circular patterns. She seemed to be in a trance. Her boss Tina walked into the cubicle, all business. She put a pile of checks on Sophie’s desk. “Good morning,” she said, sounding chipper.

  “Thanks,” Sophie said, but Tina had already moved on. She was all hustle and bustle this morning as she headed to Dan’s cubicle with more paperwork. Sophie went back to eating her yogurt with a dreamy look in her eyes. She was imagining The Actor coming up behind her, leaning over, lifting her hair from her neck and kissing her.

  At two o’clock, Dan and Sophie went into Tina’s office for a meeting. Tina was discussing new IRS rules, something about taxes on foreign vendors and the forms they would need to acquire from these vendors. Sophie looked dazed, not really paying attention. Dan had his hands folded with his arms on his knees and he was looking between his legs, down at the floor.

  Sophie had a notepad in her lap but wasn’t writing anything down. Instead she was shaking her pen, making it wiggle. Once in a while she nodded and said, “UmHmm.” When Tina turned her attention to an incoming email for a moment, Dan looked over at Sophie and rolled his eyes.

  Tina looked back at the two of them and said, �
�I realize this is going to involve a lot more work for the both of you and it will be tricky at first. We are all going to have to put on our tax hats and learn these new procedures, but we’re good at that. We wear a lot of hats here in accounting. I’ve got to go to a meeting right now about some of this and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Sure thing,” Dan said. “Okay, thanks,” Sophie chimed in. They both rolled their desk chairs back to their cubicles. Sophie watched as Tina walked past, listened for the door to close then got up and went in Dan’s cubicle.

  “What the fuck? We’ve needed help in this department for a year, and now we’ve got this foreign tax shit to deal with?”

  Dan was slumped in his chair. “No kidding. I guess we’ll be expected to work overtime for a while until they get this all figured out.”

  “I hate when she starts talking about the hats. Like it’s all so interesting and different when it’s all just the same shitty hat.”

  Dan chuckled. “Hey, check this out.” He turned his computer screen towards Sophie and showed her a YouTube video of a woman paddling on a surfboard towards some kayakers. Suddenly a whale came out of the water and filled the screen. Sophie jumped a little. “Holy shit.” They both laughed. Dan said, “Can you believe she didn’t fall off?”

  “I know. And what’s with all those seagulls? Where did they suddenly come from?”

  Sophie’s cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and saw it was her sister Annie. “I have to take this,” she said. As she walked back to her cubicle, Dan continued to watch YouTube videos.

  “Hey, Annie. What are you calling for at this time of day? Aren’t you still in school?...Oh my God, is he okay?...All right, I’ll tell my boss. I’ll try to get there as soon as possible.”

  She hung up just as Tina passed by her cubicle. She followed her to her office and closed the door.

  “Hey Tina, my sister just called. My dad had a heart attack.”

  “Oh no, is he all right?”

  “I don’t know much. My sister was at school. She’s a teacher. She just heard about it, but apparently it happened last night. She didn’t have a lot of details. I’m going to have to go to Providence.”

  “Of course, no problem. Call me later if you need to stay. I’ll put you in for half a sick day.”

  Sophie thought, ‘Really? I have to use a half a sick day? I only have two sick days left. Your dad has a heart attack and they nickle and dime you about sick days? It's already three o'clock. I leave at four thirty. That's not half a day.

  Out loud she said, "I’ll let you know when I have more information.”

  "Okay, let me know if you need to take another sick day tomorrow."

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY

  As the train pulled into the Newburyport station, she watched as he got out of a green Taurus station wagon and walked towards the train with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing khaki work pants, a Carhartt jacket and work boots, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, numerous strands of wavy hair escaping. She smiled and thought of Johnny Depp in the movie Chocolat.

  He gave her a giant bear hug, lifting her off the ground while he kissed her. He nuzzled his nose in her hair and said, “You smell so nice. Here let me help you with that.”

  He put her down and took the gym bag she was carrying. She was also wearing a backpack with more clothes. She had no idea how to pack for the weekend or if she would be staying until Monday morning. She hoped she was staying until Monday morning. The commute to Newburyport was so quick and easy, a far cry from her daily forty-minute train ride along with the subway connection to North Station. But more importantly, another night with him would be sheer bliss. She hoped. It had been almost two weeks since she’d last seen him and she was feeling slightly nervous.

  As they pulled out of the parking lot he looked over and said, “I live really close to here.” He laughed, but had a serious look on his face. “Hey, buckle up.”

  As she locked the seat belt in, she finally noticed he lost the scruffy beard. She reached over and put her hand on his clean-shaven face. “Hey, where’d your beard go?”

  “I was wondering when you’d notice. I was trying to trim it the other day and the razor slipped.” He rubbed his chin. “What do you think?”

  “Very handsome.” They were sitting at a stoplight so he leaned over and kissed her. “So, how have you been? Did you miss me? I know I missed you.” The light turned green.

  “You were having fun skiing. I, on the other hand, was working. You did cross my mind a few times while I was reading articles about Emily Dickinson.”

  “Emily Dickinson reminded you of me? Wow, I’ve never been told that one before.” He laughed and shook his head.

  “Wild nights! Wild nights! Might I but moor tonight in thee!”

  “Might I but moor tonight in thee? I had no idea Emily said things like that. I thought she was an old maid. Didn’t she never leave her house, or something like that?”

  “Something like that. From what I was reading, she apparently had a very active imagination.”

  “Here we are.” He pulled into the driveway of an old colonial home. The houses on the street were close to the road with small side yards between them. At the end of his driveway was a detached garage set back from the house. He pointed to it and said, “That’s me. Let’s go inside and maybe you can show me what Emily means by might I but moor tonight in thee.”

  The door was to the left of the garage, a staircase led to the second floor. At the top of the stairs was an open door leading to a good size bathroom. The apartment was one big room with a sectional sofa, a large screen TV, a bench press, and some bookcases. At the other end of the room was a horseshoe bar with four stools. Against the wall, behind the bar, were bottles of booze, a full variety of bar glasses, and two taps, Sam Adams and Heineken.

  To the left of the bar, towards the back of the garage, the room seemed to get a little longer and tucked in the corner was a double bed, neatly made up with a southwestern textile blanket on top. A doorway just past the bathroom led to a small galley kitchen.

  “This is it, home sweet home. Everything a guy would ever need, and those taps are for real. They're connected to kegerators in the fridge underneath the bar, but the beer I’m pouring doesn’t always have what it says on the tap.”

  “Do you have a lot of parties here?”

  “Not really. This is the place to watch the big games though. Celtics, Red Sox, Bruins, Pats. There are quite a few games I guess. My uncle and two of his friends play poker here on Thursday nights. I’m their fourth, but I have yet to win any money. There’s a folding card table and chairs in the garage that they bring up here.”

  He put her bags on the floor at the foot of the bed, threw his coat on the sofa and kissed her while sliding her coat off and dropping it on the floor behind her. Holding her face in both hands, he let out a soft moan.

  Pulling back, he smiled shyly. “Sorry, am I going too fast here? It’s just I really did miss you. A lot. Can I get you a drink?” He walked over to the bar.

  “I’d love a drink. Let’s see, today is my birthday, so I should have something special. Can you make a cosmopolitan?”

  “No way. It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have baked you a cake.”

  “Really?” She laughed and broke into a little song and dance routine, tap dancing and singing. “If I knew you were coming I’da baked a cake, baked a cake.” Suddenly embarrassed, she covered her blushing face, laughing nervously. “Wow, I don’t know where that came from? That’s just a little routine I learned in tap dance class when I was five years old.”

  “That was interesting,” he chuckled. “Never heard that song before.” He brought her cosmo over and put it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. He kissed her forehead, then down along her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I was originally thinking I would cook dinner here, but if it’s your birthday maybe we should
go out to dinner. How old are you by the way?”

  “Twenty five. Dinner here sounds perfect. I don’t want to go out. I’d like to stay right here.”

  “I was just gonna make ziti and chicken parmesan. Is that okay?”

  “Just ziti and chicken parm? That sounds really good.”

  “You know what, I have to run next door and get something from my aunt. I'll be right back.” He kissed her and ran downstairs.

  She got her toothbrush from her backpack and went to the bathroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, made the two skinny braids she liked and wrapped them around like a headband, leaving her hair down this time.

  She got her drink from the coffee table, peeked in the kitchen and looked through his bookcases. He had an eclectic mix of reading material. Historical nonfiction, copies of Life of Pi and To Kill a Mockingbird, a travel guide to Australia and books of poems by William Butler Yeats and Pablo Neruda. He also had a stack of children’s books with Goodnight Moon on the top. She heard the door downstairs open and he came running up the stairs. He didn’t seem to have gotten anything from his aunt.

  “Excuse me, I’ve got to get out of these work clothes.” He walked over to the bed, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his white t-shirt over his head. She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kissed his lean, muscular back. Turning around, he lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s kind of scary. You’ve got to know something about me. Remember when I told you I’m okay ninety percent of the time? Well the other ten percent of the time, I’m scared to death to get close to someone, because I’m afraid of losing them. I put up these walls, or disappear for a while.”

  “I see.” She was stroking his jawline. It was really soft without the stubble.