The Reverse Commute

by Sheila Blanchette

  “Turkey calls.” Doug picked up a ten-pound bag of cracked corn from the deck as they walked towards the woods, spreading handfuls of it on a large, flat rock, also scattering some on the ground. They walked towards a group of pine trees that formed a copse, additional cut pine branches lay vertically around the trees for extra coverage. Inside was a blue cooler large enough for two people to sit closely. Doug opened it. “Beer?”

  “Thanks.” They opened their beers and sat on the cooler. Sophie whispered, because she thought she should, “Now what?” Doug whispered back, “We call them in.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a rectangular box shaped turkey call. He continued to whisper. “We’ll try this one first.”

  Sophie read the print on the top of the box and laughed loudly. “Raspy Old Hen? I think most days Ray would say that’s me.” Doug put his finger to his mouth, shushing her. He grasped the base with his left hand and the lid with his right, pulling the lid across the box in short strokes, making a loud, piercing sound. He did that several times. Sophie watched, drinking her beer.

  “That was the turkey yelp. Toms yelp. We can make a clucking noise, too. That’s the hens.” He started to make shorter, sharper strokes and the box clucked. He did this for a minute.

  “What else ya got in that pocket?’" Sophie asked. Doug took out a small slate circle and a dowel. Holding the dowel like a pen, he drew it across the slate, making a more high pitched yelping sound than the box caller, like fingernails on a blackboard. Sophie covered her ears.

  Doug suddenly sat at attention. “Shhh.” He pointed towards the woods. Three turkeys walked along a path towards the rock with the cracked corn. Following behind was an entire flock of about thirty large birds. Doug and Sophie watched raptly as the turkeys wandered around, eating corn and pecking at the ground. A few minutes later a group of hens startled, the Toms fanned their tail feathers. Spellbound, Doug and Sophie watched, totally engrossed, as the turkeys quickly scattered back into the woods.

  Lynn shouted from the back of the house. “Hey, are you guys out there?”

  Doug shouted back, slightly annoyed. “Yeah. You scared the turkeys away.”

  “Is Sophie there? I saw her car in the driveway.”

  Sophie shouted back. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ll be there in a minute.” She turned to Doug. “That was awesome.” "Another beer?" he asked. Sophie nodded yes. “How about when they puffed up like that? That was so amazing, Doug. Thanks for letting me join you.”

  “Those are the Toms, the males. The peacocks of New Hampshire.”

  “I don’t know about that. They are some ugly bird, except when they fan their tails.” They drank their beers, contemplating their surroundings and the spectacle they just witnessed.

  “Hey, I forgot to show you this one.” He took another turkey call out of his pocket, a plastic spiral, like a piece of vacuum hose with a wooden handle. He stood up, lifted it above his head, then shook it, rhythmically moving it down to his waist and lifting it again like a tambourine, rocking with the rhythm of the warbling sound, his eyes closed.

  Sophie laughed. “Sorry, but you look like some kind of Indian shaman. You know something, Doug? You are so relaxed when you are unemployed. Not as tense and edgy, just a completely different person. This is weird, but I think unemployment agrees with you. Even Ray commented on it. He couldn’t believe how different you were at the UNH hockey game last weekend. He said you even had a second beer and stayed ‘til the end of the game, no rushing to the parking lot to beat the traffic.”

  “Guess I’m getting used to it. It’s the third time in my career I’ve been laid off. Corporate buyout with jobs shipped overseas, downsizing and now some office politics type of bullshit.”

  “Yeah, what exactly happened with that?”

  “Never mind, too ridiculous to even talk about. But this time around I have a decent nest egg. Almost thirty years of working and I managed to save something for myself. Not as much as I would have liked, but enough to ride this out until I find something, if we’re careful.”

  “Well, there’s that at least. You’re lucky. Ray and I have nothing, just that stupid old house of ours. Neither one of us ever had the kind of job with profit sharing, stock splits, bonuses, or whatever it takes to really save money. Just working for every penny we make and spending it paying the bills, faster than we can make it.”

  “I mean I’ve gotta keep working, but I think I’m done with corporate life. The nine to five rat race and the two weeks vacation. Every time I get a job I’m back to two weeks. Shit, that’s not enough time to relax, fish, do the things I enjoy.”

  Sophie laughed. “Watch turkeys.” Doug nodded in agreement, taking a long sip from his beer. “I feel your pain, Doug. I’m in the same boat. I think the French have it right, six weeks vacation. Remind me again why we hate the French? Life is too short. We all know that. Look at my cousin Kathy, she never got to spend her 401K.” She paused to take a sip of her beer. “There comes a point in your life when time is more valuable than money. And I’m thinking that point should come sooner than later, because you just never know. This is the only life I have, I have to live it wisely.” She gazed off into the distance. “Half the things we spend our money on, we don’t even need.”

  “I’ve been looking into buying a franchise, a wild bird store. Selling bird feed, turkey calls, bird houses, other outdoor hobby stuff.”

  Sophie chuckled. “Seriously? Can’t you buy a lot of that stuff at Wal-Mart? I mean that’s going to be your competition, right? Do you think in this economy people will shop at a high end bird store?”

  Doug looked dejected. “Well, I shop there and I’m unemployed.”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean it that way. I think it’s a good idea. Always better to be the boss, work for yourself. You work for the man, you come home with empty pockets. It’s something you obviously love.” She swept her hand around the turkey blind. “And you know what they say, do what you love and the money will follow.”

  “Who are they? I’ve always wondered that.”

  Sophie laughed. “Me too. Most of the time I don’t listen to them. But in this case, they might be right. Hey, it’s no crazier than Ray and me running a bed and breakfast in the islands, right? Buy another house we need to maintain and try to make a living doing it? Most people think we’re nuts.”

  “Yeah, I mean of course I’ll check out all of the expenses, get a business plan. I just don’t think I can go back to the corporate grind. I’ve been kicked around one too many times. You’re right. I am more relaxed. Speaking of which.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out something that looked like a cell phone. “Want a coupla hits?”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s called a vaporizer. Doesn’t smell when you smoke it and...” He put it to his ear like he was talking on a cell phone. “Just in case the teenagers walk in the room or something.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a baggie and loaded the vaporizer. He lit it, took a hit and handed it to Sophie, who took a hit and passed it back. They continued passing it back and forth while they talked.

  “Your pockets are like Mary Poppins’ bag.” She chuckled. “You should go for this bird store. I like the idea.”

  “Yeah. Ya know Ray was talking about your plans at the hockey game. I think you’ve convinced him it’s the way to go. He was telling me about that roofing job he was doing. I don’t know how he does manual labor in the freezing cold, up on a roof at his age. It’s not like he’s twenty anymore.” Doug shook his head.

  “Tell me about it.” She paused, took a long hit off the vaporizer and stared off into the woods, sipping her beer. “So he really seemed like he was with me on this?”

  “Sounded that way to me.”

  Lynn called from the house. “Sophie, where are you? Come in and have some wine.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I came here for a wine emergency. But before I go, I have to ask you something. Do turkeys fly?”

  “Domesticated ones don’t, but these w
ild turkeys do.”

  “How come I never see them flying?”

  “They only go about a quarter mile at a time and not very high. They perch in trees and that’s when they fly, to their perch. They feed on the ground, so that’s why everyone thinks they don’t fly.”

  “I see. So they make low, short flights. Do you ever dream of flying, Doug?”

  “No, can’t say I have.”

  “Wow, that’s too bad. Flying dreams are exhilarating. You feel awesome when you wake up from one. I used to dream them all the time. I’d fly high like a bird. But when I got older I started flying like a turkey. I wouldn’t even say it was flying. I’d just be walking down a sidewalk when my feet would take off from the ground and I’d float for about a quarter of a mile. Then I’d take another long step and float off again. Those were cool, but not as nice as really flying.”

  “What do you think that dream means?”

  “I Googled the meaning of flying dreams. It's a symbol for rising above something in your life that is troubling you, holding you down and making you unhappy. I haven’t even had a low flying turkey dream in quite some time. I guess no longer having those dreams explains my unhappiness. I feel stuck, like I can’t rise above my problems. I’ve lost control over my destiny.”

  “I wish I dreamed more. Maybe I do dream, but I never remember them.”

  “Well, I better go inside and see Lynn. Thanks for the turkeys, that was very cool.” She raised her beer bottle and tapping Doug’s bottle, said, “To turkeys and trade winds.”

  * * *

  Later that night she dreamt she was on the Isle of Capri, off the coast of Italy, on the deck of a bed and breakfast she and Kathy stayed at many years ago. After washing her jeans in the bathtub, she hung them off the back of some deck chairs to dry, gazing out at the Tyrrhenian Sea. She could just glimpse the Faraglioni, the three large rocks off the coast, in the Bay of Naples. Kathy walked out onto the deck.

  “My God, where have you been? You never come to me in my dreams and I’ve wanted you to visit so badly. There is so much I need to talk to you about. Ray and I are struggling. Things are so hard. This house is killing us and since you passed away, I lost my job and now work in a cubicle, which is driving me mad.”

  Kathy sat down next to her. “I forgot we washed these jeans in the tub here. Remember we filled the tub with soapy water, climbed in barefoot and stomped on them like we were crushing grapes? They were filthy.”

  “That’s because we were sitting on that muddy hill in Munich during Oktoberfest, wishing on stars and watching fireworks with that guy from Australia.”

  Kathy laughed. “Right. I forgot about that too.”

  “Why are so forgetful? I remember it all. Why did you leave so soon? We were supposed to end up in a nursing home together when we were ninety, smuggling wine into our room and telling each other our backpacking through Europe stories, and all the other stories over the years that we shared.”

  “What is it you need, Sophie?”

  “I need your advice and wisdom. I miss your wisdom.”

  “Do you remember what I told you about love? That your husband can’t be everything to you? That’s why you need your friends and your sisters, because there are just some things only women understand.”

  “Yes, but you were my friend and like a sister to me, and now you’re gone.”

  “You still have friends, Sophie. And Ray is your friend, he always has been. You’re just going through a rough patch. Things have been hard and some of it is due to circumstances beyond your control. But hang in there. Remember what he told you when you eloped? That he would always try to do his best. He has tried. He reminded you of that a while ago. Remember the ice storm and the dinner by the wood stove?”

  “You were there?” she asked Kathy. “I’m always with you, Sophie.” Looking back towards the Bay of Naples for a second, Sophie turned to say something else to Kathy, but she was gone.

  SUMMER WEDDINGS PART TWO

  A BACKYARD WEDDING

  The bus from New York pulled into Boston's South Station at four p.m. He called when she was traveling through Connecticut to tell her he caught lots of striped bass and would like to cook Katie and her dinner. When she texted Katie, she said she would be home by six thirty. She couldn’t wait for the two of them to meet each other.

  She tried to look at her reflection in the scratched, dirty bus window. Did she really look that awful or was it the window? She fluffed up her hair, which was flat from resting her head against her backpack while she slept. She pulled out a small mirror and some makeup and touched up her eyes, then rummaged through her bag and found some rosy lip gloss. Oh well.

  Walking out onto Atlantic Avenue, she spotted his car along the sidewalk. Her heart started pounding and her legs wobbled as she approached the Taurus. Her stomach felt queasy. He looked like he might be sleeping. Multi-colored Mardi Gras beads hung from his rearview mirror. She leaned in the open window on the passenger side and quietly asked, “Hey, are you asleep?”

  He moaned softly, stretching his arms out, cracking his knuckles then rubbing his hands over his face and through his wavy hair. He turned towards her, bumping his knee on the steering wheel. “Ooooww.” He squinted with a puzzled look on his face. As he leaned over the passenger seat, he broke into a huge smile. “Why, it’s you.” He made a funny face, like he was doing a double take. “Or is it?”

  “Were you expecting someone else? And do you really know the lines to every movie you’ve ever seen?” She smiled shyly.

  “Only the ones I’ve watched a few times. I’m really better with the mafia movie dialogue. It’s just, I was asleep, and when I woke up I thought I was Gregory Peck waiting outside a bus station in Rome and all of a sudden, Audrey Hepburn popped her head in my car.”

  “What do you think?” She was still a little nervous, not knowing what he really thought of her haircut.

  Trying to sound more like Peck, he said, “I like it,” then paused for dramatic effect. “A lot.”

  “Stop it,” she laughed. “Honestly?”

  He chuckled, reached over to the door handle and pushed the door open. “Get in here, gorgeous, I need to smother you with kisses.” She opened the door, passing him her bags, which he tossed in the back seat as she hopped in the car. He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her and slid his hand up her neck, exploring the short hairs at her nape. “Turn around, I’ve gotta get a look at this.“ She shook her head and distracted him by kissing him some more. “You survived the weekend, I see. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  “I missed you so, so much. I was lonely without you.”

  “I missed you, too.” He was kissing her neck, running his hands through her new hair. “God, you’re adorable. Hey, can I hear you say that French thing you texted me?”

  She whispered in his ear, “Je t’adore” as a car honked its horn. He continued to kiss her for a few minutes more, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her very essence as she buried her face in his soft, thick hair that smelled like springtime. He slowly moved his hand up her skirt, pulled her panties down, slipping his fingers inside her, stroking her as she rocked back and forth. Then he slowly sat up, ignoring the irate driver waiting for his parking space. Smiling contentedly, he put the car in drive and merged into the traffic.

  When they got upstairs to her apartment, it was only five o’clock. He put the cooler of fish on the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around her waist. “An hour and a half ‘til Katie gets back. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Because I really need to see you with your clothes off.”

  “Well then, let’s not waste any time. Come with me.” She took his hand and led him to her room.

  * * *

  The three of them had a great time making dinner. He grilled the fish and she made a salad of baby spinach, sliced pears, cranberries, walnuts and goat cheese. “See, I’m learning to cook. I invented this salad myself.”

  He laughed and rolled his eyes. “I don
’t think making salad counts as cooking, although this salad is award winning, restaurant quality. The best salad I've ever had.”

  Katie contributed a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies. He and Katie hit it off right away and she told him all sorts of funny stories of their childhood in Vermont, such as the time they ran away after one of the bad haircuts with only a grocery bag of Oreo cookies. They lasted a couple of hours hiding out behind Katie’s garage but when the Oreo’s were gone, they decided to go back home. No one came looking for them.

  “Some boys in our neighborhood had a tree house and we were constantly sneaking up there when we knew they were at baseball practice.”

  “My sister Ava and her friends would do that too. They’d bring dolls and play house. I would get my mother’s Lysol and wash the place as if it were contaminated. We made Keep Out signs and No Girls Allowed, but it didn’t work.” He told them a story about the time he tried to protect the entire neighborhood from a huge underground hornet’s nest. He dropped a giant rock on it, but the bees escaped before the rock landed and he was gang stung. His mother had to take him to the emergency room “You should have seen me. I was so swollen, I looked like a deformed monster.”

  After dinner, they took a walk to escape the hot apartment. Passing a CVS, he noticed fans were on sale and bought three, setting them up for cross ventilation when they returned home, some blowing into the apartment and others blowing out. It felt like air conditioning.

  “This is awesome.” Katie gave him a big hug. “I knew I was going to like you.”

  “Same here. We have a lot in common and most importantly, we both love this girl.” He grabbed her hand, pulled her close and kissed her. “She blushes very easily, doesn’t she? Do you remember when I met you on the train that night? When you tapped me on the knee while I was singing out loud, making a fool of myself?”