“Awesome. I called the realtor and she’s coming next weekend. Although you haven’t finished every little thing, she says we need to get the listing online now. The real estate market is improving and summer is the time to sell.”
“Okay, I’m ready, I’ve been looking at B&B’s on line.”
“I sent our resumés to that guy in St. John who was looking for a couple to run his inn.”
“It might not be a bad idea to run someone else’s place and see if we like it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
He stroked her cheek. “Honey, we’re gonna do it. Better days are coming. We will get you out of that cubicle.”
* * *
Tuesday night, Sophie took her daily route home from work. It was hot in the car when she got out of work so she rolled down the windows and turned the air conditioning on, put the volume up really loud and sang along to the radio. Passing the farm, she noticed the corn was getting high. She arrived home to find Ray already on the deck having a cocktail.
“Hey Soph, you want a drink? This raspberry lemonade you bought is great with vodka.”
“Sure.” She plopped down on a chair and gazed out at the river. They would miss this view, but maybe an ocean view was in their future? Or at least a short walk or bike ride to the beach? Ray handed her a tall drink. “Here you go. I’m going to grill that striped bass Miguel and I caught the other night after work.”
“Thanks. Hey, do you think you should move that ice shack out of here before the house goes on the market this week?”
“Nah, why? It’s a selling point, maybe the next guy who lives here will get into ice fishing, too.”
“Well it’s kind of unsightly. It’s called a shack for a reason.” She laughed.
“I’ll put it in the barn. It comes with the house.”
“Okay, okay.”
Ray pulled his chair close to Sophie’s and squinted towards the river. “It’s going to be a beautiful sunset. I’m going to miss this place, but twenty-five years is a long time and a lot of sweat equity. It’s time to cash in that equity and start the next chapter.”
Sophie raised her glass and clinked his. “I’ll drink to that. To the next chapter.” Ray smiled at her and winked. “Look Ray, the first star.”
“Make a wish. I will too.” Sophie stood up and found another star above the roof of the house. “Right there, Ray. Blow a second kiss.”
He stood up too, looking at the second star and blew a kiss. “Shh, no telling. We want it to come true.” He kissed her. “A third kiss for good measure.”
After dinner, Ray went upstairs while she cleaned the kitchen. She loved grilling. It made cleanup so much easier. She smiled thinking, "where we’re going we can grill all year."
Ray came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, you haven’t asked about the bathroom?” Turning to him, she said, “How did it go with the plumber?”
“Come on upstairs and see.”
Their brand new bathroom was lit only by candlelight. The claw foot tub was filled with bubbles and a bottle of champagne with two crystal flutes were set on a small table next to the tub. Dave Matthews was singing a familiar tune.
“Oh Ray, this is beautiful. You really do nice work.”
“I think we should use the tub every night until we leave.”
“Absolutely.” A live version of the song was playing, the saxophone sounding very sexy. Submerging themselves in the bubbles, they picked up the champagne flutes. Ray smiled at her and toasted, “To you and me.” Sophie smiled back at him. “You and me.”
* * *
A week later, pulling in the driveway past the For Sale sign, Sophie smiled. Several people called the realtor inquiring about the property and an open house was scheduled for Sunday. Exhausted, she cleaned every night after work, getting the house ready for prospective buyers. Tonight she worked late then stopped at Lynn’s for a drink. Ray was golfing. They would certainly miss their friends and family when they left, but the plan was to work nine months of the year and spend summers back in New England after a few years of saving. Saving? Could there possibly be enough money they could actually save some of it? It didn’t matter, they were moving on, moving forward.
She thought of the woman she met at the farmers market, the one who told her to be brave. Was she brave enough to make her dreams come true? Could she and Ray really start over? No fear, she reminded herself. Be brave.
Walking past the very clean rooms on the first floor, she loved the less cluttered look of the place, the furniture rearranged and extraneous knick-knacks and unnecessary things removed. Lynn helped her stage the rooms. Shutting the lights off as she passed through the house, she climbed the creaking stairs, so tired she didn’t even stop in the bathroom to brush her teeth, just dropped down on her bed and closing her eyes, fell asleep minutes after her head hit the pillow.
* * *
The dream began in black and white, which was unusual, as Sophie always dreamt in color. Through the lens of a camera, she watched herself sleeping on the bed. The camera zoomed out and left the bedroom, traveling down the stairs. It was dark in the hallway, a pale moon lighting the way. Panning through the living room, the camera turned towards the dining room past the farmer’s table. The door to the outside magically swung open.
It was daylight outside but the scene was still set in black and white. Sophie could see herself backing out of the garage. She watched the car pull out of the driveway, onto her street then out onto the highway. She lost sight of the Hyundai, the view in the dream moving further out, as if she were viewing everything from a low flying plane, the highway beneath her, following her usual route to the office.
At the farm she passed every workday, a burst of color appeared, everything still black and white except for bright yellow sunflowers swaying in the breeze. The picture was speeding up and quickly passed over the town she worked in and the building where her cubicle was. From this distance above it all, she could see the Atlantic Ocean was not far from her office.
Sophie felt like a bird flying above it all, the water a steely shade of blue gray, white caps appearing here and there. A seagull flew close by her side. Things started to speed up. She passed cities in the distance, a boardwalk with a Ferris wheel that had bright red seats that were the only pop of color in a black and white film unreeling before her mind’s eye. She sped past beaches with long stretches of sand.
Suddenly the water turned a beautiful cerulean shade of blue. She felt closer to the earth, her bird’s eye view zooming in. She was skimming along a beautiful tropical beach when everything burst into full color. Green palm trees lined the beach where brilliantly blue water gently lapped the powdery white sand. The water was so clean and clear she could see colorful fish swimming in the shallow depths. Multi-colored rowboats bobbed on the sea.
Walking the beach now, she looked out ahead to a small shack lined with colorful surfboards and sails. She entered a shady area a few yards back from the water’s edge where red and yellow bougainvillea bloomed. Behind a bar underneath a tiki hut, she saw Ray in a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt, shaking a silver cocktail mixer and talking to a couple sitting at the bar. His eyes were an amazing shade of blue and they twinkled like the first star in the night sky. He smiled the biggest, most charming smile ever directed at her. She blew him a kiss but kept going.
Walking through gardens with dozens of flowers in bloom, she approached a white gingerbread house, a sign swaying in the breeze. The First Star Inn. She climbed the stairs leading to a wrap around porch furnished with white wicker furniture, colorful cushions and hanging baskets with bright red flowers. She peeked inside. Sheer white curtains gently billowed and waved as a tropical breeze blew through the front room. She saw herself behind a desk near the window. She was wearing a coral sundress and had a white orchid tucked behind her ear. She was smiling.
“Hello, welcome to the islands. Do you have a reservation?”
THE END
ABOUT TH
E AUTHOR
Sheila Blanchette is also the author of Take Me Home, available on Amazon in mid-January 2014.
She is a contributor to the Huffington Post and a frequent blogger about life in her fifties.
Visit her blog: sheilablanchette.wordpress.com
Follow her on Twitter: @sheilablanchett
Email: [email protected]
She is currently at work on her third novel.
The Reverse Commute Page 29