Fuzzy Logic

by Susan C. Daffron

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  Jan looked down at the floor. The pattern on the Oriental rug seemed a little fuzzy. And maybe like it might be moving. Standing up would be a bad idea. Maybe she’d just sit here for a few minutes until the dizziness went away. She turned and looked at Michael again. “I think I have negative energy too. Why do I have negative energy? I think my chakras aren’t flowing right. My chakras are broken.”

  Michael smiled. “In my experience, your sacral chakra is doing just fine. I don’t know much about the other ones, but they’re probably okay, too.”

  Jan pushed his shoulder. “That’s all you think about, isn’t it? You’re such a guy. I’m having a serious, um. Well. It’s serious. I’m having a life crisis. Yes, that’s what it is. It’s an existential crisis. That’s what I’m having.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure what you mean, but...”

  Jan leaned back in the chair to get a better look at Michael. “Wow. What happened to your hair? It looks like your dad’s. Well, except not purple.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “You look different. Wait. Why do you look like your dad all of a sudden? Whoa. That’s wild. It’s like you got old. Actually, no. It’s icky. Yuck. It’s like I was sleeping with the same guy my mom was. Wow, that’s so gross. Ewww.”

  Michael furrowed his brows. “You don’t drink much, do you?”

  “I never drink. Ever. I’m a teeeeeetotaler. My mother says I’m too rigid and I never have any fun.” Jan bowed her head and stared at her hands in her lap. “I’m boring.”

  “You’re not boring. But I think maybe I should take you home.”

  Jan leaned her head on his shoulder. “I miss Rosa.”

  Michael helped her stand up. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Jan opened her eyes. She was lying in a bed in a darkened room. Somewhere. Where was she? After a bit of experimentation, she determined that if she moved her head, searing pain shot through her skull like a grenade. She tried to lie as still as possible and stared at the ceiling. What happened? What was she wearing? She padded her hands around her body gingerly. It seemed to be a soft cotton t-shirt. Wherever she was, there had better be a bathroom nearby. Her bladder was not going to take no for an answer much longer. She heard breathing nearby and carefully reached out an arm and determined she was not alone in the bed. Uh-oh.

  She turned her head and cringed at the pain, along with a new and horribly unpleasant nauseous twirling in her stomach. What had she done to herself?

  Trying to move very slowly and carefully, she crawled out of the bed and across the floor toward the bathroom. Given that Michael was the one asleep next to her, at least she knew where the bathroom was in his house. And it was mercifully close to the bedroom.

  After giving her poor long-suffering bladder a break, Jan was pretty sure she might throw up if she moved again. Returning to the bed was not an option. It was way too far away. But the tile floor was nice and cool. Pretty tile. Nice tile. Very nice.

  A few hours later, Jan opened her eyes and found Michael looking down at her. He crouched down and said, “Wow. This isn’t a pretty picture. Are you alive?”

  Jan rolled over on the tile. “Sort of.”

  “You might be more comfortable in the bed.”

  Jan groaned, “Can’t. Get. There.”

  Michael scooped her up, carefully laid her in the bed, and pulled the covers over her. “Are you going to be okay here for a few minutes?”

  Jan groaned and pulled the covers over her head. “Go away.”

  Much later, the bed moved and she peeked out of her sheet cave. Sun was streaming in the window and Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed. Southern California sun was bright. Ow. And it tasted like something had died in her mouth. She ran her tongue across her teeth. Gross.

  Michael touched her shoulder. “Are you going to live?

  A few feeble neurons fired. What day was it? Wednesday? A work day. She pushed the sheet down to her chin. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.”

  “I know that. Could you close the shade? That light is awful.”

  Michael stood up, closed the curtains, and returned to the bed. He stroked her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. “Can I get you anything?”

  The idea of food made her stomach do a few creative acrobatics. “No. Please no. I don’t think I’m ever going to eat again. Ever. And definitely not drink.”

  Michael smiled. “Yes, you give the term lightweight new meaning. Have you ever had alcohol before at all?”

  Jan rolled over. “Yes. But it tends to make me sick.”

  “So I noticed.”

  “You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here?”

  “Yes, I did. I live here, remember?” Swoosie trotted up to the bed, sniffed at Jan, and wrinkled her brow. “Swoosie says hi and I’m pretty sure she thinks you smell bad.”

  “Thanks. I feel the same way about you too, dog. And no, I mean why aren’t you at work?”

  Michael crawled onto the bed and stretched out next to her. He leaned back on a pillow with his arm behind his head. “Well, two reasons. One, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to die.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  “You’re welcome. And two, because yesterday afternoon, right before I had to leave to pick you up for the party, the indictment came down against my boss. This morning I went in and cleaned out my desk before they locked the doors. I’m on involuntary leave until further notice.”

  Jan tried to straighten up and clutched her head. “Ugh. I thought they already did an audit.”

  “My boss was arrested this morning. Now they have to figure out if any of the rest of us were involved.”

  Jan slumped down on the pillow. “Wow. You weren’t involved, right?”

  “No. Of course not. But I’ve been working for a criminal, which is depressing. I think everything will work out okay in the end. I’m not sure what is going to happen to the company, though.” He pointed at a newspaper on the nightstand. “There’s an article about it if you want to know the details.”

  “I’m not really up for reading anything.”

  Michael brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “You must feel bad. When the librarian doesn’t want to read, there’s something very wrong.”

  She pushed his hand away weakly and closed her eyes. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  “Maybe you want to sleep some more?”

  Curling her arm around the pillow, she mumbled, “Uh-huh” before rolling over and falling asleep. She had a series of bizarre dreams. Fleetwood Mac was playing a concert. And then Westley from The Princess Bride was there, talking about rodents of unusual size. But they were on a plane, which made no sense and led to a confusing dream about Edna, the lady who was in the seat next to her on the plane when she went to the wedding. The aisle was twisting and the plane was going down. What if she missed her connection? Wait. What flight was she on? Was there a connection? When was the flight? Her flight. The one she was supposed to be on at ten o’clock. Today.

  Jan opened her eyes and sat up and then cringed at the sudden movement. What time was it? She looked at the clock, which said 12:34. Ugh. Could this day get any worse?

  She reached over and looked at the newspaper article. At least she could find out where Michael worked now. Or used to work. Great. She skimmed the article and then staggered out of bed toward the bathroom. After splashing some cold water on her face and rinsing out her mouth, she determined that she was now able to at least walk to the kitchen. Michael was sitting at the table eating a sandwich and Swoosie had her head resting on his leg so she could studiously observe his movements.

  Michael looked up. “Good afternoon, sunshine. Nice t-shirt.”

  Jan waved weakly and sat down in the chair across from him with a groan. She looked down at the light blue shirt with a logo on the front. “Windows 95?”

  “I get a lot of free t-shirts. I thought you might yak on it.”


  “I’m sure Bill Gates is relieved that I’m feeling better.”

  “No doubt.”

  Jan put her elbows on the table and leaned her forehead on her palms. “I missed my flight. And I should go back to my motel. I was supposed to check out at eight.” She looked up at Michael. “What do you suppose they did with all my stuff when I didn’t show up?”

  “I don’t know. How about if I call the motel and ask while you take a shower. It would probably make you feel better.”

  “Thanks. By the way, where are my clothes?”

  “I left them on the dresser.”

  Jan shook her head slowly. “I didn’t see them there.”

  Michael got up and went to the bedroom. Jan followed him. “Here’s your skirt on the floor,” he said, holding it up. He looked at Swoosie. “What did you do with the rest?” Swoosie wagged and ran out of the room.

  Jan scowled. “Did she eat my underwear? I’m going to be annoyed if she did. That bra was expensive.”

  “She ate clothes and towels when she was a puppy, but she hasn’t eaten fabric in a while. Now she likes to sleep on it, instead.”

  “So my clothes are all covered in dog hair somewhere?”

  Michael pointed toward the back of the house. “Probably in the backyard. She likes to dig a hole and line it with fabric. Because you were asleep, I left the back door open so she could go outside without making a lot of noise. That may have been a mistake.”

  “Your dog missed her calling as a landscape designer. Can I borrow another t-shirt?” Jan pulled at the front of the one she was wearing. “I’m going to take my shower and I’d like to change out of this one.”

  “Sure. They’re in the dresser over there. Take your pick. I’ll go out back and see if I can find your underwear.”

  “That would be great.” Just great.

  After Jan had showered, dressed and brushed her teeth, she did feel better. No one needed to know that she had borrowed his toothbrush. Ick. Or that she was wearing an old pair of Michael’s boxer shorts under her skirt. Boxers certainly did provide a lot of ventilation.

  She went into the living room where Michael was hanging out with Swoosie and sagged down next to him on the sofa.

  He looked up from his book. “That’s an interesting fashion statement you’re making.”

  “I tried to shake it out, but my bra still feels crunchy. I’m trying not to think about it. In the process of redecorating the yard, your dog chewed a hole in my panties, so I borrowed a pair of your boxers.

  Michael grinned widely and reached over to lift a corner of her skirt. “I gotta see this.”

  She pushed his hand away. “No. I’m just glad your dog didn’t eat my belt, too. Did you call the motel?”

  “Yes. They have your things at the front desk, but they want you to go and pay them. There are no vacancies, so you have to check out, too. You can stay here if you like.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “We already had this conversation.”

  “But then you got drunk and told me you were boring.” A corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “If you want a little excitement, I have some ideas.”

  Jan leaned back on the sofa. “No doubt. I don’t think you’re paying attention to what I’m saying. We live hours away from each other. You’re attached to your job and like you said, you work long hours. There’s no way we could ever have any type of relationship. I just don’t want to get any more...involved than we already have.”

  He leaned back next to her on the sofa and turned her face toward him, cupping her chin with his hand. “Why is that such a bad thing? We don’t live that far apart. And we’ve already determined that we can have some seriously fun weekends.”

  Jan smiled and pulled his hand away from her face. “Yes. But I don’t want to be just another one of your weekend girlfriends.”

  Michael leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “So that’s it, then?”

  “Yes. I’ve thought about this a lot and it’s the only rational choice.”

  He turned to face her again, propping his head on his hand. “I hate rational choices. What’s wrong with a little irrationality? I know I don’t want to say goodbye to you again right now. And I hate having you here and feeling like I can’t touch you. How about if I make you a deal? We have one more weekend together.” He paused. “Although it’s Wednesday. But whatever. A last hurrah, if you want to call it that. You have to get back to work. I could drive you back, since it’s sort of my fault you missed your flight. Although for future reference, asking for alcohol when it makes you sick really isn’t a good idea.”

  “I know. That was stupid. I was upset. And by the way, Jell-O is the devil’s food.”

  “I’m not sure Jell-O counts as food.” He reached out to move a wayward curl of hair back behind her ear. “I could stand a vacation after not sleeping again because of the whole indictment thing. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since I left Alpine Grove, in fact. Maybe that’s why they call them sleepy little towns. Because you can sleep.” He leaned forward so their lips were almost touching and gazed into her eyes. “And I know you want to kiss me.”

  He brushed his lips lightly across hers. The sensation was electrifying. She should push him away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Warmth and relief and confused emotions swirled through her as she sank down into the sofa, reveling in the feel of his body on hers again. She’d missed this. Missed him.

  He pulled his head back and said, “So do we have a deal?”

  “Fine. You’re taking advantage of my weakened state. I’m going to get hurt again. I just know it. By the way, I think you might want move your elbow. I still feel sort of nauseated.”

  Michael moved away from her on the couch and then reached out to take one of her hands. He interlaced her fingers in his. “Maybe you should eat something. Some crackers, maybe?”

  She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t figure you out. You have been so nice to me today and you even scraped me up off the floor last night. But the other day, you just disappeared like I didn’t exist.”

  “I told you. I went to work.”

  “I know. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t like your job.”

  “But I don’t have to work today. A fact I’m trying not to think about, since I may be unemployed.” He stood up and stretched. “Are you going to be up for traveling today? Even if we left now, we’d get to Alpine Grove pretty late.”

  Jan groaned and curled her arms around her stomach. “Ugh. I need to call Jill. She’s going to kill me. I can’t face the idea of a moving car right now. I can’t imagine what would have happened if I’d tried to get on a plane.”

  “Nothing good. Maybe we should just walk down to the motel, get your stuff, and call it a day.”

  “As long as we walk very slowly.”

  He leaned over, put his hands on either side of her head, and kissed her again. “Deal.”

  Michael and Jan strolled hand in hand to the motel. Swoosie was with them, happily sniffing, panting, and smiling at the passersby.

  Michael looked down at Jan. “Are you feeling better? You look less green.”

  “Yes. Thank you for taking care of me when I was indisposed. That was not my finest hour.”

  Michael squeezed her hand as a show of solidarity. “Do you remember anything about last night?”

  “I remember the party. But not much after you handed me the drink.”

  “You said you were having an existential life crisis.”

  Jan shook her head. “I did not.” Did she? Maybe.

  “Then it was like in the movie E.T., where he finds the beer and gets drunk. You sucked down the drink, stumbled around, and tipped over.”

  “Nice. I’m sure my mother was very proud of me. Did you know, Steven Spielberg wrote most of that script when he was on location filming Raiders of the Lost Ark
? He wrote it during the breaks between filming.”

  “No, I didn’t know. I wonder how much beer he drank.”

  After picking up her clothes and paying off the motel, she and Michael had a relaxing afternoon hanging around his house. Not surprisingly, he had a vast movie collection and after dinner they watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

  When the movie ended, Jan was leaning on Michael with her back against his chest. He had his arms wrapped around her and she was enjoying being in the moment, trying not to think about the future. “I like that movie.” She turned to look up at him. “You seem to benefit from days off, too.”

  “I have been told that I work too much. I suppose I should stop and look around more often, like Ferris suggests.”

  “I always identified with his sister, Jeanie. Having to cover for him all the time. I had to do that for my mom.”

  “Does that mean I’m the guy in the police station she makes out with?”

  “Well Charlie Sheen is cute. But no. You’re Ferris. I can imagine you up on a parade float. You’d do that.”

  “Except I’d have my dog with me.” He pointed at Swoosie, who was upside-down, snoring on the floor, her paws curled against her chest. “Because you know I can’t leave her alone. I don’t think you’re Jeanie though. She’s too angry. You’re not wound that tight.”

  Jan giggled. “Maybe you should tell my mother that. She thinks I’m too rigid and that your aura is cloudy.”

  “That reminds me. I forgot to show you the picture I took of you.” Michael untangled himself from Jan and crossed the room. He returned with a package of photographs and began riffling through them. “Here it is.” He sat down and handed it to her. “This is how I see you.”

  Jan looked down at the photo. It was taken when they went on the horseback ride on the beach. Her hair was swirling around her face from the wind and she was obviously laughing. The late-afternoon lighting was stunning and there was a glow behind her reddish hair. “I had no idea you were such an amazing photographer. This doesn’t even look like me.”