Livie and Jason - an exerpt

By the time she reached Magnolia and Sims, the rain seemed to be letting up.  Given the fervor with which it had been coming down, "letting up" was definitely a relative term, but Livie felt a sense of relief anyway.  If nothing else, the wind had died down, and rain was no longer pelting her in the face. 

She was adjusting her umbrella, trying to maximize the coverage, when her cell phone rang.  Oh, crap.  She contemplated letting it go to voice-mail again, but Jason would start to worry if he didn't get through to her soon.  Besides, he had a big presentation in the morning.  Even with the time difference, he was probably ready for crash.  She flipped her phone open.

"Hi there."  She tried to sound like she had been sitting at home waiting for his call.  She hadn't mentioned her plans this morning over breakfast, and telling him now would just wreck his concentration.  This was an important trip for him, and he needed to have his head in the game.

"Hey, babe!"  She could hear the smile in his voice.  "I finally got you.  Where've you been all night?  I've called, like, 3 times.  I was starting to worry."

"I guess I've had my phone on mute.  Sorry."  The lie rolled off her tongue with disturbing ease.  "How was your trip?"

"Smooth and uneventful, just like I like it.  Except that I had to sit next to Farty Jim for the second leg.  Ugh.  That man needs to see a doctor."  Jason laughed.  "It wasn't so bad though.  Did you know he's started brewing his own beer?  He invited us over for dinner in a couple of weeks when this batch is all ready."

It was just like Jason to become friends with the ugly duckling of the office.  Misfits and strays, in both animal and human form, were drawn to him as if by magnets.  He had no idea why, but Livie understood.  She'd been drawn to it herself, hadn't she?  Jason had an air of patience and understanding about him that appealed to those creatures that had faced primarily ridicule and rejection in their lives.  Although he had a wickedly sarcastic sense of humor, he was unfailingly kind.  He had a way of teasing that made you feel included instead of ostrasized.  No doubt, "Farty Jim" knew about and embraced his new nickname with the same good humor with which it had been bestowed.  That's just how things worked around Jason.

"Sounds like a plan," Livie said.  "Just let me know when so I can put it on the calendar."

"Sure thing, Liver."  Her heart twinged a little at the carefree affection in his voice.  "So what's happening with you?"

Her mouth and ears continued the conversation with him, sharing anecdotes about the cat and listening to more in depth descriptions of his trip, participating in the kind of rambling, aimless conversation that couples so often have with one another. Her mind, however, was busy chastising her for getting herself into this situation.

It wasn't that she was unhappy.  Her life with Jason was almost exactly what she had hoped it would be.  They had been married for nearly 10 years now, and they still held hands whenever they walked next to each other.  They rarely argued, although financial discussions tended to get tense.  They were still intensely interested in each other and could talk about a great number of subjects at length: politics, religion, current events, daily life, sex, aspirations, family, and so on.  As a child, dreaming about married life, these were the yardsticks against which she had measured her visions. 

"Guess what I did during the lay-over in Chicago."  Jason's challenge broke through her thoughts.

"I bet you headed to that hot dog place, Big Dogs, as soon as you got off the plane and had yourself a foot long with everything on it," Livie replied with certainty.  He wouldn't have set foot in the Chicago airport at lunchtime without including Big Dogs in his plans.

Jason laughed in affirmative.  "You know me too well, darlin'.  You know me too well."

Perhaps that was the problem.  Everything was just exactly what she expected.  After college, her life had followed a well-delineated path, like a train on railroad tracks that may curve this way or that slightly but never sharply enough to upset the engine.  After a decade of travel, these tracks had become too predictable.  The weeks came and went with numbing regularity.  The alarm woke her to the same worn comforter and pale walls each morning.  Her closet held the same clothes and the cat made the same demanding cries for food.  Each day brought its own combination of the same chores she'd been doing for years, dishes needing washing, laundry needing folding, floor needing sweeping.  Even the volunteer work she had taken on to fill her days had become predictable.

"So then, the head guy, he says 'Well, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible.'  As if the rest of us were just sitting around on our thumbs, you know?"  Livie could tell by Jason's tone that he was twisting the top of the hotel bedspread into little volcano shapes in front of him.

"Did you spit in his eye?" she asked, knowing that it would make him laugh.  The rain had nearly stopped now.  She stuck out a hand and watched the drops roll across her palm.

"Almost," he chuckled.  "Almost.  I did ask him exactly which part of the evaluation process he wanted me to skip in order to make the new deadline.  That brought him up short."

Jason's schedule might change from month to month, but essentially he chugged through the same series of stations - observation, write up, presentation, follow up - for each company that hired him.  He could be counted on to send a postcard from each city he visited.  The majority of the time she could guess what was written on the back just by looking at the picture.  It was a form of finishing each other's sentences (which they also did on a regular basis), she supposed.  After years of shared experiences, she had grown to anticipate his jokes and references.  She recognized the twists and turns of his mind almost as well as she did her own.  For example, she could hear in his voice that he was winding down, reaching the edge of his energy reserves.

"Well, it sounds like you've had quite the day," Livie said.  "You should probably get some rest, so you're ready to go to battle again tomorrow."

"You didn't tell me about your day," Jason countered.  "Tell me you didn't waste away from loneliness all day."

This was her opportunity to come clean.  She could just tell him about the phone call she had received and they could both have a good laugh over what Harold had suggested.  Talking about it, bringing the evening's events out into the light, would disperse the mystery.  Her current plan of action, so exhilarating up to now, would be revealed for the foolishness that it really was, and she could head for home (stopping for a pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food on the way).  She could return to the comfortable cocoon that was her life.

"Oh, I didn't do anything but lounge by the phone, pining for you, my dear," she said.  "And I'll do nothing but the same until you call me tomorrow night."  After a few brief expressions of love, they both hung up. 

She didn't want to be a caterpillar, safe in a cocoon, trusting that each day would be just as boring and predictable as the last.  She wanted to do something shocking and dangerous.  She wanted to feel adrenaline in her veins.  She stepped out of the doorway that had sheltered her though her phone call, and resumed her journey along Magnolia Street.  Thunder growled menacingly as the rain began to come down in earnest again.