Then the mattress shifted as he rolled away and stood. He unzipped his jeans, and his belt buckle hit the floor with a clink. I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and Chris’s body covered mine. He raised himself on his forearms and looked into my eyes when he entered me, his breathing as ragged as mine had been; we fit together perfectly. And after he came, when he was holding me in his arms, he whispered, “Claire Jones. I am falling in love with you.”
Nine months later he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife, and six months after that we stood up in front of our friends and family and promised to love and obey and cherish each other for as long as we both shall live.
I turn my focus back to the present when I realize the previews have ended and the main feature has started. I focus on the film and lose myself in the romantic comedy. It isn’t so bad seeing a movie alone. I even manage to laugh spontaneously a few times.
When the lights go up I stand and follow the couples out of the theater and drive home, suddenly feeling very alone.
10
chris
I throw my key card on the dresser of my hotel room, shrug out of my suit jacket, and sink into a chair. I have a headache because I skipped lunch, and my voice is hoarse from talking all day.
I’ve discovered that my boss, Jim, is a giant asshole. He has two sides: the one I saw during the endless rounds of interviews they put me through for this job, and the side he shows his sales managers when he doesn’t think they’re performing up to standards. The other day I watched him tear my counterpart to shreds in front of a packed conference room of his peers. He was condescending, short-tempered, and rude. It’s unsettling, working for him. Like he could flick a switch and morph into that other guy on a dime if there’s a hint of failure on my part. I’m grateful to be employed, so I don’t even like having these thoughts; I’d never say them out loud to anyone. Not even Claire.
I’ve been with the company for two months, and I’ve closed every deal they’ve given me to close. I spend hours entering information into spreadsheets, to justify and quantify what I’m doing, and still it isn’t enough. As soon as I meet my goal, it changes. Gets bigger. I’m expected to do the job of two people because the lingering effects of the recession require that companies operate as lean as they can. I get that, and I’d much rather be here in this hotel room in Denver, employed, than be without a job. Actually, I’d rather be employed and at home with my family, but it didn’t work out that way.
I loosen my tie, turn on my laptop, and get to work.
11
claire
I walk into Elisa’s house on the Fourth of July and find her in the kitchen talking on the phone. She motions toward the refrigerator. There’s a pitcher of iced tea, so I grab a glass from the cupboard and help myself. I take a drink. It’s icy cold with a hint of lemon, just the way I like it.
When Elisa hangs up she says, “Claire! You look so pretty.” She takes in my white sleeveless top and knee-length, flowing white skirt and sandals. As soon as I’m reunited with my children I’ll be wearing parade dirt and sticky handprints, but for now I’m pristine. I got my hair blown out this afternoon when I went in for a trim, and it lays shiny and straight to the middle of my back. A floppy, wide-brimmed sun hat and an armful of silver bangles complete my outfit.
“Thanks,” I say. “I felt like mixing it up a bit.” What will probably happen is that I’ll be back in shorts and a tank top by tomorrow, but it’s been a long time since I was even remotely dressed up, so here I am.
I take another sip of tea and sit down on a bar stool. The kids are marching in our town’s yearly Fourth of July parade, Josh and Travis with their Cub Scout troop, and Jordan with her dance studio. Chris is home for the holiday and he and Skip volunteered to drop off the kids and will follow the
Nine months later he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife, and six months after that we stood up in front of our friends and family and promised to love and obey and cherish each other for as long as we both shall live.
I turn my focus back to the present when I realize the previews have ended and the main feature has started. I focus on the film and lose myself in the romantic comedy. It isn’t so bad seeing a movie alone. I even manage to laugh spontaneously a few times.
When the lights go up I stand and follow the couples out of the theater and drive home, suddenly feeling very alone.
10
chris
I throw my key card on the dresser of my hotel room, shrug out of my suit jacket, and sink into a chair. I have a headache because I skipped lunch, and my voice is hoarse from talking all day.
I’ve discovered that my boss, Jim, is a giant asshole. He has two sides: the one I saw during the endless rounds of interviews they put me through for this job, and the side he shows his sales managers when he doesn’t think they’re performing up to standards. The other day I watched him tear my counterpart to shreds in front of a packed conference room of his peers. He was condescending, short-tempered, and rude. It’s unsettling, working for him. Like he could flick a switch and morph into that other guy on a dime if there’s a hint of failure on my part. I’m grateful to be employed, so I don’t even like having these thoughts; I’d never say them out loud to anyone. Not even Claire.
I’ve been with the company for two months, and I’ve closed every deal they’ve given me to close. I spend hours entering information into spreadsheets, to justify and quantify what I’m doing, and still it isn’t enough. As soon as I meet my goal, it changes. Gets bigger. I’m expected to do the job of two people because the lingering effects of the recession require that companies operate as lean as they can. I get that, and I’d much rather be here in this hotel room in Denver, employed, than be without a job. Actually, I’d rather be employed and at home with my family, but it didn’t work out that way.
I loosen my tie, turn on my laptop, and get to work.
11
claire
I walk into Elisa’s house on the Fourth of July and find her in the kitchen talking on the phone. She motions toward the refrigerator. There’s a pitcher of iced tea, so I grab a glass from the cupboard and help myself. I take a drink. It’s icy cold with a hint of lemon, just the way I like it.
When Elisa hangs up she says, “Claire! You look so pretty.” She takes in my white sleeveless top and knee-length, flowing white skirt and sandals. As soon as I’m reunited with my children I’ll be wearing parade dirt and sticky handprints, but for now I’m pristine. I got my hair blown out this afternoon when I went in for a trim, and it lays shiny and straight to the middle of my back. A floppy, wide-brimmed sun hat and an armful of silver bangles complete my outfit.
“Thanks,” I say. “I felt like mixing it up a bit.” What will probably happen is that I’ll be back in shorts and a tank top by tomorrow, but it’s been a long time since I was even remotely dressed up, so here I am.
I take another sip of tea and sit down on a bar stool. The kids are marching in our town’s yearly Fourth of July parade, Josh and Travis with their Cub Scout troop, and Jordan with her dance studio. Chris is home for the holiday and he and Skip volunteered to drop off the kids and will follow the
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