Work had been a bear. Lucille tossed her backpack, her purse, and her lunch box – still mostly full of food – onto the passenger’s side. Sitting back into the driver’s seat Lucille folded forward, wrapping her arms around the steering wheel. HR had decided that it was not their place to conduct exit interviews. Which, for all Lucille could figure, was at least thirty-three percent of the reason they existed. Payroll; labor law compliance; and employee recruiting, hiring, maintaining, and terminating. Lucille was fairly certain that was the point. But not at her job. Instead, they printed out the proper paperwork, gave her a time slot, and let her know that they would be there “to back her play.” As if it was Lucille’s wish to have to let someone go. Pushing her forehead forward into her arms. Lucille didn’t even want to start her car, let alone drive home.
It wasn’t that she minded letting someone go. Lucille had spent most of her career working her way up the ladder making tough calls along the way. It was mostly the timing. Leaving twenty-five minutes later than she was supposed to, was going to make her late.
Minutes passed… Lucille raised her head and looked at the highway in front of her. It would be easier, she thought. Just turn the car on, accelerate straight across. Lucille straightened out. Tension ran up her spine. Her hands began to shake. The raspy voice, dripping with weight echoed in her head. The voice wasn’t her own. Lucille buckled her seatbelt and threw her car into reverse.
The GPS announced through her car that there was heavy traffic ahead, and rerouted her to the back roads. She hadn’t remembered turning the GPS on. Lucille focused on the instructions as she called Jake.
“I was just starting to worry about you,” he said into the phone. “Are you just leaving now?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Lucille said, “the day got ahead of me. Meetings ran late, we finally let that poor kid go -”
“Is he the one who-”
“Yup, that’s him. I did his exit interview because our HR team is actually less productive than he was.”
“Well, technically Luce, he was probably more reproductive than -”
“Jake, gross. Even if you’re not wrong,” Lucille interrupted him. “Listen, all the highways are jammed up. I’m taking the back roads home. What time are you coming over?”
“Well, I’m already on my way,” Jake said.
“What?!”
“Don’t sound so surprised, we usually do 7:30, but I wanted to surprise you. Do something a little extra since I know it’s been a killer week for you.”
“And of course, I’m running late.” Lucille lightly punched her steering wheel. Annoyed at herself, a wave of relief washed over her that Jake would be home with her whenever she got there.
“It’s okay. I’m going to stop and grab coffee for us. I’ll even go to that overpriced rattrap you like so much. I’ll hang out in the car listening to the game until I see you pull in. Fair?”
“Thank you,” Lucille sighed.
“No problem. I love you, now let me go. The pregame is on,” Jake laughed.
“Bye,” Lucille said, ending the call.
Pulled in her parking lot 38 minutes later, Lucille had somehow shaved off five minutes from her trip. Probably the heels, she thought, as she kicked them off outside her bedroom door. Something about the angle of her foot in high shoes that drove her toes into the pedal. She wasn’t overly surprised when she didn’t see Jake’s car. He was notorious for being late, even when he planned on being early. Gave her more time to get ready, she figured. Hopefully, he was bringing dinner too. Not that she didn’t want to get out of the house, but at least if Jake was here she might be able to relax.
Lucille walked back out to her living room. The throw pillows were misshapen. The blanket was rumpled and wedged between the cushions. Two empty water bottles were poking out from under the coffee table. Lucille was grateful Jake hadn’t beaten her home. Still in her work clothes, Lucille hurried over to the couch and prepped it as much as possible to look like a couch and fluffed it as much as possible back into a place of lounging and not of sleep.
Looking at her quick cleanup Lucille nodded at a job well done and undid her skirt removing it. Gently folding it in half she added it to the growing pile of clothes on the back of her chaise. Reaching to a separate pile, this one on the arm, she grabbed her pajama shorts. Undoing each button one by one Lucille removed her top, followed by her bra. They too were added on top of the skirt. She looked around for her hoodie. It should have been to the left of her pajama pile. Lucille threw her head back.
Walking down the hallway, unconsciously veering to the wall opposite her bedroom door Lucille entered her bathroom. With a slight jump, she saw herself in the mirror. There her porcelain skin radiated in the reflection. Too startled to check herself out she reached behind the door – there hanging on the knob was her hoodie. Grabbing it, she hurried back into the living room.
Hearing the doorknob to her condo unlock, she saw her piles of clothing. “Shit,” she muttered. Moving as quickly as she could, Lucille ran over and pushed the clothes between the couch cushions. Throwing the decorative pillows in front, she hoped Jake would be as oblivious to her furniture as he usually was.
“Luce,” she heard Jake’s voice from around the corner. “I’m here. Want to come let me in?”
She hustled to her front door. The corner of a pizza box and the brim of Jake’s hat were poking in. “Sorry,” she said walking closer, “I didn’t realize I had thrown the chain in.” Lucille slid back the knob and released the door from the deadbolt chain she had installed weeks ago.
“I kind of forgot you even had it,” Jake said walking inside.
“Here, let me help,” Lucille said reaching for the pizza box and bringing it into the kitchen. “I’ll grab the paper plates if you want to grab the drinks?”
“Sounds good, babe,” Jake called from the couch. “I’m just putting my stuff down.”
Lucille placed the cardboard box on top of the stove. Walking over to her kitchen cabinet she grabbed four paper plates, two for each of them, and a bottle of crushed red pepper. The salt was already on the table. Placing their dining accoutrements onto the table she looked over to the living room where Jake was still sitting on the couch.
“You coming over, or what,” she shouted as she turned back toward the fridge.
“Yeah,” Jake said, his voice getting closer, “I’m just trying to figure out why there’re two pairs of socks being eaten by the couch.”
“Hmmm,” Lucille said. Reaching into the fridge Lucille tried to bite back her nervous laughter. “Does anyone ever really know where socks go or why everything seems to eat them,” she quipped as she returned to the table with a bottle of soda and a bottle of water.
“Guess not,” Jake said raising an eyebrow. Clapping the pair of blue and gold knee high socks against a pair of fuzzy dog-faced socks Jake mulled the mysterious life of socks. “Max has been known to nip a pair or two,” he said with a strained laugh. Lucille flashed a formal smile – her eyes like lasers on the socks.
“Silly cat,” Lucille said, her voice a strained whisper.
Silence drifted between them as Jake settled into his seat at the table and Lucille went to put slices on their plates. Jake studied Lucille from the table. Her eyebrows knit together, her nose crinkled as her mouth twitched. If she hadn’t been pulling cheesy slices apart, her fingers would have been twitching around like jumping beans. Jake knew that she was in deep conversation with herself. Crumpling up the socks, Jake threw them back onto the couch. Next time I’ll leave the fucking socks, he thought harshly.
Lucille turned around with two plates, topped with two slices each. Worry and annoyance traveled across the veins in Jake’s forehead. She had so badly wanted this to be a nice evening for them.
“Here,” she said quietly putting his plate in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said.
Lucille twisted off the top of the crushed red pepper flakes and shook it three times over each slice. Closing the lid she held it out to Jake. Nodding as it took it from her, he undid the cap and lightly sprinkled it over his two slices. Lucille sighed and reached for the salt.
“Just a little,” she said lightly waving the salt all over her plate.
Unsure of who she was speaking to, Lucille wrinkled her nose. Leaving her dietary commentary untouched, they both picked up a slice and began to eat. Tucking her legs up, folding them onto the chair, Lucille focused all of her attention on her pizza. Food usually made her happy, especially if it tasted good. She liked to look at each bite before she ate it. Planning out particularly yummy bites ahead of time. Sometimes, usually when she was alone, she got lost in it. Lucille closed her eyes unable to recall if they were eating extra cheese or pepperoni pizza.
“You there,” Jake said waving a hand over her plate.
“What, yeah, sorry,” Lucille sputtered. She opened her eyes, surprised to see greasy circles of hot pepperoni splayed across the cheese. Her stomach turned in knots.
“I was asking if you liked it,” Jake repeated.
“It’s great,” Lucille said. “Is it from a different place?”
“No, but there was a new pizza chef, so I figured I’d ask,” Jake explained. \“Cool, yeah, I like it,” Lucille said, putting down her slice.
“What’s wrong, Luce,” Jake said balling up his napkin.
“Nothing,” she blurted. Her shoulders jumping as she spoke.
“Clearly something is wrong,” Jake said.
“I like the pizza,” Lucille protested. Her voice matter of fact but bubbly.
“I know you do. This isn’t about the pizza. People don’t flinch over pizza.”
“I didn’t-”
“You did, Luce. Why are you still sleeping on the couch and not saying anything to me,” Jake said, his voice rising. His face throbbing with veins.
Lucille picked up her pizza and put it back down. Her throat tightened. A lump formed of saliva and pizza particles formed a growing knot in the center. She worried if she would be able to swallow. He was getting too loud. Too loud for her, “too loud,” she whispered, too loud for him.