I started to proofread, but... I hate that part. So, whatever/ On the way to his office at home, Jeremy stops by the kitchen to land a kiss somewhere on the face of his wife. Rushing along the short hallway leading to the second bedroom, he suddenly halts the the open door, and carefully walks inside. Two large boxes are waiting at the right side of the room, an area which on a normal day would be vacant. But he doesn't even acknowledge their presence. Not even the universally recognizable four characters printed on the side in blue, Dell, make an impression. Being as cautious as possible, he continues to walk toward the glass-topped desk which rests on the left side of the room. The only side of the room that has been put to any use. Near the left edge of the desk top, two rows of glass enamel paint containers are lined in parallel with the edge of the desk, while two paint brushes lie to the right of the paint resting on a torn piece of the weekly newspaper. But neither of these items receive any attention at the moment. What does receive attention is the chassis mounted on a disposable plastic cup. And attention it certainly needs.
During the occasional evening throughout the last several weeks, Jeremy has been constructing his dream car: the Audi TT Quattro. The roadster's interior, engine, and the exterior had been pieced together with much consideration for the details. The various engine components were painted to match the colors of the actual very much real vehicle. The same attention to detail was applied to the interior components. Jeremy went all out on the seats. By using a fine mesh, he was able to simulate the seating's fabric to an amazing realism. The exterior body was painted in a glossy royal blue. One of the remaining steps is one that always manages to give Jeremy a good trip. He has to accurately mount the wheel and tire units to the axle on the chassis.
More often than not, the wheels appear to be mounted perpendicular to the ground the vehicle rests on. But when turned at an odd angle, their misalignment stands out like a Latino playing Gulf. If the adhesive is allowed to dry while the weight of the chassis rests on wheels, the result resembles a futuristic flying car with retractable wheels. If the chassis is hoisted on its side while the wheels set, like a baby with feet needing alignment boots, they warp inwards. The most successful technique to this day has been to balance the chassis on a plastic cup open end down and letting the plastic cement dry while the wheels are attached with nothing under the rubber. The wheel job on the Audi looks astounding. No blunt misalignments or excessive adhesive residue. Mentally patting himself on the back, Jeremy steps back to take a distant look. Satisfied, he approaches the wheel work again for a second look. But he nearly falls over into it when wifie yells
food!
His wife Trisha -who prefers to be called Annie, an extended variation of her middle name-- is a petite curvaceous black woman. At only 4'-10", she's small enough to fit in a carry on and get a free ride wherever she dreams to go. But the once embarrassingly outgoing Annie was a victim of a vehicle collision and lost her year-old Ford Focus along with her ability to drive. Every bone in her frame remained untouched by the event, but what is often referred to as the soul was severely damaged. She withdrew from her well paying job as a claims adjuster and settled for a permanent lock down in their small but not yet overcrowded two-bedroom apartment. Which due to the income reduction, may soon become a one-bedroom. When asked of her occupation, Annie insists she's a housewife. But if one were to ask Jeremy the same question, if complete honesty were socially acceptable, he would announce that she's busy being the excellent wife she is. And even such a statement would not be genuinely honest.
Annie's vision of a housewife is defective. Her new life as a housewife revolves around the lives of Bo and Hope. Like many other viewers, Annie wonders if their love will survive. In other words, she hopes that they will get the opportunity to have loads of sex, because according to the tube, sex and love are indistinguishable. Which is why at the end of any given episode, Annie cries her glands desert dry. Jeremy and herself have been lacking in this department, which must mean he no longer loves her.
No one knows how it happened, but Jeremy and Annie developed an odd eating habit. He always eats at the small circular dinner table, and she eats standing up in the kitchen. When he does step in the kitchen its to either pickup a plastic plate with a mound of bland food or to drop off the empty dirty plate in the sink. Their foreheads have magnets affixed to them. This keeps their eyes from ever crossing paths. And this way, things in the Rogers' home have been for way too long.
~
The old Corolla is no Audi, but it has something no Audi --or any other car for that matter-- has: The old high school smell. The Corolla took him and an unlucky teenage blonde to the movies. Unlucky because she was under the spell of a bet, and was requested to score. The only problem standing in the way of the bet's execution was that at the moment, Jeremy, the nervous wreck, forgot he had a penis. Later beneficiaries were much luckier, and Jeremy quickly learned the good moves. The only other locations where he has whipped it out were in front of the mirror during his lonesome years prior to the Corolla, and at the apartment after he married Annie. Fate destined their honeymoon to occur in his Corolla because it broke down on the way to their reserved room. So Jeremy is not surprised when he gets a hard one as he drives in a car begging for retirement. But for the meantime, the car takes him where he needs to go. And on this particular evening, like most others, where he needs to go is Sharky's. A place where the pool balls have intellectual conversations, and the dear wretched Annie is not around.
As he parks the car directly in front of the entrance -which is an unusual benefit-- Jeremy instinctively switches off the head lights. But noting that he has seen something of interest, he immediately turns them back on, forgetting the action may be misinterpreted as an attention-demanding gesture. The object now flooded with light stares back with a hand over her brow, and after unsuccessfully making out an image, turns to face away from the light and walks inside. He knows her. Her name escapes him, but he knows her for sure. The way her head rests on her broad shoulders, her stocky hips and lightly muscular legs are distinctive. Such features are always distinctive when you know someone. Just as one may know who is watching from behind by taking note of the distinctive breathing pattern. He then realizes he's giving it too much thought, and aborts the search in his mental database of body figures, and leaves the car behind and heads for the door.
As Jeremy stretches his hand towards the door handle, the door comes to life and reaches out towards him. So he quickly backs off to the left and gets out of the way. A flashback immediately stabs his memory. A similar situation occurred about a year ago, and his failure to stand back quickly resulted in bloody nose and broken spectacles. Nowadays he wears eye contacts and has slowly begun to develop a sixth sense for dangerous doors. The nameless female walks out of the door and instinctively turns her head to see who is standing there. She simply nods and continues walking. But her mental database is quickly able to put a name to his eyes. She turns around and stares back, detaching her jaw in the process.
"Jeremy!"
Still not able to discover her name, he lamely replies, "Hey!"
"How are you? Gosh, I... I haven't seen you in forever! Gosh, how's everything?"
"Fine."
The gosh-girl is Wanda. A stocky and stunningly beautiful Mexican-American who was well known in high school for her perkiness and for obsessively using the word gosh because it was a sin against her religion to use the slang adverb God. She was found to talk to anything that had a mouth and even to things that didn't. To the hormone-driven males, it was their assumption that she was easy. As it turned out, she was easy in another fashion. Easy to misunderstand. When the bra strap pulling fad began early in the 9th grade fall semester, a boy at the time much to short for her pulled her strap. She said ouch and for a moment appeared to begin to cry. But sadness quickly morphed into rage and she slapped the boy in the face with enough force to not only leave a red impression on his face and knock him down on his side, but to make his mouth bleed. After that incident, only the occasional new student would approach her hoping for an easy catch. Another Sparky's regular steps outside and blocks her view, so when he moves away, she steps closer to Jeremy.
"So... what have you been up to?" she asks.
"Nothing really, just working and stuff. Trying to survive."
And to this statement they both laugh. It's not surprising they are both short of words. They never talked to each other much during high school. They don't know anything about each other, besides characteristics that are easy interpreted during normal interactions. But the strangest thing happens when high school is dumped in the can. It's one of those many things that are hard to express in a verbal or written format because of it's complexity. But if one word could describe the phenomena, it would likely by adulthood. And this adulthood has the ability to bring out qualities in one that were hidden during the years of clicks. One of these qualities is the ability to develop conversations out of the thin air. Often good ones.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." she replies, adding a little giggle to the end. "I just moved out and I had enough money, but my car broke down."
"Mine brakes down all the time. It broke down during my honeymoon."
"Ahh, that sucks." and then realized the honeymoon part, "oh, you got married?"
"Yeah, three years ago. Our anniversary is a few months away."
"That's neat. I haven't gotten that far yet, hehe." and as if talking to a child "Gosh, I need to do something about that!" and they both join in laughter. And the unavoidable question comes up.
"So, where did you guys meet?"
The question is not a bare to answer, but it does generate a bit too much googoo gaagaa. Regardless, Jeremy tells about his summer trip to France with his family, and how it was the family's second vacation in its entire lifetime and how overall it was interesting, and simultaneously boring. And then one evening, they ate at an authentic restaurant and he remembered thinking the waitress was pretty. He always mentions the fact his hormones were not working yet, so he didn't feel a connection at the moment, and it always gets a laugh. Of course, this fact is false. His hormones were fine, he just didn't understand them. And to make a long story short, they met back in college back in the states after she completed her high school foreign exchange program, and within three months they were married. It was actually five months, but for story-telling purposes, Jeremy considers his proposal the start of their marriage.
"Aaaah! That's so sweet."
And every time, he has not been able to determine the appropriate response, besides blushing. And every time, it reminds him of his love for his wife. Every single time.
"Gosh. I need a maaaannnn, that makes good money! Hehe," she says, and they lifts her right hand in a forget-what-I-just-said gesture. "It's just so hard to find a decent guy. Most guys are jerks."
"That's very true." Jeremy agrees. And he's honest about this fact. He himself is perfect proof.
"The day will come. Some day, hehe," and drastically changing the subject, "So, what do you do?"
"I work at BestBuy, fixing computers."
"Oh, that's cool. Gosh, I want a cool job like that. I work at Target, doing returns. Loads of fun, hehe!"
"Yeah, customers suck."
"Tell me about it! They always want what they can't have. I don't have too many problems now that I work at returns, but when I worked at the register, gosh. They can get annoying. Big time."
Trying to find a reasonable conclusion, "Yeah, it gives us something to do."
"Yeah," she agrees, "but I wish I could do something else."
"It takes time to get what you want. Well, some of it anyway."
"Yeah."
After the customary goodbyes, Wanda walked away to her car, and Jeremy just stood outside, momentarily stunned.
~
Annie is watching Entertainment Tonight as the deadbolt on their front door unlocks. Knowing who it is, she ignores it. And so what if it's a stranger who so happens to have a key to their apartment. If a stranger comes in and shoots her, it would be just fine. If a stranger comes in and attempts to rape her, no muscle in her body would resist, making it consensual and morally acceptable. But the distinctive jingle of keys discloses the intruder as her once loving husband. The keys do not continue to jingle as expected, and although the pregnancy of Katie Holmes is... entertaining -for lack of a better word--- something is just not right. So she slowly turns her head all the way around to take a look behind her. She eyes, moving even slower, follow the same course.
The keys being to jingle as he walks to the sofa she's sitting on, and their eyes meet for the first time in ages, and refuse of wonder elsewhere. He approaches her and stands between her and the television, blocking her view, though the television ceased to exist. She stares up at him, not knowing what to expect, and he stares down, unsure of what to do next. And a thought suddenly appears so vividly, he swears he can actually see the thought. What he sees in his mind, rather than realizes is that Annie's face sits directly in front of his genitals. This thought illustrates to him what he wants, and what needs to be done to get it. And in case the mind is in a state of confusion, the brain sends a message to the vessel down south to fill up the ballasts.
Jeremy cautiously gets to his needs and plants his face on her upper legs right above the knee, and begins to sob. Genuinely. Annie is not moved. Coldly, her eyes drift to the television, which is not visible.
Jeremy is not the same person Annie first met. Once a reserved, but occasionally adventurous man became a man who spends much of his time secluded in his world of perfection. Where things always work as they should, and cars always shine. Cars. Those stupid plastic model cars are more appealing to Jeremy than a set of breasts. She has tried. Many evenings she wore seductive attire while she cooked so that when he arrived home from work, he would become exited and do her. But he always came up with an excuse to go at it later, and later never came. Annie was under the impression men were always a notch away from becoming horny. That if you said the right words, or touched the right places, any man would immediately go bonkers and want to go at it. Either this is not true, or it's only half true. It's possible than all men would go bonkers if placed in the proper situation, but it may also be that, once a man reaches a particular age, they simply cease to respond to erotic stimulations. Or, it may simply be that Jeremy is an exception to the rule.
A sudden discomfort yanks Annie out of her thoughts, and brings her back to the living room sofa. What seems to be a childhood accident, is actually Jeremy's tears inching down through her shorts and steadily moving in. This is one of those situations where discomfort can bring happiness. Annie wants to. She's due for a good doing.
Annie places her hands on the sides of his chin and lifts up his head. Once at eye level, they close their eyes and begin to kiss passionately. The kiss refuses to come to a close continuing long enough to bring headaches due to the reduction of oxygen. When their mouths part, they smile their saliva-soaked lips, and stare with teary eyes. They now remember the most important thing. They love each other.
With a mission in mind, Annie leans forward, grabs the bottom of Jeremy's t-shirt, and yanks it upward, only it gets stuck at his shoulder. They laugh their heads of, and he finishes the job for her. In response, he yanks of her t-shirt right off, and admires the darkness of her skin. He approaches her face and kisses it all over. Once done, he begins to kiss her neck, and her breasts, and her belly, which tickles her to death. "Do me! Please, Jay, do me!" she yells, and this brings forth an idea.
~
During one of their dates, Jeremy and Annie almost did it. After a movie, on the way to her place, they stopped at a gas station to fill the tank. Jeremy was going to leave the car running while he ran the pump because the Corolla was so difficult to start. But as soon as he stopped at the tank, the car fell asleep. Miraculously, it started up again, but once on the road, it got the shivers and died once pulled of the road. The scenario struck up a conversation about bad cars. Annie had a junker while in France, Jeremy's dad had a truck that sometimes did not turn off, Annie's cousin had an automatic Mustang that did not let go of first gear until the RPMs were kept sky-high for roughly twenty seconds. And on and on it went. One thing led to the next, and before they new it, they were playing Strip Rock Paper Scissors in the back seat. They were both down to their undies, but laughter got a tight hold on them. Hers were pink with blue flowers and his were green ball huggers. But for an unknown reason, all they could do is laugh at each other's undies. And for the longest time, that's all they did. They were on the last round of the game, and who ever ended up nude, was the looser. Although they both knew that before retreating for the night, they each would end up not wearing anything at all.
The first try ended in a draw, which sent their hearts racing with anticipation. The second made Annie the winner. Jeremy, not particularly bummed out, got on his knees, and slapped his hands to his sides. "Here we go!" he had said, but at that moment, a police officer pulled off the road behind them, coming to the rescue.
Jeremy's idea was to recreate a similar situation. If he was going to give her head, and do her in well, he wanted to take it to the extreme. It was due time. Nude as a newborn, they ran down the well-lighted stairway of their apartment complex, got inside the Corolla, and drove off. As he drove, Annie gave Jeremy a rough handjob. And in return, he gave her a few breast squeezes when the driving permitted. Unsure of the exact destination, Annie decided for the both of them by pointing to the mall. "There's an unused lot at the old Wal-Mart," she had said, so that's where they drove.
In the back seat of the Corolla, they find various ways to show their love. Some things are in good fun, some erotic, and some peaceful. Each take their turn and each deserve to be acknowledged. The following day, they may eat dinner on the sofa next to each other, or at a good restaurant, or even completely separate from each other. And the day after that may be the same. But they love each other, and this fact is sure to never change.
