Better with Age

(continued)

By John Woodington

"Anyway, I missed an order on some struts. I brought one along to show you which ones I need, cause I can't ever remember the confounded part numbers anymore."

"Maybe it is time for retirement," I said.

Ted glanced back at Nicole as we walked out the door to his truck. "If I had a beauty like that workin' for me, I'd gladly die with my boots on."

After half an hour with Ted, I came back into the office. Nicole stood up when I entered. "Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure," I said.

"Why did you hire me?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you hire me? You barely knew me and you offered me this job. Why?"

I shifted my feet. "Well, Nicole, you had good qualities, good references, and you seemed like a good person, so I thought I'd give you a chance."

"Were there other candidates for the position?"

I nodded. "A few."

"How old were they?"

I sighed. "What does this have to do with anything? Is this about what Ted said?"

Nicole crossed her arms beneath her breasts. I realized just how alone we were, but again I felt nothing, I felt the lack of something that I knew I should've felt, or would've felt in prior years.

"Just tell me that I earned this job," she said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Please, Mr. Barker, just tell me I earned it through my qualifications, and not for any other reason."

I didn't say anything for a moment, but then suddenly feared that she would storm out with the wrong impression. "Yes, of course," I said. "You were the most qualified for the position." Her stare remained frozen on me. "Why do you ask?"

She shook her head and let her arms fall. "I just wanted to know. That's all." She sat down again, and I went into my office and stared at the empty chair across the desk.

When I opened the door at home I smelled Janette's spaghetti sauce and figured she was having some girlfriends over for dinner. The bed I'd made for myself on the couch was gone, which was only to be expected. Janette would never let anyone know about our marital strife, nor would she leave any sign of it out in the open for the casual friend or passerby to notice. But when I walked through the entryway I saw only two place settings on the kitchen table. There was also a bottle of red wine, uncorked and breathing. Janette stood over the steaming stove, her hair up in a ponytail that made her look a decade younger, a white apron looped around her neck and waist.

"What's this about?"

Janette turned around and smiled at me, and I thought I'd flashed back to one of those great moments in our early years together, when smiles and longing looks were all we had for each other.

"It's Thursday," she said as she waved a wet wooden spoon in the air. "Spaghetti night."

"We haven't done that in years."

"I know," she said, and turned back to the boiling pot. "But we always loved it."

"We did, didn't we?"

She nodded. I changed into a fresh shirt and pants. When I came back into the kitchen, the food was on the table, the wine was poured, and two candles were lit. Janette was sitting, waiting for me.

"Isn't this nice?" she said.

"Just about perfect," I said.

"Just about?"

I held up a finger and circled back to the stereo. I found our old Sinatra record and put it on the turntable. The music crackled into the living room and the kitchen, and Janette smiled again.

"I'd completely forgotten," she said.

"So had I," I said.

I came back and sat across from her. "Why'd you do this?"

Janette shrugged. "We need this sort of thing. We have a marriage, so we should enjoy it."

"You didn't sound this way a few days ago."

Janette nodded. "I'm sorry for getting upset about your new secretary. It was juvenile of me. I know it doesn't mean anything."

I watched her for a moment, feeling I should come clean. "I didn't fire her," I said.

"Good," she said. "She didn't deserve to be fired. She's probably very good at what she does."

"She's all right," I said. "She's no Nancy, but she's all right."

"Nancy was your old secretary?"

I nodded. "But if Nancy catches you calling her old, she'll break your arm."

Janette laughed, and so did I.

All evening we talked about each other's lives. I was saddened by how much of my wife's life was a surprise to me. She exercised four days a week, though I didn't know she had a gym membership; she went shopping every Monday, though I didn't know she had a credit card; and she had a crush on Sean Connery, though I didn't know she went to the movies. If she'd said she loved her husband, I probably would've thought, just for a moment, that I didn't know she was married.