In Security

I'm Stan. Unless you're my ex-wife getting upset at me for not folding the towels outside-in-then-over. (Sigh) 

Stanley! 

As I pull the towels from the dryer - My ex-wife, Jane - two years ago left her hotel security management job, to start her own. Mostly banks, schools, grocery stores. She was working on landing a private detail for someone with real money, but I never did figure out who it was. So, I started taking over most of the house duties.

Jane shouts from her upstairs workspace. Anticipating that I would not fold the towels correctly, she schools from the her desk:

“Remember to be consistent. Each towel, fold them outside-in-then-over!”

(Sigh)

“Stanley - Laundry is important! A folded, clean towel, affects your mood each day” Then shortly after, she adds: 

“And Yes I heard you sigh!”

OK. So, that was the past, let’s move to the present. 

I’m on a skip-flight, a puddle-jumper to Portland. I’m meeting Scott, a good friend. I took the week off. My office can run on its own, I knew this but never tested it until this week. We have two fine Realtors and a committed staff. So when Scott text me - “Sure” I said. I need to get away. Honestly, we’ve been trying to connect over the years. Now that I’m on my own, why not. My office looked stunned, all their faces in surprise and a few, looking with and, it’s about time, expression. 

I have a widow seat. There is no one next to me. The flight is maybe a 3rd full. Time to relax. I put my head is against the cold glass. I like hearing the wind pass along the exterior of the plane.

The force of the wind…

It’s like life, really, the passing (it could kill you) wind, so fast, so ready to rip you apart, it’s mean, frigid, moving past you without regard or any notice of you. And me in my window seat, observing, not killed, not torn apart - safe?

Yeah, safe. So maybe that’s it. I’m getting away from work for awhile…I’m safe…as I drift into a dream…Safe, listening and completely feeling the outside cold wind ripping against the plane, safe…as I drift off…

…we’re newly married, Jane has a cantaloupe in her hands. Planted on her face is that smirk of mischief, which always perks—me-up, like a deer hearing a twig break in the distance…it’s that sort of hesitation when her lips assumes that expression. She is tossing the cantaloupe from hand-to-hand. 

“Catch it” She says.

“Jane? Why? What? And the cantaloupe is in the air, not directly to me, it’s way way up, so very high, like 20 feet or more.

Jane says - “Stanley - this is my heart, my life, my very being - falling toward you!”

The melon is now about five feet to my left, coming down fast!

I adjust, put myself in a good catch position, and bring it into a stop. The rough cantaloupe skin grinding deep marks into my palms.

“What the hell, Jane? What was that?” I say.

Jane turns, no emotion. The mischief smile fades. She walks into the sea. 

I wake up.

OK. So, Let’s progress to me in my window seat waking from the cantaloupe/Jane dream

And there…

In the seat next to me is an elegant woman, not there before, not even on the plane as I can recall…

She looks at me and says: “Stan” 

Not a question, but a statement - so, already I am at a disadvantage

Then looking back to her notebook as if I wasn’t there. I know she knows what is coming next as well. Looking at her notebook is purely mind-game 101, letting me digest that she has the advantage here.

“Yes? Stan” I am still fuzzing, waking up, best I could come up with.

“So. Where are you going? Stan” She returns to her notebook. She knows this as well, of course.

I say “Anywhere, they don’t throw cantaloupes”

She looks up at me and blinks, somewhat startled, but she recovers quickly. 

“What?” she says, frowning.

She taps her notebook, but remains aloof. Controlled. This is an odd turn of events to say the least. 

It feels as if my dream was more than a visit into the past, but perhaps a warning of the present. An odd turn.

She studies my silent reaction. “Oh. I must have missed something you said”

“Probably did, because I don’t remember what I said, just waking up” 

I reach out my hand to shake hers, maybe to change the awkwardness of the few past moments. And as it were to gain the upper-hand.

But she continues being awkward, simply staring and not saying anything. Things were not going as planned for her I would guess.

“So, you know me?” I say 

She studies my face and says: 

“Of Course” Then again tapping her notebook, as if to focus: 

“Stan, we are here because you need to follow me.”

“What?”

She flips a page in the notebook…

“Follow me, as we have a few things to go over, I mean”

“No” I say.

“Oh? You need to follow me to the limousine”

“You have a limousine?” I am looking around the plane. I know it’s not that funny, but still, no emotion from her.

“When we land, there will be a limousine.”

“That would be better” I say, then add” “But no thanks”

She opens the notebook, looks at some pages.

“This has been arranged by Scott, your friend”

“Scott?” My sarcastic tone, surprises and embarrasses me a little.

“That’s what it says to tell you” She turns to another page.

I say, “Seriously. A limousine?”

“Yes” She continues, “Provided by your friend, Scott”

“The guy lives day-to-day, never one with money. And he sends whoever you are and a limo to pick me up?”

“Yes, he wants you to…” looking at her notebook “It seems your friend Scott has come into some money”

We exit the plane without another word.

I seat myself into the back of the limo, the notebook women sits across from me.

“This has nothing to do with Scott, does it?” I say.

“No”

“Jane?” I say

“Yes. Jane, my boss, correct. Your Ex-wife”

“So, I assume her Security company, has advanced to - what is this? Kidnapping?”

She runs her hand over the notebook, as if understanding there is nothing within it that can help her answer the question. 

She continues to caress the notebook as if it holds magic to help her ad-lib the next bit of conversation.

“This is not. We have not taken you against your will. This was arranged” She says very quickly, then slowing down. Controlled.

I study her and think. Ah, I’ve got it.

“Against my will. Won’t Scott wonder where I am, not showing up and all”

She shifts in her seat and sets the notebook aside. As I continue -

“Scott, especially knowing my flight schedule, I did text him with my arrival time and all.

“Our company. Jane, of course you’ve put that together. We are not doing anything illegal, there is no hint of kidnapping, no forced or coerced activity if you follow the money. Scott was contacted and agreed to this meeting between you and our company, well Jane.”

(Sigh) “OK. I got it”

I sit back in plush limo seat to think. Why me? Nothing to do with our past. Must be something happening now. Jane was starting to work with the private security, deep money. I warned her against it. She kept me out of it. Could that be it? Probably. Ah, and then it made sense: real-estate. But she knows I would never cheat, even if it was somewhat legal. Ah, there it is again. The notebook lady, expressed covering the companies track, legally. So, they got that covered on their own. That leaves one other possibility. Some deep money has targeted the company, her. Maybe going after more than I could imagine.

The notebook lady is talking again, and I only get the last of it:

“…in short” she takes out her cell, “Jane is comfortable with you” she presses her thumb down on a button, “She knows how to work you - She knows how to Work, With you”

“Yes - Work me, you were right the first time” I look out the car window and say, “I may be a slow, but I’m not completely stupid”

The notebook lady she says into the phone: “we’re on our way, I didn’t get a chance to ask that. But, his phone is on the seat next to him.”

I close my eyes (Sigh) my his cell rings: Classic Foreigner circa 1977. Number 6 on Billboard 100.

The notebook lady fidgets in her seat: “Cold As Ice” the piano riff starts again “That’s ah - harsh” and she frowns.  

“Not what you think” I say, “It was the song playing when we first kissed, we both laughed as we realized that at the same time”

“Oh. So that song is romantic then? Cold As Ice?”

“You know her”

“Yes”

I answers the call:

Jane says - “Sorry Stanley, for throwing this cantaloupe so far out”

I say “No problem, I caught it”

(Sigh)

“I always do”

Jane is quiet. “Yes, you do”

The notebook lady is still frowning. Her notebook protecting her chest. She has knew information, can’t picture Jane being any bit romantic. The conflict in her face is apparent and amusing.

Jane says: “Yes. Yes, and you’ve caught on to everything today, quickly. So I’ll spell it out quickly as well and get to the point. I’m…”

“I figure you’re in some kind of trouble” I say, holding back the sigh, I so want to express.

And then, Jane answers with one word, that changes us forever

“Yes”

So. Here I am. 

Exposed to the full fast wind of life, my knuckles turning purple, holding onto the wing of my existence.

With Jane again in my life.

The notebook lady is still looking out the window, I say to the driver: 

“We need to step it up”

He shakes his head and the limo accelerates.

The notebook lady looks at me. I say to her: 

“Jane say’s we’re running a bit late”