It was hot. They carried themselves through the sharp thistles to the pond, where they smoked e-cigarettes and listened to the darkness.
He bored them with talk of the night birds: cuckoos, flycatchers, warblers, vireos, thrushes, orioles, sparrows. He lusted over their names; it indicated deep reading and paying attention to nature and stuff.
Later, the moon appeared, and the air cooled. Birds he couldn't name flew above. Bessler and Cora giggled and gossiped as the beautiful Marie stretched out on a still-warm rock. The seductive night was rackety and humming. He said nothing of the buzz of cicadas, crickets, and katydids. He cursed himself for not remembering their names. They heard trucks on the highway, which ruined everything, and Marie's mannequin movements were misplaced on the rock. They all stared, which made him feel accepted.
They manipulated each other to escape the tedium and false rhythm of the conference. Their hips contorted in Humanscale Liberty seats despite the elegant, intelligent counterbalance recline mechanism and form-sensing mesh. In the end, the chairs (they couldn't stop talking about the chairs) finally forfeited to the sinister sulfites they sprayed on the salads and the bowel-seizing Stumptown blend that was never quite hot enough.
He clicked on every slide. He kept them late, then wandered with Marie around the unconscious hotel like a doltish Afgan Hound. They all knew but said nothing but didn't resent Marie despite her beauty and duplicity.
On the last night, he brought her down to the moist pond; alone. Moon shadows stained the water yellow. They heard sirens from the slippery highway. He lied about divorce and how there wasn't enough money to go around. She believed him because it was easier. She'd done this all before. She knew it didn't matter. She had no real friends or family and didn't care what others thought. She did these things to feel alive; broken, and oozing.
Marie saved their text messages and scrolled through them when she was alone. The light blurbs communicated the quality service retail drudgery of it all; volume accounts, embarrassing photos, drunken emojis, and cheap summer midriffs.
The conference finally ended, and they all returned to their apartments and townhouses and split levels and tried to forgive and forget.
Marie kept on in the seclusion of her tilted condo in Four Points, and he remained burrowed in a managed community in Round Rock. In late fall, they began to quarrel.
He felt sick about letting her go but picked up Pickleball at Barton Creek, and his knees seemed okay, which helped a lot. He was lonely at first, but the kids played along, which was all he ever wanted from anyone. His wife kept busy with…
Marie found quality consulting work and decided to buy a Bright Blue Chevrolet Bolt EUV Premier 2LZ 4-Door FWD hatchback. She'd earned it. The insurance was pricey, but those new tax credits aided and encouraged her to do the right thing. She was finally ready for something new. The microdosing helped, but this new electric car permitted her to be an unbiased witness to herself. It would allow her to be more accepting and aware, open and curious and trusting, more apt to let go and be young and vibrant, to pay attention in a particular way, to be "on purpose" and present enough to continue to grow. Above all, she would be mindful and without judgment.
- “Is there an income limit on the EV tax credit?” Marie asked the cute curly-haired salesman as she pulled those delicious watery vapors from her teal Vuse.
- “I know, I know! It's complicated but intentional in all the right ways. If you give me a moment, I can explain everything," he said with an alluring smile.
Wow! She knew she'd made a conscious, deliberate, and correct choice. Was this what it meant to finally lay down one's burden? Either way, things were looking up.