That required a complicated explanation so Kache just shook his head and turned his attention to the television, but soon his mind looped back on Janie.
The other night after she’d left to hang out with friends, Kache had noticed a light glowing from the guestroom and went to investigate. Janie had left her computer on. Janie never left her computer on. She worked for the electric company and always not only turned off, but unplugged every appliance, light, and electronic gadget they owned. She’d been spending a lot of time on the computer, and Kache sometimes wondered if she’d found someone to love on the Internet. He understood why she might.
He should just turn the thing off. But the fact that he was even curious at all gave him a rare surge of energy, so he clicked the mouse and the screen filled with tan and cream and that teal color Janie always liked.
A banner across the top said, Happenings from our Happy Home—Welcome to My Blog.
His mom had kept journals with the commitment of keeping a religious commandment, but why anyone wanted to display a personal diary on the Internet confounded him. Below the banner, a living room basked in natural light flowing through huge windows flanked with curtains, which resembled the ones his mother had made of burlap. Now they were in style? She would have gotten a kick out of that.
Hello Bloggers!
This weekend, Mr. Happenings has big plans to build a used-brick patio for the Luau we’re having in a few weeks. (Can you say pig roast? Leis? Even Poi?) I have no idea where he gets his energy. It’s not like his job isn’t grueling enough!
Was Janie having an affair with a married man? Mr. Happenings?
But he insists he can Do-it-Himself, so who am I to argue?
Anyhoo, we’re off to a dinner party tonight with our dear friends.
It had to be an affair. Janie was in love with this woman’s husband. Why else would she read this? This was exactly the kind of perkiness she made fun of.
Hope y’all have happy happenings this weekend. Be sure to check in on Monday for photos of our new patio project. Knowing Mr. Happenings, it will be completely finished. (And I’ll be giving him one of my Swedish massages!)
Toodleloo,
Janie
Janie? Janie Who? He had never heard Janie once say toodleloo, or anyhoo, for that matter, not to mention the fact none of this had anything to do with their life.
Along the right side of the screen, a cartoon caricature with Janie’s dark long hair and brown eyes grinned at him.
Click here to read About Me:
Hi, I’m Janie. I’m an Alternative Energy Specialist.
Well, he supposed that was one way to say she worked in Collections for the Electric Company. She had studied modern dance and wanted to be a dancer just as he had wanted to be a musician; they shared a haunting sense of failure. Though they each bore it quietly, it was always there, as constant as the indented couch.
I’m married to Mr. Happenings, an accomplished musician and CFO who is my Renaissance man. Seriously. What can’t he do? We have two darling kids, who I call The Pumpkin and The Petunia, and, honestly? Most of the happenings at our home really are happy! We work hard and we play hard. Check back regularly to see our do-it-yourself projects, recipes, parenting tips, decorating, crafts, and hints on how to keep your marriage and family positively happy!
He needed to stop reading, to turn it off if he could find—
“Kache. What the—?” Janie stood in the doorway, clasping her high heels in each hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he told her, swiping the cursor toward the X, still trying to shut it down.
“Oh, it’s some work thing. I came back to turn it—Here, let me …”
“Janie.” He stood and reached out, took her shoe and held her hand, so tiny inside his mammoth one. “I’m sorry. But what is this? Some kind of alternate personality?”
Her face flushed and the pink splotch made its appearance, spreading down her neck. He felt bad, wished he had turned off the computer before she discovered what he’d discovered. “No, it’s not what you think, I’m no—I was just playing around.”
“Who’s Mr. Happenings? Is he supposed to be me? Or I guess the anti-me? My evil twin. Or I’d be the evil twin in this scenario, I guess.”
“No, no. It’s silly. I’m so embarrassed. It started out, I was … bored, you know?”
“Jesus. You had to make up an entire life? It’s that bad?”
She looked toward her toes, as if they might have an answer. “We could change that, Kache, if you’d try.”
Her shoulders slumped and a few tears hit her pearl polished toenails. He pulled her to him in a hug, Janie so short without her heels, and him so tall he had to practically fold himself in half to hold her. “I will. I’ll try harder.”
Her muffled voice, breathy against his arm, said, “You always say that but nothing changes. It’s such a lazy-ass cliché.”
He pulled back and looked at her. “Wait. You really give Swedish massages?” She didn’t smile. She didn’t even respond. He sighed. “I am a lazy ass.”
“You didn’t get all those promotions by being a lazy ass.”
“I got fired.”
“Laid off. Bought out. Restructuring. It’s different. You ran that place.”
“Hardly. I got lucky is all, but the gig’s up. No, Janie. When it comes to getting things done, I’m as competent as a clam. Hence, Mr. Happenings. My dad would love the guy.”
She stepped back. With her small tight fist, she punched him once firmly, squarely in his chest. “Your father has been dead twenty years. They all have been. Anniversaries are hard, I get that. But this has been going on forever. Kache, you didn’t die.”
She grabbed her shoe from him, pulled her heels back on. Balancing on one dancer’s leg then the other, she kept her eyes locked on his while he stood, hands in his pockets, the slight sensation of her punch already fading. Her bottom lip trembled.
Her words came loud and fast. “No. You know what? Forget it. We’re done. I hate that I wrote that creepy blog. Jesus, I need an actual life. Get the hell out and don’t come back.” She turned and slammed the door so loud the floor quaked. Her final shout came from the other side: “And WAKE THE FUCK UP!”
“You hear anything I say, my friend? Taking nap after one beer? You need me to drive you home?” Kache wasn’t sure what he’d told the man. Had he been speaking out loud? He hoped not. But the man was smiling at him again. Something about him reminded Kache of Denny. That warm familiarity. The ability to chat with anyone. Kache was so tired after staying up all night with the squatter woman, he wouldn’t mind having someone drive him home. But he needed to get over to the Old Folks’ and fill in Snag, see Lettie. He thanked the man for the beer and said he hoped to see him around.
The man called after him, “Next time I see you, your life will be better. You find beautiful woman! Not like me, you live happily ever after!”
Instead of packing up a few things to leave as she’d planned, Nadia followed her morning routine. The chickens and goats shared in her jittery nervousness, calling their questions while she fed them. Feeding and tending to them