Jacuzzi for Two
This is a long one for me. I had in mind something a bit more wanton, and someday I may still manage to write that, but it seems the characters had other ideas. They took control of the story and did what characters have been doing for generations; they hijacked the story.
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I was up at dawn after too few hours of sleep. This is what a hangover feels like when you haven't been drinking. Today was the day and without ceremony I began to pack my bags. I was leaving. I was done. We were done. I'd had about as much of this as I could stand and we were calling it quits. Don't get me wrong; I'm not a quitter, but when you're done, you're done.
What's that you're asking? Divorce?! Hell no! I'm talking about work. We'd been on the road for five weeks, living in a hotel on the wrong coast, working day and night seven days a week without a break and we were done! The tests were successful. We had what we needed. It was time to go home.
About the time I finished packing, and as I contemplated making yet another cup of really bad hotel coffee, there was a knock on my door. The walk to the door was six steps and I had to drag myself there. It was Claire.
"Well hello, sleepyhead! You look like you died and forgot to fall down."
"How can you be so chipper in the morning? I feel like sleeping for a week."
"You can sleep when you're dead. Oops! Sorry. I need to show a little more respect for the recently departed." If you aren't used to hearing a forty-nine-year-old woman chuckle as she pokes you in the ribs, there isn't much you can do but smile and take it. That isn't fair. Plenty of women, both young and old, like to poke men whenever they get the chance. The thing about Claire is she hasn't got a mean bone in her body. She really is the definition of "laughing with you, not at you".
So long as I'm telling tales out of school, there are a few more things you should know about Claire. One is that at work she tends to be one of the guys. She's an engineer and a damn good one, but when she got into the profession women were few and very far between. Whether it was her nature or a conscious effort, she became one of the guys to fit in. She can dish it out and she can take it and there are a lot of men who don't respond to that kind of woman with romantic intentions. Show them some Barbie who gets confused tying her own shoes and they drool down the front of their shirt, but show them a smart woman who knows her own mind and they go running to momma. I suppose because of this, she is about as insecure in her personal life as she is secure in professional efforts. At least, that's my impression. She's always been direct and seemingly confident with me, but that may be partly because of who or what I am.
I'm not someone you push around, but I do believe that most of the time you can stand up for yourself without pushing the other person down. I try to practice respect for everyone I meet. Also, I will admit to being just a bit clueless at times. I like people, but they tend to surprise me a lot. I expect the worst from every situation, but I hope for the best from people. Does that make sense?
Anyway, back to the hotel. I stumbled back to my cases and Claire followed me into my room.
"Ah, James, there's something I need to tell you." I turned to look at her. "You don't just look like death, you smell like it, too!" She was smiling when she said it and there was a hint of apology on her face, but she wasn't kidding.
"We're due at the accelerator in thirty minutes."
"We can be late. It's bug out day. There's time. Why don't you take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes? I'll wait for you in the lobby and tell them we'll be a little late."
"I suppose we did work more than our share of shifts." I was starting to smell myself and that's not good.
"And brush your teeth while you're at it."
I flashed her a dirty look, but she had already turned and was walking to the door. "You sure you don't want to scrub my back for me?"
"I'm sure. Scrub your own back and wash your ass while you're at it, or you can get your own cab."
"That's cold, woman!" I'm fortunate she didn't turn around because I was doing everything I could not to laugh.
It took me twenty minutes to scrub, brush, and dress. I have to admit the shower made me feel alive again. Claire was right, not that I would ever admit it to her.
How do I describe our relationship? Is she a friend? She is more than that. Is she my work partner? No question there. Is she my work wife? No, I hate that term! What's more, she's never once given off anything like a sexual vibe. Is she my sister? I hope not. There have been times since my divorce when I was sorely tempted... I suppose you could say that after my parents and siblings, she is the person I trust most in life. That trust has been earned many times over and I hope she feels the same about me. She is a straight shooter, generous to a fault, sometimes overly defensive, and never throws anyone under the bus. Claire is the one thing that makes these long trips bearable.
Once I'd known Claire long enough and that mutual trust began to develop, I began to see behind the veil. That confidence she projects at work hides a real insecurity in personal matters. I've never asked, and I have no right to, but I don't think Claire would ever have described herself as attractive or sexy. At the same time, I've watched her with children and it's like the engineer just melts away and there's a warmth and patience. She stops being one of the guys. Small children find her irresistible and before long they're sitting on her lap and telling her their short life's story. A man could do a lot worse than her. That's one thing I knew for certain.
I was now wearing my last clean pair of clothes, and my bags were packed for the last time. I found Claire as I checked out and we grabbed a cab to the accelerator.
Yeah, that's another thing. We build devices that are designed to measure and perform in radioactive environments. That means we take them to accelerators, prove they work and try to break them. The end result is often a device that is "hot" as we say. Have you ever tried to bring radioactive hardware onto a plane? You won't do it twice. You'd be amazed how excited everyone becomes when the alarms go off, and then there are those long, unpleasant conversations in closed rooms. You miss your flight, and if you try to get cute someone sticks their gloved finger where fingers are meant to go and... You can avoid getting arrested if you have the necessary paperwork, but you won't be flying anytime soon. Like I said, it's a mistake you don't make twice.
You also need to know that there aren't a lot of accelerators in the country and they aren't interchangeable. Each has its own abilities and limitations. That's how it came to pass that a bunch of people who work on the East Coast were camped out on the West Coast for way too long.
We got through security at the accelerator, which isn't as serious as you might think, and Steve Perkins came over as we joined the effort to pack up the equipment. Steve was the Project Manager. "I've got a problem."
"What's new?"
"My parents got T-boned last night when they were driving home from their night out. Thankfully, dad was sober behind the wheel, but they got messed up pretty bad. They're both in the hospital."
"Oh, Steve, I'm so sorry!" Claire placed her hand on his arm as she said it.
"I appreciate that. The thing is I was going to drive the hot hardware home. Now, I really need to fly."
I should mention that the hot hardware is never overly radioactive and it's never a real threat to our health and safety. The problem is it doesn't take much to set off the alarms at the airport. The plan was to pack the hardware in "the hot box" with enough shielding to drive it home. That meant sitting in the same car with it for a week, so as you might imagine we take the question of shielding quite seriously. This time, it was mostly alpha particles and it doesn't take much to stop them.
"So, what's the plan?" I knew the answer before he said anything.
"I was hoping that one of you two might drive it back."
"Why us?" We said it in unison, like some English-speaking Greek chorus.
