Jax looked up, a little surprised, a little bemused, a little nonchalant. “Oh. Hi, Louie.” She stood there with her wide portfolio bag slung from one shoulder, housekeys in hand.
“Uh.” The fool was back.
“I wasn’t expecting door service.” She smiled. Those lips.
“Yeah.”
She waited a beat. Nothing happened. “Mind if I come inside?”
Lou saw details. Jax didn’t pull back or look away. She kept her eyes, those eyes, on his. “Yeah. I mean no. I mean…” He opened the door wider.
Jax turned sideways to slide by with her portfolio. She checked the living room for signs of intelligent life, then looked back at Lou. She appeared at ease. No weird feelings at all.
“What’s going on, Louie?”
“Um, just visiting. Anne. Anne and Philip. They’re in the back yard.” Am I making sense? How is this so easy for her?
Jax set her things down. Lou held the door open for nobody.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“What?” He looked out the open doorway. “No, sorry.” He closed the door.
“It’s nice to see you. Can you visit for a minute? Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks. Yeah. Yeah I can visit. No, I don’t need anything.” She kicked me out last time. Why is she okay now?
Jax sat down on a couch and beckoned Lou. “Come sit with me.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Lou eased his way to the couch, buying time to think. He settled down, adjusted the cushion, changed his position. What in my boring life would possibly interest an angel? Or even an artist?
“Oh, you know. Just…” Say something! “…saving the world.” Crap. Too much?
She chuckled with a softness that put a calm on Lou, then reached over and touched his shoulder. “I mean it. What have you been doing? I want to know.”
“Actually…” Lou returned to earth, found his voice. “…I’ve been busy with the Apollo Decommissioning Alliance.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I sort of manage the office. Several of us do. Not just me. Mainly, I’ve worked out better ways to schedule and communicate. Designed a filing system. It’s really a group effort. I’m just at the office a lot, so I spot hang-ups and make proposals. Sometimes, don’t tell anyone, I don’t actually make a proposal. I just do what I think is best.”
“These are things you’ve done before?”
“Not really. It’s not that hard. And now I’m supposed to research the site where Apollo is. To see if there’s any danger of earthquakes, or landslides, or floods, or whatever.”
“You know about those things?”
“Well, not yet. That’s why I came by tonight. To ask Philip how to get started. Then I’ll work it out.”
“How can you just work it out? Don’t you have to learn it first? Have someone teach you?”
“Hell, no. That’s the last thing I want. I’m better off without some teacher telling me what to do.” He grimaced at the thought and now saw that she was gazing at him, quiet, eyes wide, mouth barely open. He stopped talking. What did he do now? Did he say something wrong again? “What?”
“Nothing. I don’t know anyone who does things that way. Without someone showing you how.”
There was an obvious shift, obvious even to Lou, in the way Jax looked at him. Like he was, what…odd? Special? He pictured himself through her eyes, and what he found was a better man than he expected. Such a strange sensation. He didn’t know what this feeling was, or what to do with it.
Lou shrugged with innocence. “It’s no big deal. I just figure things out as I go.”
It was Jax who was still now, except for the one fingertip she held to her teeth.
“That’s how I repair typewriters. I see how they’re supposed to work, and, you know, fix ‘em.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” said Lou.
“It’s okay if you don’t, but do you know how to fix sewing machines?”
“I’ve done a couple. It depends on the problem.”
“Do you think you could help me with mine?”
“Sure. I can try.”
“Just, like, when you have time. Like on a weekend.”
Lou nodded. They sat by each other, not needing to speak. This was different. It was nice. Lou was so grateful for this moment of ease. A passing thought, I should leave now. Say goodnight to Jax.
“Oh, I was wondering.” Careful, Lou. “I wanted to ask you.” Don’t screw this up. “Your name, ‘Jax.’ Is that short for Jacqueline?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“It’s just Jax.”
“Your parents named you Jax?”
“It’s just my name.”
“Yeah, it’s cool. I wondered—”
“Stop asking me.” Jax stood up from the couch.
“I was only curious—”
“Why do you ask all these questions? I’m just Jax.” She turned her back on him.
Lou got up, flustered by the radical change in mood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Sorry.”
“I’m going upstairs. I have things to do.”
“Okay. Yeah.” What happened this time? “So maybe see you later? About the sewing machine?”
“Maybe,” Jax mumbled. She went upstairs without a goodbye.
Lou was left alone with his taxing, tangled thoughts. He had been cruising on the edge of perfection. Now he was in the muck of despair. He trudged out the door, down those damn brick steps, and into the lonely night.
Ouch. I was married to a woman like Jax, with big mood swings and me never knowing if I offended her delicate ego and sensibilities. Poor Lou!