“So why aren’t you taking them?” I asked and then cupped my hands back around my mouth. Don was predictably later than usual on this cold Sunday morning getting here with his damn keys.

“Well first off,” Jane puffed while pulling her hand out from under her armpit and raising a finger. “I can’t really afford them. The deductible is something like 400 bucks. I figure I would have to take a second job with at least 30 hours a week to pay for them. I think I would be more miserable working 70 hours a week even taking them.”

“Second, as hard as this may be for you to understand,” she lowered her eyebrows. “I do enjoy the occasional rare orgasm.”

“And why would I find that so hard to understand?” I grinned, but decided to let her continue rather than getting sidetracked by side effects.

“And third,” she paused. “Because I firmly believe pacification is not the same as happiness.”

She turned away and paced a few steps down the sidewalk before turning to face me.

“Jane,” I sighed and titled my head. “Do you really believe all that bullshit?”

“Is it bullshit?” She replied weakly almost unsure of her own words.

I tilted my head the other way, but didn’t change my expression.

“Really? Is it? Because, you know,” Jane shuffled her feet. “It’s… hard for me to tell sometimes.”

And yes, at that point Don finally pulled up in his grumbly old boat.

“Sorry, sorry, guys. Sorry. Hope you haven’t been here long. Bring me your timecards and I’ll sign them.” He said while fumbling with his keys and tossing them to me.

Not much later the lights were on and coffee was brewing. Jane and I were pulling off our coats in the break room.

I asked Jane again. “So then, really, why aren’t you taking them?”

She stuffed her bag into the locker and closed it gently.

“I don’t know,” she muttered.

Today I found a note that Jane had slid into my locker. For the past five weeks on Thursdays I’ve been working the closing shift. (We’re short handed once again.) Jane has Wednesday off and I have Tuesday off and so, well anyway sometimes we go a few days without working together.

The note was written in large loopy right leaning cursive upon a sheet of torn out of a spiral bound notebook. A few paper crumbs fell on my feet as I pulled it out. As always her penmanship was clean and very readable.

I had a bit of another “episode” yesterday at the grocery store.

How the hell did I turn out to be a person who has episodes? And why do they always happen at the grocery?

It happened when I was looking for some pasta for a “meal” I had all planned out. Only when I got to the noodle section there were no price tags on the shelf. In fact there were no price tags on anything in the entire isle. It was kind of weird.

Now I knew that there was a logical explanation for this. They were probably just putting some new tags out and had removed all the old ones first. Still…

Still…

It really freaked me out for some reason. Really.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to finish up my shopping, but I didn’t want just abandon what I’d already picked up. I just muttered and paced back and forth for a long time. Maybe like twenty minutes. What if someone saw me?

I’m not explaining this very well am I?

You know what, forget it, I’ll tell you about it later. I did end up having spaghetti for dinner though.

-Jane

At the bottom of the page was a sketch in pencil of a… hmm… number 2 pencil.

“Nifty” I said and folded the note into my pocket.