Out of The Box Awakening
Read Out of The Box Awakening Online
Authors: Jennifer Theriot
By Jennifer Theriot
Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Theriot
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or personals living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Amazon Edition – November 2013
ASIN: B00CNX3MU2
...Through struggles we gain strength,
Through strength we become wise,
Change transcends into wisdom.
Love factors into the equation;
Don’t ask me why,
It just does.
“Good afternoon. This will be our first boarding call for United Airlines, Flight 1126 non-stop from Houston to Chicago O’Hare. We will be boarding very shortly, ladies and gentlemen, so please have your boarding pass ready.
OK –I can do this… Piece of cake, right?
Fifty-something years old and I just do not process change at all!
I am Olivia Petersen—fifty-seven years old, and suddenly thrown into a huge life-change. I’m moving to Chicago from Houston because my husband, Alan, has been transferred to his company’s corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago. After twenty-five years with them, they up and transfer him. I can honestly say I certainly didn’t see this coming. Geez! Isn’t this supposed to be the time in our lives, when we start to wind down?
Alan has been gone for eight weeks now, and I was left to pack up thirty years of my life—our life—lease our newly renovated home, and fly out to be with the man I married. Thank God the company was handling the logistics of getting our things from point A to point B. All I had to do was hop on a plane and take the nearly three-hour flight from Houston to Chicago. I have a direct flight, thank God, since I don’t fly much at all. My girlfriends are always going on trips - girls’ getaways to Vegas and the Bahamas - and I envy them so much. Alan never was big on me going on the girls’ trips. He never saw the need to fellowship with your girlfriends out of town, so I never pursued it—didn’t want to upset the apple cart. He was the breadwinner, so I was content with the occasional dinner and drinks with the girls in town, and home by ten.
Sitting in the airport, I find myself thinking of the strangest things while people-watching. Taking advantage of the fact that I’ve arrived at the airport plenty early, I’ve zoned in on all of the ladies who seem my age in the area, wondering just what kinds of lingerie they wear. Are they in granny panties? Bikinis? Thongs? None? Hehe! Completely random and silly thoughts. Thoughts most likely prompted by one of the changes I recently made. I forced myself to throw away every single pair of boring white cotton granny panties and white bras I owned, and promised myself I was going to change my overall attitude, spice up my life, and begin to feel better about myself. For me, that began with the lingerie, simple-minded as that may sound. I sought out the most age-appropriate bras and panties I could find—well, maybe not age appropriate, but definitely classy and sexy. I bought red, black, beige, gray, navy, leopard, zebra, and every other color I could find…bras and panties to match! Boy shorts, lace bikinis with a rhinestone on the belly.... You name it, I bought it!
I justified the change and expense as something I was entitled to. It was my attempt to feel better about myself – and maybe to renew my relationship with Alan. I went to Victoria’s Secret and carefully selected every chemise and robe set I could find. I quickly discovered that I love wearing nice things to bed, instead of my usual oversized University of Texas T-shirt and sweat pants. Why didn’t I discover this about thirty years sooner? I found that color-coordinated matching lingerie definitely makes a difference. I can say that it has made me feel better about myself.
Raising children, not working, and taking care of a household had made me somehow lose my identity. I wasn’t Olivia, I was Alan’s wife. I was Lainey, Dalton, and Bradley’s mom. I can’t even tell you what I truly enjoy anymore. Somehow “I” got lost in translation. Maybe this change will be good for Alan and me. The kids are grown and on their own, and the time has come for us to become a couple, a unit again. Hopefully that is still possible. I can only hold on to the hope. Hope that what I married that man for, and what our relationship was, can be rekindled.
Alan and I have definitely drifted apart over the years. I suspect this is status quo for a lot of couples our age. Having kids and being involved in their lives just takes away from the relationship part of a marriage. If you don’t conscientiously make an effort to keep the relationship going, it just sort of…well, it gets lost, and that’s exactly where Alan and I are. I’m not unhappy, I guess. I just feel that we’re at a stage in our lives where we should be more on the same page. Alan is not a big talker and is definitely not comfortable talking about our relationship. I’ve tried from time to time, but he dismisses me as over-thinking things, which I’ll be the first to admit I do. Sometimes, I just wish he were more attentive to my needs, and a bit more affectionate.
To prepare for the trip, I downloaded songs on my iPod to listen to on the plane. I also splurged and bought myself a pair of Beats headphones. Dalton has a pair and he says they are the absolute best. And nothing but the best for me, right? I love my music and listen to it all the time. Music’s an important part of my life. Matter of fact, I listen to music every single day. I fall asleep listening to music. I wake up to it. Music is always on at my house. It’s my stress outlet.
One of my favorite things to do is enjoy a good bottle of wine and listen to my music on the speakers Alan bought me for Valentine’s Day. He bought me a wonderful Bose system,
complete with a docking station for my phone. I absolutely love it, and it serves me well! Alan is not a dancer—never was and never will be—so I’ve resigned myself to the fact that my dancing will pretty much be done solo, with my girlfriends or with one of my kids at a wedding. I have this inherent love for dancing, so I am often found out on the deck Friday nights, dancing all by myself, transcending into a much younger Olivia.
I love all kinds of music—big band, sixties, soul, rock, alternative rock, and I hate to admit—I even like some of the rap. Not all of it, mind you, but some of it’s pretty good. Bradley, my son, was appalled when he pulled up some of my playlists. “David Guetta? Usher? Akon? Are you serious, Mom? Where did you hear about them?”
In addition to my vast collection of iTunes, which takes up an incredible amount of memory on my iPhone, I’ve learned how to do all of the popular line dances, which comes in very handy at parties and wedding receptions. My kids are always the first to come and get me when the one of the line dances is played. I feel like I’m a thirty-something-year-old at heart, living in the body of a fifty-seven-year-old. Geez! I don’t want to grow old, but unfortunately you can’t stop the process. Hard to come to terms with. Ahhhh, but it is what it is.
So, settled into my seat on the plane, I get out my Kindle, put on my headphones, and ready myself for this flight. I can do this, I keep repeating over and over. I wish to God that I didn’t dread change. I wish I were more adventurous and that I didn’t over-think things. I am dead-ass frightened about starting over, excited to see Alan again and hoping he will calm my fears about moving and make me feel secure. I desperately need that right now. The kids were all supportive of our move. Lainey, our daughter, said I should calm down and go with the flow.
Easier said than done. She is thirty and can easily process change. She always has. She is my rock—nothing rattles her and she forges full on into challenge and change. I have no idea where she got that. That attribute definitely didn’t come from me.
So many things pop into my mind. What to do first? Alan said he is working a lot, which tells me I am pretty much on my own from the time I land. I’m not good at venturing out and doing new things. With Alan I can do that, but on my own? I don’t think so.
I also worry about finding another house. What are our finances now? Alan has always taken care of the finances and has been pretty good at it as far as I can tell. I was never denied what I needed or wanted—for either the kids or myself. Alan just always provided.
He’s arranged for us to stay with an old Air Force buddy of his, a retired pilot. Alan said that Ash is a widower who has a “ginormous house” in Highland Park, which is a suburb of Chicago. Ash’s wife, Ann, passed away from cancer five years ago. Alan tells me that she was a successful attorney. Ash and Anne built their wonderful, big home on the water. Since Ash’s boys are grown and gone, he is by himself in the house. Alan says that our bedroom is on the complete opposite end of the house and is very private. “Liv—you are going to love it,” Alan said. Okay—sounds even better.
As I finally settle into the flight maybe I can just kick back, listen to some music, and relax. The flight attendant comes by to see if I would like a drink. It’s four-thirty in the afternoon…hmmmm is it too early for a glass of wine? Probably not, if you really think about it. I settle on a black coffee for the time being.
There is a good-looking young man sitting next to me. He seems to be working on his laptop, so I hope he doesn’t try to engage in conversation. Conversation with a stranger is something I just can’t do at the moment. He seems totally occupied in his work, so I feel safe.
My mind wanders. I think of how I will feel when I finally get to Chicago. Will Alan be happy to see me? Will we make love tonight? What is Ash like? What is Chicago like? What is Highland Park like? Too much to process. I decide to just check out of thinking mode, listen to the music, and chill. Chicago, by Frank Sinatra, comes on, and I smile.
My neighbor in the seat next to me sees me smiling, and speaks. “So, are you going to Chicago?” I turn my music down. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had headphones on. I just saw you smiling.”
“Oh—no problem, that’s okay,” I answer, “Yes, traveling to Chicago.”
“For business or pleasure?”
I have to think for a second before I respond to that. “For life.” I explain that I am going to meet up with my husband, who has been transferred there from Houston with his job.
“Wow—I bet that’ll be culture shock for you”
—Oh gee thanks! Great, just great, I think. Over the next minutes I learn that he is thirty, with a wife and two young kids. He is going to Chicago for a convention. Then, sensing that I don’t want any more conversation, he suddenly stops talking and gets back to his work.
Thank God. I hate to be rude, but I just need to be quiet (and over-think things which I tend to do)
I think back on how my life has evolved. Thirty years ago, I was working at an interior design firm in Houston as an intern while going to college, pursuing my dream of interior design. I met Alan at the grocery store, of all places! We were in the produce aisle when I saw him staring at me. He approached me, asking how to choose an avocado. I showed him how to choose the perfect one.
Tall, dark hair, low voice, and a heavy build, he was so sexy. We talked for a while, and exchanged phone numbers. I learned that he lived in the apartment complex next to mine. We went out a few times, and that was all it took for me to realize this was the man of my dreams. He was driven, good-looking, and a family-oriented guy who came from a large family. I was an only child. What girl wouldn’t fall for all that? We married six months after we met, and I immediately became pregnant with Lainey, our first child. My education and career were put on hold.
Alan had been in the service and already had a college degree when we met, but he was pursuing yet another degree. He was insatiably hungry for education. He was in hot pursuit of a degree in the IT field.
“Liv, I swear, once I get up and going, you can go back to school, get your degree, and pursue your dreams. I promise.”
Yeah, right.
After Lainey, I quickly got pregnant with Dalton. Two years after that, I had Bradley
Life after kids pushed me further and further away from getting my degree. No complaints, though. My kids and husband were my career—my life. I was so involved in my life as a wife and mother that I forgot about “me.” I volunteered at school; I hosted parties and dinners at our home for clients; I smiled; I laughed. But I was totally lost. Where was Olivia?
Our daughter, Lainey, was the brainiac in the family. Always the overachiever, she graduated from high school as her class’ valedictorian, then went to Tulane University and got her degree in architecture. She was focused and took out anyone who was between her and her goal. After college, she went on to get her master’s in architecture, and then a degree in interior design. Her goal, I learned, was to open a design-build firm. She took no prisoners. Within two years, after all of her degrees were wrapped up, Alan gave her $5,000.00 to start her own business. She had met the man of her dreams and married Kellan Childress, a successful energy trader. They had a fairy-tale wedding. Shortly thereafter, LPCI Inc. was formed. It quickly became one of the city’s most sought-after design-build firms. Alan and I were so proud of her. She had achieved in eight years what most people work a lifetime for.
Our boys were successful as well. Bradley, our youngest, got a finance degree from the University of Texas. He went to work for a venture-capital company in New York, after graduation. They graciously paid for his master’s degree from Cornell University. When he finished he’d gone back to New York. Now he’s living in Manhattan. He’s single and happy, but says he wants to get his life and finances in order before anything serious with a girl. That’s always a sign of a successful man.
Dalton, our middle son, majored in petroleum engineering from Texas A&M University. His job is in Malaysia. He’s also single. He and Bradley always tell me that when they’re ready to get into a serious relationship, I’ll be the first to know. That’s their way of nicely telling me to butt out of their business, I suppose.
When Alan and I decided to remodel our thirty-year-old house, Lainey was first to volunteer her firm’s services, gratis. I immediately declined, but Lainey insisted.
“Mom, please…I’m sure you and daddy are still bleeding from the cost of my education. This is the least I can do. I won’t take no for an answer, Mom.”
We were assigned Marcus Ardoin, her firm’s top designer, who was at my beck and call. He’s Lainey’s age, and of French descent, complete with a fabulously sexy French accent. Good-looking and very talented. Wow! I thought, this is going to be so much fun!
Together, we transformed my outdated, 3,000-square-foot house into an Architectural Digest/Southern Living home of the twenty-first century, brainstorming and shopping in every trade-only store we could find in Houston and Dallas. Marcus had an insatiable appetite for shopping bargains and unique things, which made our outings all the more fun. Lainey was getting everything at cost; she said the labor and design time was on her. When the house was finished, Marcus and I remained friends. He still makes it a point to call me and check in from time to time, even meeting me for coffee when our schedules permitted. I truly enjoy his friendship, and swoon when I answer the phone and hear his voice, with that yummy French accent, say “Bonjour! Quoi de neuf, mon amour?” It makes me happy just hearing those words. Such a sweet, sweet guy. I’ll truly miss him! Lainey is lucky to have such a talented young man in her employ. I have no doubt he will have a very successful career.
I’d enjoyed the fresh smell and all the wonderful things about my newly renovated home—entertaining friends, Alan’s clients, and our family. I’d cleaned out literally every closet, cabinet, and drawer in the house. I’d had my housekeeper come and spend three whole days working with me. It was the best feeling to smell the fresh paint smell and to see everything organized and clean. Then Alan told me he had been transferred. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. I certainly didn’t see that coming. I had to react with happiness for Alan and his career. But damn, what about me? I’d finally found something to sink myself into—my paradise—and now I was being uprooted and shifted off across the country.
Damn Alan and damn his job!