SOMEWHAT
Jack Somewhat is a man on the go, mostly. Fine on Tuesdays and flat on Thursdays, what figure he cuts on the rest is anyone’s guess. Just somewhere in between, said his mother, Henriette, whither hopes for her boy. Surprising everybody, Jack met Lucy SoSo. Their wedding was neither here nor there, and their vows skipped the death do us part and opted for “whatever.” Unexpectedly, to many of his friends, Jack found a job. His boss went by Teddy Twilldo. When Jack was up for review, Teddy counted Jack’s pluses and his minuses, and because Veronica passed by at the time for the sum, he wrote Jack is close enough on Mondays and Wednesdays. And so things floated along, the ups and downs when disturbed by an errant wind, resembled the surface of a pond. Lucy’s friend, Veronica, with the loose caboose who has no patience for wishy-washing, wanted to know the gist of things in bed between Jack and Lucy. Lucy blushed, but didn’t gush over how it was when the two did greet between the sheets. Veronica prodded for views of ripping, clenching, and the manner of thrusting, causing Lucy to grow pale. Still, Jack’s swimmers beat the odds and got lucky. At the hospital, the nurses begged and cajoled Lucy SoSo to give it the college try. If little Freddy or Annie became stuck in the canal, then ring the curtain down, making a hiccup in the activities in the Somewhat household. Lucy wanted her body back. Here was pain, not an equilibrium she craved. Push, she did. Out came two, one of each.
They took turns bringing the twins to the office. Teddy smiled and didn’t bother to worry on the what that could happen. Soon nobody did any work; they played with the babies. Teddy Twilldo didn’t know there was an end to his rope. Jack had a new boss, Bob Dewitt. Bob tossed the twins. Lucy didn’t count on having a baby attached to each nipple. Jack didn’t think this out. Babies were helpless and on a scale of ten needed you at twelve, not a bit less; it was the whole hog.
At the office, Bob was on his case to pick up the pace. Lucy was off her game, verging on a wreck. The house kablooey, laundry in piles, dishes with fuzz. Trash bins gurgled and burped off their excess, making passage unwise. Cribs, playpens, toys, bouncy things took over every space. Jack, where could he be? At work day and night, trying to find a new gear, proving to Bob he’s more than a kabob to be grilled, gnashed, and washed down the gullet.
At first, he put on a brave face about the ways of stepping up as if he knew how. The pile in his inbox made him nauseous. Energy bar wrappers littered the floor. Pink memo slips, answered, crumpled in a ring around the wastebasket. Unheard of this. The in-basket lay wanting and the out-basket in a glut. Never ever. Bob, behind glass, watched, sending cryptic messages. Today’s: The toast won’t brown if you don’t bring the heat.
Lucy put her bra on upside down and flooded her chest with furious tears. Throughout the day she’d stand rooted, not knowing what she meant to do. Veronica saw the Somewhats were beyond needing a little here and a dash there. She mobilized. Her flock of gal pals swept through, making new. Desperate times, Lucy struck the mother-in-law bell. Henriette came to visit, not too long and not too much.
Halfway on the walk home, the skies opened. Water sluiced down Jack’s neck, into his pockets, and overflowed his shoes. Henriette stood in the front hall; a towel waited on the floor. He tore at his clothes, then stopped. Mom turned her back, and naked he dashed for a steaming hot shower. Carrying a wet bundle, passing the couple’s bedroom door, H. shot out a sharp elbow. It snapped open, banging against the wall. Lucy popped up expecting a twin, then noticed large wet footprints in the hall and water blasting in the bathroom. Rushing toward the sound to find the rest of the big toe prints’ owner, the nightdress floated down like a cloud in the hallway’s soft light . Later, together under the covers, as her being dissolved, she whispered, “There’s more, J.” A space opened in Lucy’s mind. Her everything was overwhelmed and reorganized. Then, blessed sleep descended. The babies had enough on board, or whiled the time wiggling their fingers like anemones tasting the air.
In the morning the light was brighter; things, all in all, could be worse. They came to see how, in general, on balance, things fall into place, neither too this nor that. Different, but just where they should be.