Regulating John

As Jamie Bridges approached the intersection, a red light appeared in the center of the dash-board and the car slowed to a stop. Jamie barely noticed the oncoming intersection at all, until she felt the slow deceleration of her 2156 Ford. She was too busy touching up her make-up and thinking about what a bitch her boss was to worry about such trivial things. As a steady flow of traffic passed in front of her, another car pulled up alongside hers. It was a classic model that Jamie had never seen before. She could tell by the sound of the motor that it was a manual-type, gasoline consumption vehicle, which told her everything she needed to know about the driver.
 She looked out her side window, at the man behind the other car's steering wheel. He wasn’t very good looking (most of them weren't). Just on the other side of the man, Jamie could see his tattooed, outstretched arm hanging outside his car window, a small stream of smoke rising steadily above it. Is he smoking? She thought. Gross! The street light turned green and her vehicle moved forward. Before her small, electric car was half way through the intersection, the man in the pollution-mobile sped past her. She made a mental note of his license plate number. Smoking in public was against the law.
Jamie had never been much of a people person. She’d spent most of her time in an eight by ten cubicle, writing code for security software. The only human interaction that she got most of the time was from her boss, Henrietta, whom she hated with a passion that could level all of the sky rises on the moon. Henrietta loved to stop by Jamie's cubicle at all times of the day and just hang out, looking over her shoulder while she was trying to type, or talk to her while she was trying to work. Only a witch like Henrietta would make it a daily ritual to bug their employee as much as possible and still hold that employee accountable for low production.
On her last evaluation, Henrietta gave Jamie an average rating. Average ratings were the smooch of death when an employee tried to climb out of the position they were in and apply for a higher one...maybe even one with a window or a bathroom nearby. Other than Henrietta, Jamie didn't communicate too much with the outside world, which was fine with her. Most people were idiots; in her mind...it's better to just avoid them as much as possible.
The only two things in Jamie's life that she loved, absolutely adored, was her home and her husband...in that order. When the car pulled up in front of her two story house, it felt like a million tons of weight had lifted from her shoulders. On the way to the front door, she stopped and admired the small garden, just under the front window. John must've been out here all day, she thought. I have the perfect man.
John Bridges, whose maiden name was Kelsey opened the door for his wife when she walked up… happy to see her, he lifted her into the air and gave her a tight hug.
"Put me down, John!" Jamie said. "You're getting flour all over me!"
John set her down and looked, horrified at the front of his wife's suit. The entire front of the outfit was dusted with flour. His eyes began to fill with tears.
"I'm so sorry Honey," he said. "I was just so happy to see you."
Jamie looked at his tear-filled eyes, his sad, pathetic expression, and couldn't stay mad at him.
"It's okay Babe," she said, wiping away his tears. "Just try to be more careful; okay?"
John smiled, gave her a quick kiss, and then rushed back into the house.
"Come 'on! I got a surprise for you!"
“Give me a few! I want to take a shower!” She called after him.
Jamie let out a small sigh as she watched her husband run off, so anxious to please her. He really is the perfect man, she thought, and then followed him inside, closing the door behind her.
***
The smell of fresh baked apple pie drifted through the house. Jamie lathered up her hair and commanded the shower to switch to stream mode. A fast stream of water shot out from the nozzle. She stepped beneath it and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Thoroughly clean, she commanded the water to turn off. The stream of water stopped instantly, replaced by heavy drafts of warm air, blowing her body dry. She revolved in place, making sure to lift her arms and spread her legs to get to those hard to reach places.
The dryer lasted about two minutes. When it finished, the shower door slid open, displaying a dark red evening dress, hanging on the opposite wall. Perfectcolor, Jamie thought as she stepped out from the shower. He's going to get some extra kisses tonight. She dressed quickly, not wanting to keep her husband waiting.
John was busy bustling around the kitchen when Jamie walked into the dining room. She sat down in her usual spot at the head of the table, picked up the fully charged wine glass, and took a drink. The double doors to the kitchen slid apart and John walked into the dining room, carrying a tray in both hands. He sat the tray down in front of his wife and then pulled up a chair next to her, watching as she took the first bite.
"How is it?" He asked.
"The chicken's divine," she said. "I don't know how you always make it taste so real!"
"Wait til you try the pie."
The apple pie was warm and delicious. So delicious, in fact, she pushed away her dinner plate and concentrated on the dessert alone. John's face lit up.
"You like it?"
"Oh yes."
John cleared the table after Jamie finished eating and brought the wine bottle back with him when he returned. He re-charged Jamie's glass and sat down.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"What?"
"You seem a little upset."
Jamie couldn't believe that he'd felt her anxiety, even though he always did. John was very sensitive to those things.
"Oh, nothing,” she said. “I just had a bad day."
He held her hand, and gave it a loving squeeze.
"You want to talk about it?"
"It's okay Honey," she said. "Henrietta's just being a bitch again."
"What’d she do this time?"
"Nothing really...she's still bugging me at work, then trying to act like I don't get anything done. It's just frustrating, that's all."
John released her hand and stood up, a look of contempt on his face.
"They don't deserve you," he said. "I don't know why you stay there."
"It's not like I can just quit," Jamie said. "What am I supposed to do; stay home with you and starve?"
"You wouldn't starve!" John yelled. "I'd take care of you!"
"Why are you raising your voice at me, John?" Jamie said. She looked him over, up and down, and then felt his forehead. "Are you feeling okay, Honey? You've never acted like this before."
John pushed her hand away and turned his back on her.
"I clean the house, do the gardening, fix your meals...I think I'm entitled to an opinion."
Jamie didn't know what to say. She'd never had a problem with her husband in the past.
"Stay here Honey; okay? I'm going to get my purse."
"Whatever..."
She retrieved her purse and returned to the dining room, gulped down her last bit of wine, and then pulled out a glass, rectangular card. She pressed her finger onto the front of the card and it displayed the business logo and contact information for Rick's food delivery service. She moved her finger to the side, over and over, skimming through the inventory until she found the one that she was looking for. Then, she pressed a small, blue dot at the corner of the screen.
"Dr. Mitchell's office," a woman's voice said.
"Yes...hello...this is Jamie Bridges. I'd like to bring my husband, John in for a check-up."
"Is this an emergency?"
"I think it might be."
***
Jamie was busy reading an article about a group of kids from the local college who demonstrated against a new law that required citizens to turn in paper copies of books for recycling, when she heard the lobby door slide open. She glanced up from her magazine and then quickly looked back down at the screen. What the hell is she doing here? She wondered.
"Jamie, hi," Henrietta said. "What are you doing here?" She was followed into the lobby by a man who looked twenty years younger than she was. He was favoring his left side as he walked. She led the man to a nearby chair, helped him sit down, and then took the empty chair next to him.
If Jamie was a rude person, she would've ignored her boss. She turned off the magazine and reach deep inside herself for the strength to deliver a convincing smile.
"I brought John in for a little check-up."
"Oh...nothing serious, I hope," Henrietta said.
"I don't think so; he's just not feeling well today."
"Yeah," Henrietta said. She placed her hand on top of her husband's head and rubbed it lightly. "Rick here hasn't been doing too well either." She leaned forward, cupped her hand around her mouth as if they weren't the only people in the lobby and whispered, "I think I might be a little too rough on him, if you know what I mean."
Just then, the door at the back of the office slid open and Jamie's husband walked out, followed by a tall man in a white lab coat.
"Miss Bridges?" The man asked.
"Yes, I'm Jamie Bridges,” Jamie said. She stood and shook the man’s hand.
"Good news," The man said; "The Doctor says that John is going to be just fine."
"What was wrong with him?" Jamie asked, making sure to keep her voice low enough so that Henrietta couldn't eavesdrop.
"His emotions regulator burned out," the man said. "Those things usually have a life span of around twenty years, so I'm not entirely sure why his crashed. I contacted Kelsey robotics and they said that he was still under warranty, so no charge for the visit. Also, as an apology, they had us throw in some upgrades that I think you'll like."
"What kind of upgrades?"
"The kind that we don't need to talk about in public," the man whispered...then he winked.
"I'm sorry," John said. "I didn't mean to worry you, Babe."
Jamie grabbed her husband's hand and led him to the lobby door.
"Don't worry about it Honey," she said as they walked through the lobby door; "I'm sure you'll think of some way to make it up to me."
The man in the white lab coat watched them leave and then turned toward Henrietta; his broad smile replaced with an irritated expression that he reserved just for her.
"What is it now, Miss Graves?" he asked.
"I think I may have thrown his hip out again," Henrietta said, blushing. "Can you fix him?"
The man looked like he considered saying no, but then his irritated expression softened into something resembling resignation.
"Why not," he said. "We've fixed him three times already this month...what's one more?"
 
THE END
Copyright 2013, R.M. DuChene