Trivial Concerns
Laura followed her husband Tony out the door into the grey street. The city fit her mood. A nagging, discordant feeling had taken root in the pit of her stomach years ago, just about the time, Michael, their youngest child, moved out. That nagging had blossomed into doubt these past few days in New York. Usually a dull, low throb, it flared up into a fire-ball after their latest argument in their hotel room just a few minutes ago.
Ostensibly they came to New York for her nephew’s wedding, but there was another reason for the trip. The therapist recommended it. A vehicle to spark their love life. A chance to rediscover what had been lost through the years. Something to help them rediscover the couple they used to be. Before, she’d been excited by the prospects. Now, as she trudged down the icy sidewalk behind Tony, Laura felt lost.
The therapist made it sound so simple. They changed over the years. Things they loved about each another when they met were masked by the presence of their children. The children were gone and their personalities were uncovered again. It happened to millions of couples. The empty nest syndrome. It was just a matter of finding that person they loved. What she failed to mention was the number of couples who split up when they couldn’t remember what they had loved about their spouse. Laura realized that it wasn’t going to be as easy as the therapist made it sound. Instead she was more and more convinced that it was over. It was impossible for her to love Tony like she used to. This New York trip, instead of helping Laura find the Tony she once love, convinced her that Tony was completely different.
She looked up. Tony, at the corner waiting for her, impatient as always. She seethed inwardly at his frustration. He was frustrated over everything these days.
“We need to hurry.” His voice filled with irritation.
“Why?”
“Our reservations are in fifteen minutes.” He was plaintive and condescending at the same time.
“I know that,” Laura said. “But, it’s only a few miles.” She looked up and down the street at all the people and cars that flowed back and forth like detritus from a flood.
“A few miles in New York can take hours. If we aren’t there in time, they won’t hold the table.” Tony spoke as if he was a native New Yorker, which only inspired more ambivalence in Laura.
“Would that be such a crime?” Laura asked.
He turned on her. “Do you want to go out or not?”
She looked at him and wondered what she had ever seen in him. She tried to remember the last time he smiled at her, genuinely smiled at her. She shook her head in resignation when no memory came.
Her voice was flat, emotionless. “Let’s just go.”
“I’m serious; do you want to go out or not?” Tony grabbed her upper arm and held her back from the street. She pulled away instinctively and looked up at him as if he was a stranger.
“Damn it, Tony, let’s just go.” She wasn’t in the mood to air their dirty laundry on the street.
Tony, to Laura’s relief, backed down. He turned to hail a minivan taxi that was about to drive past. He turned back to her when he saw the cab turn their way. The anger still lurked behind his eyes.
“If you don’t want to go, that’s fine, I’m having second thoughts myself.” He returned to look at the street and watch the approaching cab. “It’s not like we both aren’t doing this for the same reason.”
“What reason is that Tony?” Laura’s voice was loud so she could be heard over the hum of the street.
His words came out quickly, as if he was spitting something out of his mouth. “Cause we were told to.” He opened the sliding door to the cab. “Don’t pretend you’re doing it for any other reason, either.” He turned and took a seat quickly like a teenager being forced to go out with the family.
Still on the sidewalk, Laura watched him. She thought for a split second about closing the door on him and walking away in the other direction. She would turn and lose herself in the crowd. Tony might not even come after her, he would probably stay in the cab and watch her leave. He would huff, roll his eyes, and fume.
Laura stood so long that the spur of the moment thought turned into serious consideration. Why not? She could think of it as a defining moment in her life. She would stroll away from this life and into a new one. A new life without Tony. Just thinking that, thinking of a life without the acrimony brought a curl to the ends of her lips. She would go to that cooking school, the one Tony thought was a waste of time. She’d have an apartment to herself and be able to come home to nothing but peace and quiet. The children would come visit her in her new place and be proud of her independence. Tony would agree to a divorce. She would be in charge of her life again.
She leaned back and peered into the cab. Tony waited for her, his eyes impatient, glaring. She turned her head and looked back the way they had come. The crowd was thick but moving quickly toward her like a swollen river. She thought about jumping into them. All she needed was a catalyst; one final push that would take the decision out of her hands, something, just one thing to provide the momentum she needed to be washed away from this life and end up with a new one. She looked in at Tony and hoped he would still be glaring. Tony of all people should be able to give her that motivation to dive into another life. All it would take is a sarcastic remark, a snide comment, a small insult. Instead, she saw Tony waiting and slowly he held out his hand, and waved her into t he cab; slowly, asking with his hand that he be allowed to help her in.
The moment vanished behind her like ether in a stiff breeze. Laura sighed heavily as she stepped into the cab, and wondered how long it would be before she regretted her decision. She took the seat next to Tony and realized that the moment would become an epiphany in her life. Not a positive one, like learning to ride a bike or finding a lost treasure, instead it would be a moment lost, a decision reached incorrectly. She would look back on those few seconds outside the cab with a sense of shame, knowing she had not been strong enough to leave on her own. She slammed the sliding door shut and felt more isolated and alone than she had the moment before.
The cabbie barely turned to look at them as he spoke, “Where to?”
“5th and West 8th.” Tony looked out the window as he spoke.
“Damien’s?”
“Yep,” Tony mumbled.
Laura jumped as a loud pulse of music, a blare of brass horns, trumpets, trombones, flutes, assaulted her ears. Instinctively she turned to Tony. His eyes wide, mouth agape. His hand shot out and found Laura’s. Blue and yellow squares of light blinked overhead like a suspended discotheque floor. She turned to face the driver, a bald man with a beaming face, bright with excitement.
“You’re on Cash Cab!” the driver yelled at them.
Tony stared for a moment before answering. “What?”
“Cash Cab,” the driver continued. “It’s a trivia game show that takes place right here in my cab.”
“You’re kidding,” Laura said. The fear was quickly displaced by anger. An edge crept into her voice as she spoke, and her hand went to the door handle, a moment from leading. “What is this?”
“I’m not kidding,” the driver laughed, his voice boisterous and obnoxious. “I’ll drive you to your destination and on the way ask you a series of general knowledge questions. The questions get harder as we get closer to your stop. You get the chance to win as much money as you possible before we get to Damien’s.”
Laura shook her head in an effort to clear her thoughts and looked over at Tony. There was a tinge of anger bubbling in her chest and she felt sure he would be furious at the cabbie; the deception; the delay. She was confident this would bring out the worst in Tony. Instead of anger though, Tony smiled. He leaned forward in his seat, rapt by what the driver said, grinning and nodding along with the driver.
The cabbie looked at Laura and tried to impart some of his excitement to her, but all she felt was shock, not just at the odd nature of the cab ride but also over Tony’s enthusiasm. She hadn’t seen him this excited for years. For a moment she wondered if she wasn’t the butt of a cruel joke arranged by Tony.
“So what do you say?” The cabbie stared at Laura now, asking for an answer. “Do you want to play?”
Laura had missed all of the rules the cabbie had detailed. She remembered in vague patches words like “shout out” and “red light challenge” but beyond that she had no idea what she was about to agree to. She looked over at Tony. He nodded his head at her eagerly. She thought about asking the driver for the rules again, but instead, not wanting Tony’s excitement to dissipate, she nodded. She felt the pressure from Tony’s hand around hers increase with excitement.
“So here’s your first question?” the driver said as Laura felt the cab leave the curb and drive away, sweeping her along. She looked at her right hand and saw it tremble excitement over what potential that this new stream held.
She looked up as she heard the driver’s low, questioning voice. “In 2006, what British tycoon announced he would invest three billion dollars of Virgin’s profits to fight global warming?”
Tony looked over at Laura and smiled. “We know this one,” he said.
“Branson, right?” Laura heard herself say. Her voice stunned her. She hadn’t meant to speak, but seeing Tony so happy sent a shiver up her spine that she hadn’t felt for a long time. It was as if her mind was reacting to Tony and not giving her the chance to catch up with the stimuli around her.
“Is that your final answer?” The cabbie looked back at them.
She looked at Tony, unsure for a moment. She saw him nod. She saw enthusiasm and happiness in his eyes.
“Yeah, Branson.” Tony said. He winked at Laura.
The cabbie heard the answer but didn’t say anything. The pressure around Laura’s hand increased as the two of them waited for the cabbie to respond. Laura’s other hand trembled more, hoping that they weren’t wrong on the first question.
“You just won twenty-five dollars.” The cabbie yelled at them as he continued to drive through the thick evening traffic.
Tony hugged her. It was a hug that took Laura back several months, almost a year. A year of no touching except that which was expected for family and friends. A year of coldness and distance gone in an instant. A year of nothing, gone, as Tony embraced her. Laura hugged him back.
“We still have over fifty blocks to go, folks.” The cabbie said sardonically. “Plenty of time to win money.”
Tony smiled stupidly and sat back into his chair. For a moment he fumbled with his hands, wondering where to put them. He grabbed Laura’s hands again and the familiar squeeze returned.
“Okay, here is your next twenty-five dollar question,” the cabbie continued in a faux game show host voice. “Immortalized on a postage stamp in 1995, what jukebox company’s most famous model is nicknamed the Bubbler?”
Laura looked at Tony, unsure of the answer. He was already looking at her, his eyes showed that he hoped she knew the answer. He seemed to recognize that neither of them knew the answer and spoke to her quickly.
“Well, let’s name some jukebox makers.” His voice was soothing, calm, in control, but Laura recognized the excitement mixed with expectation that laced his words.
“Rockola? Wurlitzer?” Laura asked, unsure of herself.
Tony looked back, a vacant look in his eyes. “That’s as many or more than I would have known.” Again, the slight squeeze of her hand warmed her. She felt him interlace his fingers into hers.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“Take a guess,” he said.
The cabbie interrupted, “I need an answer folks.”
Laura was in the seat that faced the cabbie. She realized this made her the spokesman for their team. She considered asking Tony if they could trade seats. She didn’t like handling all this responsibility for the questions. Her right hand still trembled and it worried her that she’d make a mistake.
“It’s okay, just pick one.” Tony looked at her and gave her a pat on the shoulder.
“Alright,” Laura paused. “Wurlitzer?”
The cabbie’s pause was unnaturally long again, but he replied with real enthusiasm when he told them they were correct. The lights flashed above them and again Laura allowed herself to be lost in the depths of Tony’s quick hug and his enthusiasm.
“Good job, you’re up to fifty dollars,” the cabbie continued. “Here’s your next question. What specific variety of poker is played in the championship match at the World Series of Poker?”
Before the ride Laura thought that she and Tony worked as two individuals. The hand squeezes, the eye contact, the back and forth for each question, it felt like they were making love. It was as if Tony knew what she needed and she him. They were in a rhythm that they hadn’t experienced for a long time. A comfortable, familiar feeling spread through Laura. Her breath steadied, the questions rolled on, and slowly her hand stopped trembling.
When they got their first question wrong, Laura thought Tony would be angry, revert back to the frustrated husband she had entered the cab with. Instead she saw the opposite reaction. Tony was warm and consoling, sympathetic, even comforting. Laura found herself looking forward to each question.
The ride came to an end abruptly. The cabbie turned around in his seat.“I need an answer folks, if you miss this question, out you go.” He smiled without malice, just a light heartedness that Laura found compelling.
“Go ahead and say Mongolia, Sweetie,” Tony said.
The appellation made Laura want to cry. It seemed like it had been so long since she had heard him call her that. She no longer cared if they got the next question correct. This ride had been the change in direction she needed. She turned away to wipe a quick tear away from her lower eyelid and saw the stream of people on the sidewalk outside the cab. It looked like the same crowd that they had left outside their hotel. She thought of how different their marriage would become after this cab ride. She dreamed of taking this new relationship out of the cab and into the next world.
Laura smiled, “Mongolia.”
The driver paused so long that it became awkward. Tony’s hand dug into Laura’s and they both leaned forward in their seats expectantly.
“You’ve just won eight hundred dollars in the Cash Cab,” the cabbie yelled.
Tony engulfed Laura in a bear hug and rocked her back and forth. He leaned back and held up his hand for a high five celebration clap. Laura tried to do it correctly but what came out was awkward and robotic slap, which only made Tony laugh and hug her again.
“Here you go folks,” the cabbie held out a thick wad of bills. “You can take it now, all eight hundred dollars, or you can risk it all, and go double or nothing on a video bonus question. Take a moment and decide what you want to do.”
Tony turned to look at Laura, “I think we should go for it, don’t you. I mean the audience would be upset with us if we just took the money and ran.”
Laura’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Audience?”
“The television audience,” Tony looked perplexed.
“What?”
“Sweetie, this is a television game show,” Tony smiled at her, his face still beaming, his teeth spectacularly white. He turned and waved at the corner of the cab. “Yeah, see that little thing right there and there, those are cameras.” He pointed around the cab. The cabbie looked back and smiled.
“This is going to be on TV?”
Tony laughed and hugged her again. “Oh, Sweetie, yes, haven’t you ever seen the show?”
Laura shook her head. A swarm of questions rose up in her head. Had Tony known it was a game show from the start? Had all of his happiness and joy, their reconnection, their re-found relationship; had it all been manufactured over those fifty long blocks? Had it all been a show for the viewers at home, so they would think their relationship was happy and normal?
Tony leaned forward to speak to the cabbie. “We’re going to go for it.”
Laura sat still in her chair and watched him. She followed his movements and watched his face trying to decide if he was acting or if he felt the same excitement that she had.
The next few moments were a blur. A video screen with a question, Tony knowing the answer without her help, and sixteen hundred dollars in cash money proffered to them both. She took the cash laconically, Tony hugged her again. She looked at him, her eyes pouring over him to catch some telltale sign that his emotion was genuine, that it wasn’t all an act.
“Thanks folks,” the cabbie signaled that it was the end of the ride. “Thanks for playing and have a great rest of your night with your winnings.” He pointed to the door with his hand in an invitation to Laura to open the door and leave.
