The Launch

Chapter Eleven

"Isn't it weird how orange juice tastes after you brush your teeth? Those are two flavors that really aren't meant to go together," I say. I smack my lips and shiver as if it's the taste in my mouth giving me the willies and not the chill of another uncomfortable breakfast the morning after a fight. She says nothing and doesn't even look up from her newspaper, so I forge ahead, babbling nonsensically. "We did a comic strip about that. Sorry if my material isn't as fresh as this great juice. Where do we get this stuff? Is it from concentrate?"

I haven't been home for dinner any night this week, which is taking its toll. We're going straight from work to the launch station every day to work feverishly on promotional materials, bios, new scripts, character profiles... the list is never ending. Ray has us busting our asses doing stuff we never even considered a part of comic strips or a launch. I really question how we would have pulled this off without his help now, because there is no way the people at the Royal Features office would have bought that our pathetic set of directions were coming from Ray. Who knew that you have to customize your demographics insert sheet by region and by size of market? We have about six different profiles of our target audience, each one showing how we hit it dead center.

It's exciting to be finally working with Ray, because he is a legend in the business and we had always dreamed of someday collaborating with him. Just not like this. But it's playing proper hell with my home life. I wonder if the boys could do without me for a night, so I can make it up to the wife? Jessica is not impressed with being neglected and can't understand why JC and I don't work here at our place so she can at least feel a part of the action. This is a hard one to explain, which she is smart enough to figure out and so is choosing to be hurt by it. Of course, the conflict is giving me all sorts of script ideas, which is good in a way.

We've been conditioned by sitcoms on how to behave in a marriage. Married people trade barbs and keep up a steady stream of one-liners and ironic spousal deprecation and the studio audience yuks it up appreciatively. In reality, hurtful comments aren't as funny as they seem on TV and the studio audience tends to feel that the other cast member is just being insensitive. That's why I try to keep most of my witty banter for the strip.

"What about dinner and a movie tonight?" I say. Just floating a first reparation payment offer.

"On a Thursday night?" she says, still not looking up.

"You get to choose the movie."

Now she looks up. "And the restaurant?"

"Yes, both. Just to say sorry for what a crumb bum I've been."

"That's a nicer way of saying what I said."

"All right, I've been an asshole. Can you forgive me?" I reach out for her hand, as they often do in the movies. I try my winningest smile. She smiles a little bit and then jabs her fork into my hand as punishment for breaking down her defenses. "Ouch!"

"Stop trying to get in my good books."

"Oh, I should just give up and stay in the dog house? What's next, sleeping on the couch?"

"Honestly?" She looks as if she's considering it. "I think we're not doing so good. Never mind the last week; at least I know there's a reason for it. But we keep having the same conversations and nothing ever changes. Just the excuses are new. I think next is you moving out for a while. Or for good."

No way I'm touching that. "So what movie do you want to see?" That is some scary shit right there. Of course we have the same conversations, because she keeps bringing up the same problems that I don't know how to fix. Can't she just live with the things that can't change? How am I supposed to know what's a deal breaker and what's a toilet seat or toothpaste cap? The Boss says, 'You've got to learn to live with what you can't rise above.' Amen, brother. I can say that there's a lot of stuff I've had to rise above, too. My wife is a bundle of neuroses wrapped in a shell of contradictions and a hot button temper. But that's her and I love her. Case closed. No doghouse and no difficult conversations.