On the Long Route

Cobb Patterson

Chapter 3

Cobb Patterson

1999

Silence was golden for Bitzi Baxter, home alone and thinking of nothing except combing over her article for the fifth time before emailing it to her editor. Up for a possible production editing position, she did not want to leave any stone unturned. Immersing herself in her work also helped her nerves. Her writing seemed to be one of the few things she could fix these days, and it gave her a small sense of control. She knew, however, that this peaceful existence would not last much longer. Bo would be home anytime now, replacing her golden silence with thick tension apt to smother her. She could not pinpoint an exact reason for their seemingly constant arguing. It had been going on for so long now.

She supposed his job had a bit to do with it. He often was gone at length, now more than ever, she suspected, just to be away from home. She imagined him whiling away an entire day in an airport lounge or smoking in a nearby bar, the company of inebriated strangers welcomed over hers.

Perhaps it was a bit of a personality clash as well. The spontaneity and adventurous nature she had fallen for so long ago once brought balance to her composed and practical world. Now those attributes, almost painfully, grated her nerves. Not that she was all that easy to get along with. She knew that her perfectionism and planning got to him. How caged he must feel. In a way, she really could not blame him for wanting to take the job.

Bo's most recent impulse had sparked their biggest argument yet. Rick Shanahan, a friend of Bo's in New York, happened to be retiring from his job, and his job happened to be personal pilot for Cobb Patterson, one of the world's biggest business magnates. Rick had recommended Bo as a replacement and arranged a meeting with Patterson during Bo's recent trip to New York. The two had hit it off, thanks to their shared love of classic rock. One of Bo's favorite ways to open a conversation had always been to ask people how they felt about the Rolling Stones. It had worked on her. Before the hour was up, Bo had landed the job and agreed to move the family to New York in a month's time.

There was just one small problem. Bo had never discussed this with her. She had dropped her favorite coffee mug when he had shown up last week and announced, "We're moving to New York!" The promise of fewer hours and better pay had not been enough to sway her. They had argued for hours after she had replied with, "Absolutely not," only stopping once they had realized that it was past time to pick up Buster from preschool.

Of course, they had guarded their son from their arguments as much as possible. Though a separation was feasible, there was no need to worry him until it was definite. As Bitzi had thrown on her jacket, Bo had begged, "Just think about it. Give it a week, will you, Bitz?" She had said that she would and left it at that as she went out the door, her mind already made up.

The week was up now. Bo had been out of town, still serving what was left of his time with the airline. When he got home—and that should have been four hours ago—he would expect an answer. She heard his car in the driveway. Bitzi looked at the clock at the bottom of her computer screen. He's never even remotely on time, she thought, adding to his list of offenses. She heard the front door close.

"You there, Bitz?" He called from out of sight.

It was his version of "Honey, I'm home". He had been saying it for years. Today, however, it annoyed her.

My car is parked outside. Where does he think I am?

Bo appeared in the doorway and leaned on the frame.

"There you are," he said, surveying the room. "Where's Buster?"

Bitzi concentrated on the computer screen, wishing not to look at him just yet. She clicked SEND on her composition.