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Even though most of the trees have lost their leaves, the evergreens that line the road lend the entire landscape charm . I've never been one for the bucolic, I have always lived in a city, but there is something about the way the land is laid out that makes me want to go and explore. The seemingly endless expanses of green are dotted with cottages, their chimney's chugging smoke.
“This is all so idyllic.” I sigh, before I can stop myself.
"Yes, very different from Miami?" Freya’s eyes light up and I kick myself for giving her the chance to start talking again.
"Yes, very," I respond absentmindedly.
"What do you eat in Miami? Lots of enchiladas?" Jan asks excitedly. I can't help but laugh at her question.
“Not so much, Miami’s fare is mainly Cuban influenced.”
"Oh, like what? Rice and beans and pork and such?"
"Yes, and sandwiches and fried plantains. Though Miami's a melting pot, especially when it comes to food. I can find anything I'm in the mood for." I surprise myself with how many words I just said, but Jan's excitement about the food is contagious.
"I want to try a mojito, one day," she says.
"I can make one for you. If you've got rum and we can find some limes. The rest of the ingredients are typical household ingredients."
"Oh, we have limes, lovey. We have everything. Before you leave, I’ll hold you to it.”
"Okay, sounds like a plan." I smile broadly, honestly excited at the prospect.
"You said you own a business. What is it?" Freya demands. I don’t miss Jan’s small frown before I turn around to answer Sherlock’s question.
“I build cyber security networks for companies all over the world. I also have a pretty robust private investigation business. Mainly doing background checks on potential employees and business partners. And I've recently started getting a lot of clients who are looking for cyber dirt on their cheating spouses," I tell her.
She gasps and whips her head around to look at me, her eyes wide. She stares at me for a couple of beats before I glance back the road in front of us, giving my eyebrows a meaningful arch.
She flushes a little and looks back at the road, but grasps the steering wheel, and leans forward to ask excitedly: "Are you serious? That sounds so exciting. I mean I can't imagine you get a ton of clients like that. I mean, do people actually want to know if their spouses are cheating?" she asks in disbelief.
"Uh, yes,” I say dryly. “I have a waiting list of clients and I'm booked solid for the next eighteen months." I reach into my purse, open my wallet and pull out a card.
"Here's my card." I hand it to her. I wink, but don't smile.
She pales and shakes her head and looks back at the road. "No, thank you. I wouldn't have any need for it. But, uh...congratulations on your business success." She's all politeness and distance now. This is the typical reaction of married people, when I tell them what I do.
Jan snatches the card from me just as I'm withdrawing my hand.
"I'll take that. M' sister's husband is a no good so and so. He's suddenly taken to eating lots of pineapple. And you know what they say about men eating pineapple?"
"No...I don't think I know that." I share a bewildered glance with Freya.
"Well," Jan begins with relish in her voice, "They say that if a man eats pineapple, it makes his sperm taste better."
"Oh my God, Jan. Don't be vulgar," Freya squawks. I laugh, my first real laugh of the day at this woman who I'm liking more with every word that comes out of her mouth.
"It's not vulgar, Freya. You need to live a little," she says dismissively. "Well, anyhow. My sister’s never complained about the taste before and suddenly he's worried about it. But guess what?" she pauses dramatically and now I turn around in my seat to face her.
"My sister said she stopped blow'n ‘im when he stopped returning the favor and that it's been months. But he’s still eating pineapples. Drives all the way to Marks and Sparks to get them when they aren't in season. I'm convinced he's got some slag tucked away. I'll give my sister your card," she says as she tucks my card into her purse.
"You do that. If he's playing away, I'll find out," I tell her as I turn around.
Freya's gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles are turning pink. I see she's got a bleak expression on her face as she focuses on the road. I wonder what her story is.
Most people think they know their significant other. Turns out, most people are wrong. No one completely knows anyone. And anyone, even the most astute is capable of being deceived. Especially when they're “blinded by love.”
I’ve watched my parents live out their completely improbably Happily Ever After. Both of my sisters are madly in love with amazing men. I’m afraid I’ll never have that.
