Lee Geiger

The goal in marriage is not to think alike, but to think together.

Robert C. Dodds

“The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event.” 

Wait, that’s not even close. Let’s try it again.

“The following story is sorta-almost-pretty close to being true, and does depict a pair of actual empty-nesters making a go of it under the same Moraga roof.”

4:30am– Lee silences the same clock radio he’s had since 1982. He tiptoes out of the bedroom, doing his best not to rouse the same wife he’s had since 1986. Lee has no clue what time The Pretty Blonde wakes up to get ready for work, only that she’s normally plugged into her desk by 8:00am. Sharp.

6:30am- The stock market opens on the west coast. Lee is locked and loaded at Penserra Securities, eager to play digital dodgeball with the global economy.

1:00pm– The stock market waves the checkered flag and closes.

1:00:30– Lee sprints out the door faster than a babysitter’s boyfriend.

1:15– Lee pulls into his garage. After changing into a shabby t-shirt and sweats, he’s ready to reveal his secret identity…Cabana Boy!

Cabana Boy has a five-hour window to complete his daily list of “honey-do’s” before the boss gets home from work. He checks the answering machine, retrieves the mail, and cranks on the thermostat. It’s Wednesday, which means it’s Blue Apron Delivery Day. Lee hauls in the box of goodies from the front stoop— today it’s miso butter chicken with freekeh and sautéed carrots. Just like mom used to make.

1:45– Short on olive oil, Cabana Boy ventures out to the grocery store. History dictates he has a thirty-minute window to get there and back, otherwise he’ll get ensnarled in Moraga’s notorious after-school traffic. Lucky for him, Lee knows his was around a Safeway. He’s returns home in the nick of time with the olive oil, as well as a bag of string cheese, two cans of chili, a box of dishwashing detergent and a dozen rolls of triple-ply toilet paper (being Cabana Boy does have its perks).

2:30– Cabana Boy retreats into his Man Cave. He hunkers down at his desk, turns on ESPN’s “Pardon The Interruption” and attacks the stack of bills next his computer. Cabana Boy also masquerades as the family C.F.O.

3:00– It’s time to do the dinner prep, but not before loading some sheets and towels into the washer. “Alexa, play music by Bob Segar,” barks Cabana Boy to the robotic black pylon that has taken permanent residence on the kitchen counter. He sets to work slicing and dicing to the wishes of the Blue Apron recipe, a sous-chef skill he learned kicking and screaming. And bleeding.

3:30– A recent storm blew off a piece of backyard fencing. What would take a normal person two minutes to fix takes twenty minutes for Lee, who has a very complicated relationship with hand tools. He looks up at the second-story roofline and notices corn stalks growing out of the gutters. He goes online and finds a number for 1-800-GUTTER-GUY, who offers to do the job for $300. Cabana Boy begins contemplating a career change.

4:00– Wednesday is also Take Out the Garbage Day. Lee runs through the house collecting the family trash, and then drags three-overflowing cans out to the street. He glances at his watch and determines, if he hurries, he has just enough time to get over to the gym and squeeze in a workout. According to union rules, Cabana Boys are required to have at least one ab.

4:30– Lee realizes somewhere in mid-elliptical that he forgot to move the sheets and towels to the dryer. At this rate of dementia, by this time next year, Cabana Boy will be lucky to find his own cabana.

6:00– Lee cranks the oven to 450 and fires up the stove, two tasks he used to regularly screw up. That’s why God invented fire extinguishers.

6:15– Still no sign of The Pretty Blonde. “Alexa, cover me. I’m going in.” Lee wonders when the geniuses at Amazon will program the Big Black Pillar to cook. He peeks over at the wall calendar, wondering if the boss has made alternate plans. Nothing for tonight, but next week she has a book club meeting, two Bible study sessions, and a girl’s night out on the town. Besides being her Cabana Boy, Lee is also his wife’s appointment secretary. Unfortunately for her, he’s a much better cook.

6:30– The Pretty Blonde staggers into the house lugging a briefcase and the weight of the world on her shoulders. She profusely apologizes for being late for dinner, something Lee did to her only a million times when she stayed home and called the kitchen shots. She takes over cooking the chicken, a process that turns Blue Apron Night into an unofficial date night. With dinner on the table, The Pretty Blonde begins describing in intricate detail her daily ten-hour work dance. Lee listens attentively, wondering if he should ask for time-and-a-half pay for consulting services.

7:30– Cabana Boy pours the boss a cup of tea, then offers her a choice of a foot or neck rub. His motives for massaging the stress from her day are twofold. One, it builds up a capital reserve account he can draw upon when he wants to play golf on the weekend. And two, he wisely determined six years ago, when she decided to go back to work after the kids had flown the coop, that The Pretty Blonde is more than just his wife and best friend. She’s also his 401k.

8:00– Cabana Boy clocks out and bids goodnight to the boss, secure in the knowledge that, after two decades of cheering for him, this chapter in their marriage is Her Time. Lee fears, however, that despite his Herculean efforts, he’ll only be half as good taking care of her as she was taking care of him.

But at least he paid better.