Two Women's Lives

(Please click on the title for a reading aloud by the author.)

I’ll call them Claire and Laura. These are not their actual names. The dealership where I’m bringing my motorcycle to have a safety recall taken care of also works on cars and has a shuttle service. Claire is driving the shuttle, a jazzy SUV and Laura is another customer needing a lift. I’m already in the front passenger seat and Laura gets in behind me. We three are contemporaries, all in our fifties. Laura has had her car in before and she and Claire are already acquainted. Laura is in a rush to get to her office and launches into discussion about her work anxieties. She works for an insurance agency and specializes in health insurance. Apparently since President Obama’s health insurance bill of this past May, “my job has been hell,” she says. For the first time she “has no solutions” for some of her clients. “Lowering coverage and raising deductibles no longer works,” she says.

Getting to Laura’s office takes fifteen minutes. Both Claire and Laura’s Blackberries ring. Not very long ago if you said to someone, “my Blackberry has Bluetooth,” you would have gotten a blank look. Claire fidgets with hers but does not answer it. There’s a no hand held device law in Santa Fe. Laura answers hers. The conversation is thus interrupted two or three times. I keep quiet. I am ignorant about health insurance. I haven’t had any for – I’ve lost track - maybe fifteen years, I know the delivery of health care in this country is criminally poor and insurance companies are wildly profitable. Choosing my battles with care, this is one I stay out of. I find Laura’s comment that she has no solutions for her clients telling. Perhaps a little light will come on that for-profit insurance companies controlling the delivery of health care is not the solution. Nonetheless, I feel for Laura. She seems genuinely concerned about her clients, has put in her time with a career and is stressed over the top. We leave her at her office and Claire and I are off for my “office,” my home which is out in the sticks. We’ll see if this SUV can handle my road.

Claire has a lot of things on her mind. Relaxed is not how I would describe her, but her Blackberry quiets down and we start trading stories. She and her husband have recently moved to Santa Fe. They’re buying a house here which is out in the country compared to their previous urban life. We talk about restaurants in their new neighborhood, catching rainwater run-off, the particulars of wells and septic systems. They’re about to close on the place and Claire expresses all the usual concerns. We talk about work; the challenges of making a living as a writer in my case and the car business in hers. We talk about how laid back and small town Santa Fe feels after the big city rush-rush. Claire and her husband have two kids, both in college and have had their ups and downs in business. The past couple of years have included big changes for them. They’ve sold a big fancy home and if they’re like everyone else probably didn’t see the money they’d hoped for. I presume they pay tuitions for their kids. From her story I sense as a couple they have weathered the storms and hung in there together. This is something I love to see.

Looking forward to the new house, Claire tells me about it. It’s smaller, and lower key. The living room however is relatively large and open, full of possibilities. There’s a subtle but significant shift. The pitch of Claire’s voice drops and ditto her shoulders. She glances at me. “You know, life is getting… simpler.”

“And that is a good thing,” I respond.

“Yeah. It is.” she says.

Gordon Bunker