Attention. It seems a simple thing to provide. Yet focus so easily falls victim to ear-buds, smartphones, status updates. Distraction, usually self-imposed, is justified in the name of efficiency, though sometimes it’s a response to the cacophony of excess sensory input. Like last night at the dinner table.

“Are you listening to me?” Jess asked, her tone burdened with the weight of those five words having become too regular a part of her vocabulary.

“Mm hmm,” Kev replied. He was not listening at all. He had tuned her out the moment she mentioned her mother. He didn’t care. Same regurgitation of the same frustration Jess had shared with him for almost two decades now. Her mother didn’t understand that Jess couldn’t just drop everything and drive forty-five minutes west to go dress shopping or couch shopping or wallpaper picking or coffee klatching or whatever whim her mother was currently experiencing. Jess had two young daughters to look after, both actively involved in dancing and theater and Girl Scouts and choir and birthday parties not to mention school and homework!

Kev knew the basics. Jess was busy. Her mother didn’t appreciate that. Or understand. Or was guilt-tripping her. Or some other tangential iteration of a theme that he had stopped caring about five minutes ago. He knew it was important for Jess to vent. She is a venter. She gots to get it all out. All.

He had suggested to her, early in their relationship and then again in the first years of their marriage, that she summarize her thoughts. Cut to the chase. Hit the highlights. He didn’t need all the details. Frankly, it was difficult for him to keep up. To pay attention. He didn’t suffer from attention deficit disorder, he just prioritized his time differently. He didn’t see the sense in wasting it listening to the minutiae of something he didn’t care about.

But Jess needed to vent in minutiae. And he loved Jess. So he let Jess vent. He simply avoided going along for the ride. But to Jess, venting meant nothing if the ventee wasn’t participating.

“What did I say?” Jess asked.

Oh, how Kev hated that question. It would be so easy to respond so inappropriately. It almost begged to be.

“Nothing of consequence, dear.”

“Way too much, hon.”

“The same thing for the fourth time, at my last count.”

“I thought you knew; I do not care in the least.”

But he loved Jess. He really did. He even found her need for excessive verbosity adorable. So long as he didn’t actually have to listen. Which he didn’t. Exactly.

Kev scanned. He read other things, a magazine, the mail, or listened to a song or the TV, or simply thought about things that needed to be done. Making a little mental list in his head. That was what he was doing right now. He had heard everything that came out of Jess’s mouth, just hadn’t actively retained most of it. He listened for key words or phrases. Like dates and expectations of him to go do something with his mother-in-law. He hadn’t heard any of those key words this time. Anyway, he didn’t think so.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, trying to buy time. Jess was having none of it.

“Being present is a gift,” she said. Jess loved that one. The pun and all. Kev had to actively strain to keep his eyes from rolling.

“Of course,” he said. “Sorry.”

But really, he wasn’t.

Pay attention. The expression is so commonplace it loses its none-too-subtle implication. Attention comes at a cost. A price is to be paid, be it your time, effort, or concentration to the situation at hand or consequences may be suffered as a result.

The very next day, Kev was at his desk at work, multi-tasking. Jess was on the speaker phone, Kev was putting a report together while also scanning emails. Someone who promised him some information won’t be able to get it until tomorrow. Is that okay? Well, not really. Kev may have to get creative or use some alternative data source.

Jess was going on about a dance show for one of the girls. The costume. The make-up. The shoes. The dates and times. The venue and parking. A red light on Kev’s phone lit up, indicating that someone else is calling. Kev recognized the number and let it go to voicemail. His report mocked him with its lack of data while his wife ironically spilled forth with more and more.

She has moved on to tell Kev about the lunch she had with her mother. How glad her mother was that she had finally found the time to fit her into Jess’s busy schedule. Then there was the menu. Every single option. The waitress. Her attitude. Her hairstyle. Her shoes. The soup du jour. The fabulous dessert, but oh, the conditions in the ladies room … not so pleasant. Another email popped up from a co-worker asking about lunch tomorrow.  As Kev answered the email, Jess asked him a question. He didn’t really hear the question itself, just the question mark in the tone in her voice. He had no idea what she’d been talking about. He started to consider how to respond.

Kev wasn’t paying attention. Busted once again.

A story is but a snapshot of the actual event. Kev is willing to settle for a stick drawing. Jess insists upon providing a full-color, artist rendering in 3D. “So you can better appreciate the moment,” she would explain. And since Kev had a track record of distraction, Jess feels the need to repeat certain key elements to ensure that they get through.

Kev doesn’t think Jess is wrong for her excessive verbosity. That’s the way she’s wired. As a consumer of information, she is ravenous. Lots of research prior to any decision. Any. He, on the other hand, tends to just follow his gut. Likewise, Jess provides TMI whereas Kev is succinct. Too much so, if you ask her. Frustratingly concise, apparently. Kev does not believe one is right, the other wrong, just that they’re different. Very different.

One time in the car, Jess was going on and on about something and Kev casually reached for the volume on the radio and turned it down.

Except the radio wasn’t on.

He was so busted.

And now this. Jess had asked a specific question and Kev had to fess up that he wasn’t paying attention. He could already hear the lecture. “Being present is a gift.” Only, like five more minutes of that kind of thing. With some repetition.

But he was in luck. Jess kept going! In fact, she didn’t miss a beat! At first, Kev thought, whew! Bullet dodged, when it hit him: he had become so distracted in his multi-tasking that he had forgotten if he had called home or was checking voicemail messages. It could be either scenario. Jess was going on about the lawn service bill now.

So, Kev tried this crazy tactic: he started listening to what she was saying. Who knows, maybe that would help.

She’d moved on to a litany of dinner options, noting in each case potential issues due to lack of either groceries or preference by the girls. Meatloaf, but we’d need to get meat. Pasta, but Katie just had mac-n-cheese for lunch. Pizza, but Becca wants thin crust, not deep dish. After what seemed an eternity, she asked another question. Here was his in, his dilemma resolved.

Kev answered the question.

Jess didn’t seem to hear him. She maintained full blather. Kev tried to break into the conversation but she talked right over him. How rude! Kev thought, taking a little offense. Then he noticed that the mute button was lit up on the phone. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hello, can you hear me?”

Jess replied cheerfully, “Okay, well, think about it and call me back when you can.” And hung up.

It was voicemail.

Now it was time to pay his debt. Kev hit replay and listened for important data he would be expected to know before returning the call. As he endured the four minute message again, Kev realized that he could have saved himself the extra effort.

If only he had paid attention.