She rushes back to their restaurant table. Bella and John are still seated, sipping drinks and watching the action. Grabbing her phone, Anna finds Seth’s number and dials,hoping he answers. Blowing out a breath when she hears his cheerful greeting, she explains the situation and answers his questions as best she can. When he asks about insurance, she puts the phone to the skateboarder’s ear. There is an exchange of information, and when the girl nods, Anna brings the phone back. She relays the hospital recommendation to James and he puts it into his rideshare app. Anna hopes there is a quick pickup for the girl’s sake. Then James gives her a nod. It’s done.
The crowd thins as the drama disappears. Anna is sure the lack of blood is instrumental in the lack of interest. As they move towards the pickup point, the skateboarder turns and protests, “My skateboard!”
Anna glances around and finds it on its side against a fence. She sweeps it around with her foot, stamps on the end like she has seen in the movies, and picks it up by the end but soon finds it threatening to slip from her fingers. She swaps hands and holds it by the wheels instead. It bangs against her body as they walk, but they don’t have far to go and before long, the ride appears. They belt their casualty in as best they can, laying the skateboard at her feet. Then they step back, James shuts the door, and the girl is gone.
James turns to Anna and offers his hand in a high five. She grins and meets his palm. After the awkwardness of this week, it feels good to be working together again. They return to the restaurant, their trust in each other restored far more by this little act than by a shared celebrity home bus trip and lunch at an international chain restaurant.
“Who was the guy on the phone?” James asks.
“Seth. You met him,” Anna reminds him. “At the conference dinner.”
They rejoin Bella and John at the table. Their absence has meant the seating has shifted slightly. Although Anna still sitsbeside Bella, James is now opposite her. To Anna, it’s a far superior seating arrangement.
“You were magnificent,” Bella breathes her praise, and in one instant James transforms from highly effective consultant to blushing schoolboy. “I knew I’d just be in your way, so I stayed right here keeping the table. I knew the two of you had it covered.”
The explanation makes sense, but Anna is still unimpressed. She shrugs it off, then remembers the last message from Tolly. She pulls out her phone to check, but there are no new messages on her lockscreen. Tolly must have been distracted again. She tucks the phone back into her pocket and sits, trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment following on from the tiny high she was riding a moment ago. She picks up her drink and takes a sip. The soda is warm and has lost its fizz too. All at once, she cannot be done with this lunch a moment too soon.
When the waiter returns to take their order – shrimp for all except John, who orders ribeye steak – Anna excuses herself with the need to wash her hands. She lingers in the restroom, checking out her hair and make-up until she can delay no longer. She can hear John’s voice even inside the restaurant as he regales James and Bella with a fantastical story of how he rescued a nubile young girl from imminent peril after she had been washed off a boat. The story dwelt longer on the way she had thanked him for his rescue than on the rescue itself. Anna’s own assessment is that the detail probably came from John’s personal wank bank. She cannot understand how the others just accept the implausible stories that come out of John’s mouth. Both Bella and James are clever people. How could they not see through his bullshit?
When she retakes her seat, she watches the people milling along the alley, always half waiting for the telltale vibrationagainst her thigh. But the buzz of an incoming message never arrives. When her meal is finished, she declines dessert. Instead, she pulls out a fistful of notes to cover her food and drops them on the table.
“Thanks for the trip, James. It was great. I’ve got to run now, but I’ll see you back at the hotel tonight.”
“Where are you off to?” John asks.
Anna debates quickly which of her two options is most likely to discourage John just in case he’s contemplating joining her. No contest. “Getty Centre,” she says.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Art museum.”
“We thought we’d do Universal Studios,” Bella says. “You’re welcome to come.”
Anna smiles a tight smile. “Been before.” No word of a lie.
She gives a jolly wave and walks away, the feeling of freedom momentarily lifting the frustration of not hearing from Tolly.
The museum is wonderful – the gardens, the architecture, the collection. But as she drifts around, for the first time in her life, she misses a companion. She wants to tell someone about it. Honestly, she wants to tell Tolly. She wants to point out the cleverness of the artwork or the sensitivity of the artist and she knows he would appreciate it all. He’d even have comments and insights of his own to add, except there is nothing but stubborn, unrelenting silence from him. The question he wanted to ask could not have been very important. Or perhaps itwasmedical and she should have added that smiley face emoji.
Remember Me
Back at the hotel, Anna debates what to do. She could see what Bella and James have planned, but that would invariably involve John, whom she would happily never see again. Or she can sit in her room pining over Tolly, or she can go down to the hotel bar and pick up a stranger and shag his brains out all night long.
Once upon a time, that last option might have been her preference, but either age or something else has taken effect because its appeal is even less than an evening with John. She contemplates putting on the television, but there is nothing she wants to watch and the news is probably still showcasing Tolly’s new role. She could go to dinner, but she isn’t hungry, probably because of the big meal at lunch. She could take in a show or stroll along the boardwalk at Venice Beach.
Or she can sit on the bed feeling vaguely miserable.
In the end, she takes a shower instead. As she washes off the sweat and grime of the day, she ponders calling home. Maybe this feeling is homesickness. She’s never experienced it before, but there’s a first time for everything. Then she remembers the time difference and decides a call will have to wait. When dry, she wraps herself in a dressing gown and goes to lie on the bed. Picking up her phone, she sighs. Did she accidentally say something stupid in her last text? Did autocorrect substitute a different, more insulting word?
She opens up the conversation. There is Tolly’s text asking to ask a question. There is her reply, joking about charging for medical advice.
But then, there is another question from Tolly.There’s a celebration party at my house tonight. Would you like to come? As my guest?
And there is her reply.No. And please don’t ever contact me again.
She sits bolt upright. Is she going mad? Has the app scrambled her messages? Then her brain reasserts itself. Or has her phone been hacked?
She thinks back. The only time her phone was out of her pocket this afternoon was at the restaurant. She’d left it on the table when she’d gone to the aid of the little boy. Left it with Bella and John.
