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“Born and raised. I lived here when this was a small town,” he says. “It’s still a small town in a lot of ways, but there are a helluva lot more people and a lot bigger buildings.”
He pulls off the highway and I feel a clinching in my chest as downtown Austin comes into view. I know this was the plan, but looking out the window at this strange city, it all seems so much crazier.
He points out the window, motions toward a skyscraper.
“That’s the Frost Bank Tower,” he says. “Used to be the tallest building in Austin. Now I’m not even sure it cracks the top five. Have you heard of it?”
“Can’t say I have,” I say.
“Yeah, crazy story behind it,” he says. “If you look at it from certain angles it looks like an owl. Exactly like an owl. Might be hard to see from here but it’s wild if you can make it out…”
I open my window and take in the Frost Building—the tiers on top, like ears, the two windows that look like eyes. There is definitely an owl similarity.
“This is a UT town, but the architects all went to Rice University and the owl is Rice University’s mascot. So that’s like a f-you to our mascot and to the Longhorns in general,” he says. “And I mean, some people say it’s just a conspiracy theory, but look at it. The building looks like an owl! How can that be an accident?”
He turns onto South Congress Bridge and I can see our hotel in the distance.
“Are you guys here looking at UT?” he asks. He directs the question toward Bailey, again trying to meet her eyes in the rearview.
“Not exactly,” she says.
“So… what are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer. She opens the window in an attempt to discourage further questions. I don’t blame her for that. I don’t blame her for not being particularly anxious to explain to a stranger why she is here—in a city she is trying to remember whether she’s been to before, searching for information about her missing father.
“Just fans of Austin,” I say.
“Right on,” he says. “A little vacay. I can get behind that.”
He pulls up to the hotel and Bailey is opening the door before the car even stops moving.
“Wait, wait! Let me give you my number. In case there is anything I can show you guys while you’re in town.”
“There isn’t,” Bailey says.
Then she shifts her bag higher on her shoulder. And starts walking toward the hotel’s entrance.
I grab the suitcases from the trunk, hurry to keep up. I catch up to her by the revolving doors.
“That guy was so annoying,” she says.
I start to say he was just trying to be friendly, but she isn’t interested in friendly. And since I have to pick my battles, I decide this isn’t going to be the one I choose.
We head into the hotel and I look around the lobby: high atrium, the bar, a Starbucks off to the side. Hundreds of rooms. Just the type of nondescript hotel I was hoping for, an easy place to get lost in. Except maybe I’m looking around a moment too long because a hotel employee catches my eyes.
She has a name tag on, AMY, her hair in a short bob.
We get in line at reception, but it’s too late. She walks over, a smile plastered to her face.
“Hi there,” she says. “I’m Amy, the hotel concierge. Welcome to Austin! Is there anything I can help you with while you’re waiting to check in?”
“We’re good. Unless you happen to have a map of the campus?” I say.
“Of UT-Austin?” she says. “Absolutely. I also could help set you up on a campus tour. And there is some outstanding coffee that you won’t want to miss when you head to that part of town. Are you coffee drinkers?”
Bailey eyes me as though it’s my fault Amy is hovering and jabbering on—and maybe she isn’t wrong. I did ask for a map as opposed to just telling chatty Amy to move along. But I want a map. I want to hold something in my hands that makes it seem a little more like I know what I’m doing.
“Can I set up a shuttle service to take you there?”
