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Fake-swatting at him, the moment passed. They teased each other for a while, ordering another beer.
“So what’s next for you? I hear that you’re living life like you’re in a convent.”
“Oh god, it’s not that bad,” she said, laughing again. At least her cousin made her laugh. “I just work and putter around my house. This is nice, what we’re doing here. I might have to start going out with friends again. I just haven’t felt up to it, to tell you the truth.”
“His death really took the air out of everyone’s balloons,” Oliver empathized.
“How’s married life?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
He’d recently married a nurse he met after he got injured in a football game.
“It’s nice. We do our own thing for work, and then we come together when we’re home. I’m sorry you didn’t get to do that with Jake. But I feel like he wants you to move on, Sofia. He’d probably be upset that you’re not moving forward.”
“Like you said, it hasn’t even been a year yet. I’m not sure I want to go too far forward,” she whispered.
“Well, if the opportunity comes up, don’t let it pass you by, okay?”
Nodding in agreement, Sofia felt better than she had in months, as Jake’s spirit seemed to hover over them, pleased.
“Thank you so much, Oliver. If something happens, I won’t let it get away.”
They grasped hands as she made him the promise.
“I guess I’d better get back to work,” Sofia finally said, breaking the spell. “I’m doing a story about a guy in Escondido who rescues squirrels.”
“Get out of here, then,” Oliver said, laughing.
They walked out to the street together, promising to do it again soon, hugging warmly. She waved, walking back to her car, smiling. But when the weekend came again, and her friends who persistently asked her to come out with them called, she declined.
Chapter 1
At lunchtime, Sofia sat at a red light, waiting to make a left-hand turn into the shopping center. The car window was down and she could hear the surf in spite of the traffic noise. There was a storm out to sea, and the marine layer was quickly burning off, the hot sun trying to peek through the fog. A recurrent memory zipped through her mind, of Jake moaning with impatience, waiting for the haze to dissipate so he could surf.
While she waited, the memory dispelled when a guy with an empty Starbucks cup caught her eye, panhandling on the median, approaching cars, holding his cup out. Certain things about him were definitely noticeable; from the back, he was tall, well built, and from a distance seemed to be clean and clean-cut. Homeless people set her teeth on edge, and she decided that when she was finished, she’d take a different way out so she didn’t have to encounter him. She kept her eyes straight ahead after the light turned green so she didn’t have to make eye contact.
The one hour she allowed herself for lunch meant grabbing something fast when she didn’t bring anything from home. The cupboards were bare until she shopped after work that night, her normal routine. Friday nights meant grocery shopping, house cleaning, and TV. Yippee.
“No wonder I’m alone,” she murmured, pulling into Poki Poki, a relatively healthy fast place to eat.
She ordered her usual, a regular poki bowl with brown rice, tuna, avocado, cucumbers, seaweed and scallions.
“I’ll take a Diet Coke, too,” she said, a guilty pleasure.
There weren’t many diners yet, so she had a choice of tables, sitting down at one close to the door. For a change, she ate without staring at her phone, thinking about the lonely, empty weekend ahead. Making an icon of the weekends like most working people was difficult to do without a social life, but Sofia managed to, only wanting one thing, and that was not to have to get up in the morning. She’d outfitted her bedroom with blackout blinds, thermal drapes, an air filter and a noise machine, cancelling out the noise of a beach full of the small children of vacationing families active on a warm summer Saturday in Southern California.
The lunch crowd started to queue up at the counter, and she people watched for a while as she ate, the dining room filling quickly. The Coke was frosty and she was in mid swig, the can up to her lips, when he walked in, his haunting blue eyes looking around the place and skipping right by her.
That face. Black thick hair that looked recently cut, he had one lock that swept over his forehead. Grinning, to Sofia that hair looked intentional, like he’d combed it that way and sprayed it with hair spray so it wouldn’t move. But as if he were reading her mind, he ran his fingers through his hair to get it off his face, and that one lock fell over his forehead again. She started giggling.
There was a hint of five o’clock shadow on a chiseled jaw. At least six feet tall, he had a body that didn’t quit. The way he moved was slightly familiar, like she’d seen him that day, but she could not place him. He stood in line at the window and, with that familiar back to her, gave his order, a large bowl with white rice and spring mix, cucumber and avocado, tuna and salmon, and the rest was lost to her, because she finally recognized him. Grimacing, he was the panhandler. Even begging for money on the street, he’d had a commanding presence.
As he moved on down the line toward the cashier, Sofia couldn’t take her eyes off him, wondering if he’d just earned his lunch money on the street. Why would someone who looked like him and dressed like him have to beg? Something about him compelled her. Now she was intrigued, her former fear and judgment of the homeless disappearing. He picked up his tray of food and looked around at the full dining room. She was alone at a table for two, so what did she have to lose? Maybe it was her reporter’s instinct kicking in, either that or just nosiness, or something deeper, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but she wanted to meet him. And she had just this one chance.
“You can sit here if you’d like,” she boldly said, waving her hand.
He looked at her, and later she’d say that smile of his completely transformed his face.
“Thank you. I will if you’re sure.”
