Anywhere But Here, Chapters 61–63
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This novel is an experiment in fiction + serial posting on Medium. I wrote the first draft during NaNoWriMo 2012.
Chapters 1–3 | Chapters 4–6 | Chapters 7–9 | Chapters 10–12 | Chapters 13–15 | Chapters 16–18 | Chapters 19–21 | Chapters 22–24 | Chapters 25–27 | Chapters 28–30 | Chapters 31–33 | Chapters 34–36 | Chapters 37–39 | Chapters 40–42 | Chapters 43–45 | Chapters 46–48 | Chapters 49–50 | Chapters 51–53 | Chapters 54–57 | Chapters 58–60
Chapter 61: Sandra
No matter what she tried to focus on, Sandra couldn’t help thinking that Emily was with Drew and that Drew was in San Francisco. As much as she wanted to be mad at him, her heart hurt knowing she wasn’t invited. She wished that she could be with them, in the same car, going anywhere.
Dana distracted her though, with a list of three sublets to look at after work today. The first was in the Mission, the second near Alamo Square, and the third in Hayes Valley. They were all near the top of her price range but met the list of requirements.
Sandra sneaked out of work a bit early, rushing home to get to her car, which mercifully would have to be moved the next day for street cleaning again. She wondered if garage parking was too much to ask for a sublet. She should ask Dana how she kept track of where her car was parked & street cleaning day. She thought for a moment that someone should create a company that had an application you could use for parking ticket avoidance, and then laughed. Evidently she had startup company ideas in her blood too.
She had an appointment at 5:30 to see the first place in Alamo Square, which seemed to be nearby. She had printed a map of directions to lead her to and from each place. She glanced at the map briefly. Bless Dana! She had scheduled her appointments so they led from place to place without backtracking, each leading further south. First stop, Alamo Square, a building on Hayes between Steiner and Fillmore. She circled for ten minutes, finally finding parking. Maybe she would ask for garage parking and give up Starbucks lattes. She checked the address and approached a stately looking Victorian, painted white with pale and dark blue trim. Not in great condition, but not neglected. She checked the address, which wasn’t one of the numbers on the two front doors. She looked around a bit further, until a man with wild bushy brown hair that otherwise looked clean approached her. “Are you Sandra?” he asked.
“Yes…” Sandra said, cautiously.
“Here to see the flat?”
“Yes.” She was wondering whether to follow this guy by herself. She looked for knife indentations in his ill-fitting khakis.
“The entrance is around to the side, it’s a converted basement,” the man said.
Sandra took one peek through the side door, at a completely cluttered room with papers towering from floor to ceiling, more dark and dismal than Emily’s room at Parker’s. It looked nothing like the pictures.
“I don’t think this will work,” Sandra said quickly, “Thank you for your time.” She turned and walked back to her car.
“One down, I suppose,” she said to herself. Maybe the next one will be better.
The next stop was Haight Street between Laguna and Buchanan. Sandra didn’t find parking any quicker than the previous stop, and approached a tidy white two story Victorian. She checked the address, labeled on one of the doors, and knocked.
A pretty, trim woman opened the door wearing stretchy yoga clothes, perhaps a few years younger than Sandra. “I’m Sandra, here about the sublet?” Sandra offered.
“Great, thanks, come in,” the woman said, “I’m Megan. Let me show you around.” They walked through the front door into a lit, white hallway.
“It’s a condo, my boyfriend and I bought it a few years back. It was so dark and dingy, I painted the hallway bright white and added more lights. Come around the corner and I’ll show you the rest.”
Two bedrooms, painted white with plain, wood shaker-style furniture were at the back of the flat, with a spacious front room and small attached kitchen.
“Is it just you?” Megan asked.
“Yes, and my daughter, who’s fourteen.” Sandra didn’t see anything she didn’t like about this place, except with all the light colored furniture she’d have to really clean to keep Orbit’s presence from being known.
An orange tabby cat meowed at her feet, rubbing around her ankles. “Oh!” Megan said, “I hope you don’t mind cats. He’s going to stay with friends while we’re gone in September.”
“Really? We could watch him if you want?” Sandra realized that sounded presumptuous, and still didn’t want to gamble and mention Orbit.
“Thanks, I’ll think about it. I have another person coming tonight to look at the place. What do you think?” Megan asked.
Sandra glanced around again, although she already knew she liked it. The location was central regardless of which school Emily went to, and it was close enough to downtown for work. “This could work for us. I have one more place to see after this, can I call you later this evening?”
“Yes, great.”
Sandra found her car, and drove ten minutes to reach the next place on Guerrero and 22nd Streets. She turned right onto Guerrero, the street rising and falling in hills before her. She circled the block once before finding parking, waiting while a parked car vacated the space. It looked decent enough from the outside, and was close to Mission High School so Emily could walk. She found the address and walked up a set of dark steps to a door on the second floor. She rang the bell and a unkempt woman answered the door, yawning.
“Sorry, I just woke up, are you Sandra?”
“Yes, here about the sublet?” Sandra was beginning to feel repetitive, and wondered why this woman would be taking a nap at dinnertime.
“Good, good, have a look around.”
The apartment was dark, which wasn’t helped by the feeble lights, and dark forest green paint on the walls. A college-student style futon sofa occupied most of the small living room, with piles of magazines serving as end tables.
Even after living at Parker’s, and acclimating to smaller and darker rooms, this wouldn’t work. Sandra also felt that taking even one month sublet this close to the school Emily didn’t want was cursing herself. “Thanks,” she told the woman, “But I don’t think this will work.”
Sandra left and walked outside, seeing an Irish Pub across the street, decided to have a glass of wine at the bar instead of heading back to an empty flat and trying not to think about Drew or Emily. She took a seat at the bar and cringed. The lowest wine price on the menu was $12. She didn’t realize she was frowning at the menu until the bartender offered, “The house red is $8 for happy hour.”
“Yes, please.” She felt anything other than happy, but the price was better. Sandra looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, partially obscured by bottles of whiskey. She thought she had new lines around her eyes, but not from laughing, she thought. She felt old for 36, too old to start over and to find someone new to love in the vacant space once Emily left in four years for college. She finished her glass and asked for the check. She wanted to get home and call about the place in Hayes Valley. Dana was right, a one month commitment was the longest she could do right now.
Chapter 62: Emily
When Emily came out of the restroom at Starbucks, her Dad was on the phone, chatting amicably. “Great, great, I appreciate this buddy, you know I’ll take care of her this weekend.”
Her? Emily wondered. What her was Dad taking care of this weekend? Jealousy and anger zapped through her, absorbing fragile happiness.
“Listen, my daughter’s back, but I’ll catch up soon, and thanks again.”
Emily tried not to glare at her Dad, wanting to hide her upset. Great, now she’d have to share the weekend with someone else.
“Well! I have a surprise for you.” Drew said, excited, he hadn’t noticed the glare.
“What?” Emily didn’t mean for it to come out so sharply.
“You were serious about the sailboat, I hope?”
“Sailboat?” Oh great, she’d have to share her dad with some woman on a sailboat?
“Yeah, sailboat. I just called an old sailing friend, and he has a small boat he docks near here. He’s letting us borrow it for the weekend.”
“We’re going to spend the weekend on a sailboat? Are you supposed to sleep on them?”
Drew laughed, “Yes, Emi, you can sleep on them, and cook, and eat, and even take a shower if you’re small enough.”
“So who’s coming with us then? On the boat?”
“Nobody, Emi, it’s just us. Why would you think that?”
“You said her, you’d take care of her this weekend.”
“Her? Oh!” Drew laughed again, “Emi, I meant the boat. Sailboats are always female.”
“Oh,” Emily said, smiling at her naiveté. “You know how to sail?”
“Like riding a bike, I’m sure I’ll remember. Are you ready?”
“Yeah!”
They headed back south down 101 towards San Francisco, and exited at Sausalito. As they drove to the harbor, Emily could see sunlight twinkling off windows of San Francisco buildings downtown on the unusual clear afternoon. Drew parked in the adjacent lot, and found a lock box on a metal gate barring the entrance to the sailboats. He checked the locks until finding one labeled “Alberts” and twisted the letters around for the code. The keys inside opened the gate. They walked down a sturdy platform between boats, until stopping at a tidy white fiberglass sailboat about twice the length of Emily’s dungeon bedroom. The back of the boat read “Starlight” in cursive blue letters.
Her dad held on to a metal rail on the edge of the boat, then jumped on board, turning around to give Emily a hand up. The boat swayed precariously as she jumped. She wondered how cold the water would be if she fell in. It had to be easier to stay afloat here than at the beach.
Up close, the borrowed sailboat wasn’t impressive to Emily, but her Dad looked at it appreciatively. “His baby, for sure,” her dad said, “everything clean and no rust anywhere.”
Emily walked down a few steps into the belly of the sailboat, swaying as the boat rocked on the water. It had a brown, doll-sized kitchen, and a small room with a bed occupying most of the space. She wondered if they had to share a bed, when her Dad pointed out the dining area also made into a bed once the table was removed. “There’s a bathroom somewhere,” he said, opening doors.
Emily opened each kitchen cabinet, discovering one disguised a refrigerator. Three cans of sprite and a bottle of beer were inside. About as impressive than Parker’s refrigerator with the vodka bottle and olives.
“Dad, there’s no food.”
“Has your cooking improved?”
Emily shook her head no. “Let’s eat dinner at the clubhouse. The less we eat here, the less we have to clean up.”
“Sounds good to me!”
“Before we begin our charter voyage, let’s get snacks.” They walked down from the dock a short while until they reached the broad walkway along the edge of the water. “It’s so pretty from here,” Emily said.
“The city?” Drew asked.
“Yeah.” Emily wondered if she should tell her Dad about her adventures, or if her Dad would get mad at her Mom again.
“I guess so.”
“Dad, why don’t you like the city? Didn’t you like it when you lived here?”
“Emi, it’s a long story involving friends and betrayal and …” Drew trailed off. “Maybe it’s time to get over it. I was 22.” He looked somewhere over her shoulder, into the distance.
He got that look that meant ‘don’t ask.’ They found a convenience store and stocked up on chips, soda, cookies, and beer for her dad. All the things, Emily mused, her mom never bought.
Back on the boat, her Dad showed Emily how to stow away her duffle bag on a top shelf so that if the boat rocked, it wouldn’t end up on the floor, or worse, he said, smacking you on the head when you least expect it. Before she could object, he had pulled up the rope attaching them to the dock, and was powering on the motor. “Maybe we could hang out at the dock for a while?” Emily said, “it looks like it might rain.”
“Emie, the sky couldn’t get more blue. Cold feet?”
“Maybe? Are you sure this will float?”
“It’s already floating at the dock, remember?”
“But what if it falls over?”
“Capsize? Unlikely. Sailboats are made to tip.” Her dad powered on the motor. “Your job is to go to the front and make sure I don’t hit anything on the way out.”
“Sailboats have motors? I thought they only had sails? And how am I supposed to get up to the front?”
“Sailboats have motors and sails. I suggest crawling to the front so you don’t fall over,” Drew responded.
Her dad fired off a dozen sailing terms: port, starboard, mast, jib, and something called a spinnaker, but they flew in and out of Emily’s head like algebraic functions. Emily savored the comfort of her dad’s voice, in person, talking about something he loved.
Once they were past the dock, she crawled back to the giant steering wheel her Dad was holding. “Ready for ‘someday,’ Emie? You’re about to sail!”
Before Emily could decide, her dad cut the motor, then told her to hold the wheel. “I can’t…” she started to say, but her dad was already crawling to the front of the boat.
“But, Dad….!”
“Just grab the wheel, and hold it steady. There’s not a lot of wind, but once it catches we may rock a bit.”
He untied something that sent the big sail above her up towards the sky, the wind pushing it full and open.
“Whoa!” The boat tipped and rocked, and Emily feared she’d failed already.
“Nothing like this!” Drew exclaimed to Emie and the San Francisco Bay.
“But Dad, it’s tipping!”
“It’s supposed to, remember, just move the wheel slowly to correct and we’ll be fine.”
Her dad moved around different parts of the boat, poking, prodding, and untying different things on the boat. Suddenly the rocking stopped and they were smoothly moving over the surface of the water. “Want me to take the wheel now?”
“P-p-please.”
“You’re not worried, are you? You did fine! There are some challenging places for sailing in the bay, let’s hope I can avoid them.”
Right then, Emily wished she could call Livie and tell her about this adventure. She felt a small void where her mom would be, but smaller than expected, the space filled by the obvious joy of her dad and being with him. Even months before the move, she couldn’t remember when she last saw him this enthusiastic.
“Where do you want to go, Emi?” Drew called, “How about Santa Barbara, or Hawaii? Maybe the Philippines?”
“That’s ambitious for a weekend, Dad,” but Emily smiled.
“Okay, you’re right. Have you ever wanted to see under the Bay Bridge?”
“I’d never thought it was possible?”
“Today, everything is possible!” he called into the wind.
Everything? Emily wondered.
They sailed past Alcatraz Island, Angel Island, and around the front of the Embarcadero. “See that trolley car, Dad?” Emily couldn’t resist pointing at the antique yellow vehicle moving along the edge of the street.
“Yeah,” he called.
“I took that with my friend Livie all along the Embarcardero to Pier 39. It was wicked cool!”
“Livie sounds like a lot of fun.”
“She is, Dad! I want you to meet her.” Maybe her Dad wouldn’t freak out at their unsupervised adventures after all? Emily thought. “But I have to warn you…”
“Oh no. What?”
“Livie has pink hair.”
Her dad laughed, surprising Emily. “Is that the worst of it? I thought pink hair was the norm here, especially for teenagers?”
“Not for me,” Emily smiled. “I’m fine with boring brown.”
“Brown hair, Emi-bear, is not boring,” he said, “on you it’s pretty.”
Emily blushed, then sat back on the deck of the boat as her dad navigated around the edge of the city until they sailed under the bridge. That the gray steel beams could support that many cars was astounding. They rounded the curve of the city until her Dad saw the baseball park, lights full and bright in the late afternoon. “A Giants game! This is my lucky day!” Drew exclaimed. “Let’s find a place where we can hope for a fly ball.”
Emily was usually bored by baseball, but not today.
Chapter 63: Sandra
The upcoming Improv class at work was the one thing that kept Sandra from not obsessively worrying. Much. She had called about the sublet on Hayes, and the owner, Megan, said she’d be delighted if Sandra took it. “I trust my gut,” Megan had said, “and my gut says you’re a good choice.”
Sandra wished she knew how to trust her gut. “I do have to ask you something,” Sandra started, almost regretting the words. Maybe it was best to sneak Orbit into the place after she got it.
“Sure, what?”
“How firm are you on no pets? My daughter has a cat, and with my husband and I separated, I hate to leave it with someone else.”
Megan went silent for a moment. “Can you bring your cat over? If your cat and my cat get along okay, and you’re willing to watch my cat as well, it’s okay with me.”
The cat date was set up for tomorrow morning, which made Sandra laugh. She didn’t have dates, but her cat did. Only in San Francisco, she thought.
It was nearing time for the facilitators from Improv4All to show up, making Sandra so nervous she went to the bathroom three times, and into the kitchen twice, opening cupboards and grazing on snacks she didn’t want.
“Sandra! Stop it!” Dana exclaimed, “You’re making me nervous, too. It will be fine, I promise, and even if it sucks, so what? We wasted $500? We spend more on lunch in a week. I thought you liked Improv?”
“I love Improv, and the facilitators were great last weekend, but what if nobody else likes it?”
“You are not responsible for everyone else. Got that? You are not responsible for Bryson,” Dana pointed across the room, “or for Hillary,” she pointed again, “or anyone else in this room except yourself. They’re adults. They’ll either play or not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Now lighten up, the Improv people are here.” Sandra looked across the room at Bryan, the man who lead her class last week who was chatting with another man that looked like... Oh no, Sandra thought, it is David, coffee with a side of French Gibberish. What was he doing here? She rushed over to them.
“Sandra, great to see you! Thanks for having us! Do you remember David from last weekend?” Bob asked.
“Yes,” Sandra said, feeling unexpected blush of embarrassment crawl up her neck. David leaned over and kissed her once on each cheek, as the blush crawled up her face.
“Good to see you again,” he smiled. Was his smile seductive, or was she imagining things? Was she too young for hot flashes?
“Good, good. Where will we be?”
“What?” Sandra looked back at Bryan.
“Where will we have the class?”
“We don’t have a conference room big enough for everyone, so I thought in the open space by the kitchen? Will that work?” Why was David here? Seriously, was she having a hot flash?
“That works.”
She heard Dana announce over the speakerphones on all of the desks, “Improv starts now, folks, get over here and be prepared for fun!” Sandra would have to ask how she did that on the phones.
Most people came quickly, with a few stragglers that got forcibly dragged away from typing on their laptops by Dana. Sandra heard, “but I’m fixing a bug!” from one of the programmers, followed by Dana saying, “yep and I’m going to squish it and your laptop if you don’t walk away now. Nobody will fix that bug while you are away.”
Sandra hastily introduced David and Bryan when Dana poked her. Fortunately, Bryan took the lead from there. “We’ll start with a few ice breakers, which don’t involve breaking ice, real or imagined.” A few people chuckled.
“Pretend I’m holding a ball,” Bob held his arms wide. “And this ball makes a sound as I pass it. Your task is to take the ball from me,” he gestured to the person on his right, “and repeat my sound, then make your own sound and pass the ball to the person on your right, now, go!” made a boooo-whip! noise and tossed the imaginary ball. “Bew-whip!” the guy on his right said, followed by “eeehhh-chew!” and then “grr-chow!” Around the circle the imaginary ball went, with noises that surprised even the person saying them.
Sandra knew, sort of, that she wasn’t responsible for these people having fun, but she felt relieved anyway as people laughed and played along.
By the end of the two-hour event, Sandra didn’t care at all whether anyone else was happy. She was happy. She was one head in a three-headed expert game, she played a small child in a playground scene. She had stopped worrying, obsessing, and planning for the first time since she’d started at HealthCo. She surrendered fully to being the character in each scene.
David had stopped her after the event, complimenting her contribution. “I don’t suppose you’d meet me for a drink later?” he asked. “We could move on from French gibberish to Swedish?”
Sandra shook her head no, “Sorry, I’m married. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Was she really married? She’d never signed the divorce papers, so she was still legally married. She wondered what Drew and Emily were doing.
“We could go anyway? One drink? It’s not like foreign gibberish is foreplay.” he looked at the ground. “Did I really just say that?”
Sandra giggled, thinking, it was almost as dangerous as foreplay. “Maybe another time?” I’m turning down this hot man to stay by myself at home tonight. What the heck are you thinking?
All the HealthCo employees thanked Sandra on the way out, telling her that was the most fun they’d had at work, ever. She didn’t know if she was doing her job correctly, but at least she was making an impact. She knew with certainty that she had to get back into Improv or acting, maybe both. There was no reason, except maybe money, she couldn’t take a weekly class. She wondered how many classes she could get out of selling her car.
The afterglow lingered as she walked from the bus stop to Parker’s, wondering if anyone would be home, or if it was another date with Orbit. Why did she tell David no? It would be more lonely, she thought, than last night, that followed a rather ordinary day. She could always go for a walk down Fillmore, or drive around the city, but what she most wanted to do was pour a glass of red, sip and do nothing. She just preferred not to do that alone.
She opened the door, and heard laughing coming from the kitchen. She walked back and saw Parker and Ben sword fighting with vegetables. “Parker, your carrot is not much of a match for Ben’s zucchini,” she laughed.
Both men looked at her, curiously. She blushed, realizing what she’d said.
“Oh really?” Parker replied. “Grab a veggie and be prepared to defend yourself!” Parker exclaimed while blocking a blow.
Sandra looked on the counter at an onion, can of tomatoes, and an eggplant, and quickly decided on the eggplant. “Worthy foes, be prepared to defend your honor, or at least your produce!” She swung wide and wildly, brandishing the eggplant. “Run like screaming children, back to your dark caves!” The two men looked at each other, nodding, and attacked with full force on their new common enemy. Sandra met their attack, and grabbed the nearest vegetable, an onion, and smashed it on the counter, releasing its pungent smell. The men choked on laughter. “If I cannot win by force, I will stink you out!” Sandra exclaimed, her voice booming and deep.
“I surrender!” Parker exclaimed. He turned to Ben. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll surrender too!”
“I surrender, I surrender, just contain your onion!” Ben said, waving his free hand in front of his nose. “I have relinquished my zucchini, please take pity on my sense of smell.”
“I accept your surrender, and declare myself the Onion Overlord,” Sandra laughed.
“So, is the plan still to cook with these vegetables?” they looked at the bruised, broken pile.
“The only thing those are good for now is broth,” Sandra said.
Parker turned to Ben, “Delivery or walk to Fillmore?”
“I’m up for a walk, if you are?” Ben replied. “Sandra, will you join us?”
“Would love to.”
Sandra grabbed her wallet and coat. They were up the block when she remembered her phone was on the counter, so she didn’t hear her phone ring promptly at 8:30. She also didn’t know that Emily was calling because Drew wanted to talk to her.
The adventures of Sandra and Emily will continue as soon as I edit the next three chapters.
Thanks for reading!
