Anywhere But Here, Chapters Ch 34–36
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AWBH is an experiment in fiction + serial posting on Medium. I wrote the first draft during NaNoWriMo 2012.
Leave me highlights and notes on what you like, and tell me when things don’t make sense.
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 | Chapters 61–63
Chapter 34: Emily
Wednesday morning, Emily was out the door, on the bus, and en route to meet Livie at the library by 10AM. She’d finished one of the two teen fantasy books she’d checked out under Livie’s library card. She arrived an hour early, settling down on the floor of the teen center to wait for her new, burgundy haired friend.
She had brought the last book in the trilogy to read, and stared blankly at the first page. She shut the book, and decided to try Livie’s instructions on meditating.
Focus on a word, as you breathe slowly in and out. Is that what Livie said? Emily thought. She closed her eyes, then inhaled and exhaled. Had she ever tried to breathe on purpose before? Breathing was just something that happened. One, two, three, she counted silently, breathing in, then, three, two one, breathing out. Maybe it’s okay if I just count, instead of repeating a word? Emily thought. But then the thoughts began, jumbled fragments. Maybe I have to say a word, or it won’t work; maybe this is messed up; maybe this is pointless. Yes,of course this is pointless, I am sitting here talking to myself. On purpose. Livie said if I started thinking too much to go back to the word. But I don’t have a word, I just have counting to three. I will never get this right. But it’s breathing, how can I get breathing wrong? I’m done, this is crazy, why do people do this? Emily opened her eyes, looking around the library.
“How’s it going?” Livie asked.
“Wha…? Oh, hey Livie.”
“You were meditating, weren’t you! I’m so excited!”
“Failing miserably is more like it.”
“There is no failing in meditation.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“Did your brain decide to have a thought party?”
“You could say that, and I didn’t pick a word, I counted.”
“Cool, that works too.”
“It’s okay?”
“There is no wrong way to meditate,” Livie said, “But enough of that, are you up for an adventure today?”
“Adventure?”
“Yes, parrot, adventure.”
“I think my mom would be mad if I left the city,” Emily said.
“It’s an adventure in the city,” Livie responded, “there is plenty of adventure in San Francisco.”
“Um, okay.”
“Don’t get too excited or anything,” Livie smiled, and Emily thought her hair looked a bit more magenta than burgundy today. “Follow me.”
They walked out of the library, and down to Market Street, where Livie crossed to a narrow island of concrete in the middle of the road, and stopped. Cars sped past, and Emily wondered if they were a target for drivers with road rage.
“Well, are you going to ask?”
“Um…”
“Let’s we’ll play reverse twenty questions. I’ll give you answers and you guess the question.”
Livie has to be the strangest girl I’ve ever met, Emily thought, as cars raced by.
“Ready?” Emily nodded. “Answer #1: Fisherman’s Wharf, via the Embarcadero.”
“Where are we going?”
“Correct! Answer #2: via the F-line.”
“How are we getting there?”
“Excellent! Want another answer?”
“Sure,” Emily stepped back as a blue Nissan came close to the platform.
“#3: A part of the transit system, but not a bus.”
“What are we taking?”
“Close. The question is: What is the F-line?”
“So what is the F-line if it’s not a bus?”
“It’s a kind of trolley car. But I’m asking the questions! Just kidding … here it comes now.”
Chapter 35: Sandra
Creating a new hire process was surprisingly easier than she expected, when it boiled down to the tasks that would have made her first week easier. Computer set up for her; phone setup; desk location; expectations of her arrival & introductions to the office. A lot of it hinged around the IT setup, but talking to Tad was like getting an elephant to waltz. Sandra didn’t know the first thing about what was needed to get a computer set up. Tad begrudgingly said yes to her help, and put a pile of unopened laptop boxes on her desk.
Dana saw and dragged Tad into a conference room, where everyone could still hear them screaming. Dana yelled, “You bitch so much about not wanting to do this part, see if Sandra can help you! All you have to do is make a list of what you do every time you get a notice of a new hire from me, and walk her through it.”
“Fine, whatever!” He shouted back. Tad spent fifteen minutes with Sandra, after making a great production out of creating admin accounts for her on the hosted email and hosted phone system websites, with a stern lecture that if she messed up either he would be pointing a finger at her to blame.
Does he have to be such a jerk? Sandra wondered. She meticulously took notes as Tad ran through the web page set up, hoping she captured everything.
Sandra took her notes and created a step-by-step checklist of tasks that needed to be complete and by whom. She showed the list to Dana who praised her as a saint. “Dana, how much notice do you usually get before someone is hired?”
“A week or two if I’m lucky, but usually a few days.”
“Do you think Cesco would agree to have new hires start on the same day of the week — I was thinking Tuesday would be better than a Monday.”
“That’s a great idea! I am always swamped on Monday morning. Then we’d at least have Monday’s manager meeting to review new hires and make sure we have everyone.”
“And the new hire has a short first week…”
“That would be good too. This list is great. Have you thought about a team activity?”
“No, but I’m starting my research today. What do you think the budget for this could be?” Sandra asked.
“How about $50 per person, once a month?”
“In the office, right?”
“Yeah, we don’t want people running all over San Francisco.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
By the end of the day Sandra felt she and Internet search were bonded by the rigor of typing. Her initial list had a dozen tourist-like activities that all happened outside the office: scavenger hunt, cable car tours, lunch at a restaurant outside. Out of desperation she typed San Francisco comedy in the search engine, thinking of a comedy show or performance that could be done onsite and a flash of brilliance struck. She dashed over to Dana’s desk: “What about Improv?!” Sandra enthused.
“Like comedy?”
“In my college theater classes we warmed up for rehearsals by doing improvisational games. I found a couple companies in the city that will do onsite improv classes.”
“That is eff-ing brilliant!” Dana responded. “Is the cost within the budget?”
“I think so; let me call around and get more info. Maybe I can find somewhere that will do the first onsite class at a reduced rate.”
“Perfect. Keep bargain hunting and report back!”
Sandra found a dozen companies in the bay area offering improv classes, but Improv4All offered sessions targeted to companies. “Bust yourself on planning and judging,” the speaker in the video enthused, sparkling with humor and enthusiasm. “I am sure all of you are good at planning, but that keeps you from being open and experiencing the moment!” Sandra closed her eyes, remembering the circle of actors warming up before her last college performance of Chicago.
Sandra thought of the plan she had to move to San Francisco, and how nothing that happened had been part of her plan. Ridiculously and tragically so. She knew that even if this class didn’t get approved as a weekly team building activity, that she was signing up for a class if she could afford it. She’d never eat out again if it meant she could regain the tickle of hope she felt when watching the video of class participants playing improv games. Yes, Sandra, you can do this, she told herself. You don’t have Drew to tell you no anymore.
Chapter 36: Emily
A bright yellow, ancient looking trolley car clacked and clamored down the street. With a bell-like clang and a groan, the trolley stopped next to them. Emily was happy to see, that unlike the well known red San Francisco cable cars, this vehicle was fully enclosed even though it was attached to rails on the street. “So we’re taking this to Fisherman’s Wharf?” Emily asked as she followed Livie onto the trolley.
“Sort of, it travels in the direction of Fisherman’s Wharf,” Livie said, “Do you have your Muni transfer?” Emily nodded. “Good, you can use that on here.”
The car was about half full, mixed with people wearing jeans and coats while others shivered in shorts and t-shirts. With a lurch and another clang, the trolley moved forward, banging down the street like a kid at his first tuba lesson. It was absurd and magical; that in the middle of a busy, very busy street, a bright yellow trolley car, built in Italy in 1924, Emily read on the wall, would be rolling down Market Street.
“Do you want the window so I can protect you from the dangerous tourists?” Livie teased. “No, seriously, trade with me.”
They switched seats, squeezing between each other. Emily glanced outside through the dusty window, seeing blanket covered mounts next to over-stuffed silver grocery carts. On one mound, a dirty hand held tightly to the leg of a cart. “There are people under there?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Livie answered. “It’s the thing in this city that makes me sad.”
Emily didn’t respond, looking at more blanket mounds. Even the dungeon at Parker’s was better than sleeping on the street.
“Powell Street!” the driver announced in a deep cartoon-animated voice, as the trolley car clanged to another stop.
The scene outside shifted from disrepair to new, clean, and gorgeous retail store fronts with towering glass windows and posters of semi-naked gorgeous men and women advertising clothing. The buildings grew towering heights, new constructs of steel and glass with shorter brick and mortar neighbors. The trolley stopped again at Montgomery Street, where retail stores disappeared; replaced completely by towering office buildings and coffee shops.
After another stop at Embarcadero, most of the buildings shrank to a few stories, except for near-identical towers that Livie said were Embarcadero One, Two, and Three.
Emily’s eyes widened with awe as the trolley took two abrupt turns, and slivers of glimmering water of the bay appeared between the buildings along the piers. The trolley paused in front of a low building lined with restaurants and topped by a large clock tower.
“The Ferry Building,” Livie said, “Behind there, the ferry lines take commuters and tourists back and forth from Marin.”
“A ferry line? Now that would be an adventure!”
“Really?” Livie grinned. “Let’s put that on your list.”
“My list?”
“Yes, your personal List of Somedays. All the things you’d like to do, well, Someday!”
Until today, the only thing I would have on such a list was to move back home, she thought. But she had to admit this was a glorious ride.
“The best dollar tour of San Francisco, although the adult fare is more. We’re not done yet though!”
The last of the people in suits had departed at Embarcadero; the trolley was now full of people wearing shorts and covered in goosebumps. Foreign accents harmonized to a light buzz in the air, but what Emily found most odd was how many people wore San Francisco sweatshirts.
“Tourists come to SF in the summer expecting Hollywood skies and warmth, and don’t pack any clothing thicker than a t-shirt. The sweatshirt vendors make a killing in the summer, and so do the blanket vendors at the Giants’ Stadium when the wind picks up from the bay!”
Emily didn’t watch baseball, as many times as her Dad had tried to get her to watch, but knew who the Giants were. If she ever did go, maybe she’d wear a Giants shirt just for him. He was in India now in a city called Mumbai, he said, and laughed when she asked him what time it was there. “I’m thirteen hours ahead, Emi-bear, so it’s 9:35 in the morning.” Emily tried to imagine her Dad being somewhere in India. It felt like he was on the other side of the world.
“Earth to Emily, are you ready for the top tourist destination in the city?”
“What? Oh, sure.”
“Pier 39, here we come. The place that every visitor to the city has to mark off on their tourist punch card,” Livie joked. “What is it like to live in a place without tourists trying to take pictures of things you see everyday?”
“Do you mean Folsom? Normal, I guess?”
“I always wonder how many photos I’ve accidentally photobombed. Has my photo been to England? Has it been to Antarctica? Has it been to India?”
“My Dad’s in India now.”
“India! That. Is. So. Wicked. Cool! India is on my Someday List. Ask him to bring you a statue of Shiva! Or Ganesha!”
“Who? What?”
“Ganesha. Ask him to bring you a statue Ganesha.”
“Why?”
“Ganesha is the Hindu deity who is the remover of obstacles. He has an elephant head and a human body.”
“How can a statue with an elephant head remove obstacles in my life?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know, but that’s his job. Remove obstacles. Anyway … back to our fair foggy city by the bay and Pier 39. I secretly think the carousel is cool, near the sea lions lounging, and the sailboats whisking across the bay…” Livie sighed, “It’s just magnificent. What other city can compete with that? Especially on a sunny day.”
“Sailboats and sea lions, seriously?” Emily asked. She didn’t want to think anymore about the elephant god man thing.
“Yep, follow me.”
“We’re not going on a sailboat, right? Emily asked.
“Sailboats are designed to fall sideways?” Emily had asked her dad, once. “Almost,” her Dad responded. Emily wasn’t mollified and vowed to keep a lot of distance between her and sailboats, precariously bouncing at the mercy of the waves.
Emily swallowed down the memory. She was with Livie, not her dad, and there was no way she was getting on a sailboat no matter how desperate she was for friendship. “What do you mean ‘on a sunny day?’ Yesterday was a bit sunny, but I’m convinced this city is nothing but fog.”
“Look outside the window.”
The sun filtered through a break in fog, which had become defined grayish puffy clouds, lighting the side of Emily’s face.
“Wait until Indian Summer when the weather starts to clear and we have a chance of wearing shorts. September and October are the warmest months of the year, right after school starts.”
“When does school start?” Emily had forgotten.
“Middle of August, in a few weeks. Do you know which school you’re attending?”
“Uh, no! My Mom probably forgot, in her anxiousness to move here. Would I be at the same school as you?” Please tell me I don’t have to make more new friends.
“Uh-oh. Registration for San Francisco public schools is not like the suburbs. There’s a lottery in January where you list schools you might want. Usually you don’t get the school you want. There are a couple of public high schools are elite enough you have to apply, and there are a couple a public charter schools, one of which I personally attend, that has its own application process.”
“Could you repeat that in English? How do I get a school?”
“When your mom registers you, she’ll have to pick from what schools are available. Since school starts soon, your choices are slim.”
“What about your school, you said that’s different, is there room there?”
“Maybe, usually there’s a waiting list, though.”
“This completely sucks!”
“You can try to get on the waiting list?”
Emily remembered the school she was signed up for in Folsom, which she’d visited with her middle school friends in May. The campus was new and broad, with two story buildings dispersed like a college campus. Lots of grass, lots of sun, no confusion, and more than one friend, she thought sadly.
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