Instead of driving directly home, I take the long loop through the city. I head toward State Street, through downtown. It’s my favorite drive. The road is narrow with a slight decline, so you can see the beach and pier as you cut through the heart of the city. It’s always crowded with people, and traffic is slow because there’s a stop light every block. Gives me enough time to people watch, look at the white buildings, the patio eateries, the pretty walk-ways with the small fountains and wood benches, the historic structures.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the waterfront and doing the last couple of miles back to Hope Ranch. I pull into our driveway and sigh when I check the dashboard clock. That killed all of thirty minutes. It sucks when you don’t have anything to do.

Inside the house, I find Maria in the family room watching her favorite Spanish soap opera and folding laundry. I sink down on the couch beside her and put my head in her lap. For some reason I want to cuddle up next to Maria like I did as a little girl and have her rub my forehead. I’ve got all kinds of messy emotional junk going on inside me and I’m not exactly positive it’s just about Rene ditching me for the next three weeks.

I’ve been in a strange mood since the roses arrived. I can’t describe it, and I can’t shake it.

Maria puts her gentle fingers in my hair. “Why is my girl so sad?”

I shrug. “Not sad. Restless, I think.”

“Do you miss your young man?”

I flush. I stare up at her. “I don’t have a young man.”

“You do in here.” She taps my heart. “Do you love him?”

I look away. No one ever asked me that question. Oh, there were questions, lots of questions, last spring after my fling with Alan, but no one, not even Jack, ever asked me if I loved him.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I whisper, feeling tears suddenly threaten.

Maria smiles sadly. “It’s the only thing that does matter in life, Chica.”

In silence we watch Maria’s soap opera and it’s just gotten steamy when the phone rings. Spanish soap operas are very nasty things, and Maria is pissed that the phone is interrupting a very scandalous part. The irritation on Maria’s face makes me laugh.

I push up from the sofa. “I’ll get it, Maria. But you have to explain what happens when I come back.”

I jog into the kitchen, so I don’t disturb her, and grab the receiver off the wall. “Taco Bell. May I take your order please?”

I hear a pleasant, familiar male laugh. “You’ve been in SB too long, homegirl.”

I smile. “Hey Neil, Merry Christmas one day late.”

“What are you doing?”

I sink on a stool by the center island. “Watching Spanish soap operas and folding laundry.” He laughs again and it’s obvious he think I’m joking. I frown. “How did you get my number in SB? I never gave you my number and it’s unlisted.”

“I’ve had it since we met at Peppers. I got it from Josh. It’s the number Rene gave him.” Neil starts to laugh. “You should have been there the one time Josh called Rene and your old man answered. Your dad is a trip. Really gave Josh a full dose of shit.”

I roll my eyes. Rene giving out my dad’s phone number to guys she meets in bars. Good one, Rene!

“So, what are you doing?” I ask.

“The family thing. But I think if I don’t get out of here soon my head is going to explode,” Neil says in aggravation.

I do hear a lot of background sound and people. “Big family?”

“Big enough. Three sisters and twenty cousins. All here. So noisy I can’t think. What are you really doing?”

I laugh. “Watching Spanish soap operas and folding laundry.”

Silence. I stare at the phone.

“So, do you want to go kick around or something?” Neil says finally, after a long while. “Just hang out? Do some of those SB things? I just really need to get away from the family thing for a while.”

I make a face at the receiver. Hang out? SB things? Is Neil Stanton finally asking me out on a date? I can’t really tell for sure. Or is this just more of our buddy stuff from Berkeley?

I shrug and wonder why it even matters. It’s not like I’ve anything else do to. “OK. I’m up for kicking around. What time are you picking me up?”

“Picking you up?” Neil repeats. More silence. “I don’t have a car here. I flew down. You’re going to have to pick me up, Chrissie.”

“Ah, so what you really want is transportation,” I tease.

“If that’s what you think, don’t bother,” Neil replies, a harsh edge to his voice. “You’re a very difficult girl to be friends with. Do you know that?”

Coldness crawls across the surface of my face, and then heats rapidly. Jeez, why so touchy? I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Where do you live?”

A long pause. “The lower eastside, one block over from Milpas Street.”

I frown. Neil says that like I should know where it is. “How do I get there?”

“My house or Milpas Street?”

I scrunch up my nose. “Both.”

“What kind of homegirl are you? Go south on the 101 and there’s Milpas Street. You want to go left, not right toward the beach. Left toward the eastside.”

Well, that sounds simple enough. I grab a pen and a piece of paper. “What’s the address?” I write it down and repeat it to Neil since I’ve never heard of the street before. “Is that right?”

“Perfect. Now, when you get here, just pull into the driveway and honk the horn. That’s what Josh does. It makes everything easier.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “What? You embarrassed to have your family meet me?”

“No,” he replies with irritation. “I don’t want to be trapped here for another hour while everyone insists on meeting you.”

I laugh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t bring girls home, OK? Like seriously. You’ll be the first one.”

I frown. That’s odd. Neil is a really good looking guy. He must have had tons of girlfriends in high school.

“Didn’t your parents ever want to meet your girlfriends?”

A loud exhale of breath. “Yes. And I should point out, you’re not my girlfriend.” Another long pause. “Fine. Walk to the door. Find out for yourself. When can you get here?”

“When do you want me?” I blush. That didn’t come out right.

“About eight hours ago,” he says with humorous desperation.

I smile. “Give me thirty minutes.”

“You may be saving my life, Chrissie.”

I hang up the phone. OK, a date that is not a date, hanging out and doing something Neil calls SB things. What do I wear? I pull from my drawers a pair of jeans and a black tank top, from the closet I grab my Converse and a pink sweater to tie around my waist. It’s warm now, but the weather could change in an hour and I don’t know where we’re going.

After I dress, I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and put on a touch of mascara and some lip gloss. I brush out my hair, puff it with my fingers, and give it a light spray.

In the driveway, I find my car blocked in by Jack’s. I go back into the house and down the hallway to my dad’s bedroom. Jack is on the bed, reading.

“Can I borrow your car, Daddy? I’m blocked in and I don’t want to play musical vehicles.”

He looks up over the top of his book. “Where are you going?”

I have to fight not to make an are you kidding face at him. In high school Jack never questioned where I went, but that was pre-Alan. Crud, I’m nineteen, I go to Berkeley, and I’m getting the parental treatment over an afternoon in SB with Neil Stanton. If it wasn’t so weird it would make me laugh.

I sink on the bed. “Just out to kick around and do some SB things with a friend.”

“Male or female?”

I roll my eyes. “Male.”

“Janitor or TA?”

This time I do make a face at him. Jack is just teasing me. “Janitor, if you must know. May I take your car? Where are the keys?”

His eyes return to his book. “In the kitchen. You know where. Don’t be late.”

~~~

I go south on the 101 searching for Milpas Street. I can do this.  I stop at the street lights for the downtown freeway cross-through traffic. I wonder if I missed the off-ramp and I’m not familiar with south of the lights on the 101. It’s like a demarcation line. I never drive pass the lights on 101.