a classy clientele you’ve got, Nick.» David looked at me. «You don’t count.»
They began righting chairs and tables, and I helped.
«Where you crashin’ tonight?» Nick turned to David.
«None of your business.»
«Son, please. Stay here.»
«Nope.»
«Why not?»
«I said no!»
«Alright, then would you at least do me the great honor of tellin’ me where yer goin’?»
David was silent and tugged at his torn sweatshirt.
«David, I won’t be takin’ any o’ yer money.»
«Nicholas, you old bastard! I don’t plan on owing people for my whole life! Got it? Everywhere I go I owe someone something. Here, at least, could you just let me chill out and be alone?» He tripped on a chair and fell over.
We ran over and helped him to his feet.
«What are you, deaf? You need to sit in that chair and tilt your head back,» I said harshly, tilting his head back and pressing a tissue from my pocket under his nose.
David stared at me, hard.
«Yer stayin’ here tonight!» Nick declared, his tone final.
«Your nose doesn’t look that long, Nick, but you’re always sticking it where you shouldn’t!»
I washed my hands in the sink behind the bar and stopped by the staircase, looking at David. His gaze slowly retreated.
«Fine. I’ll stay.»
«There are yer keys. I won’t be dragging you to yer room now. You can haul yer scrawny ass up there and git some sleep, goddammit!»
David took the keys and went up, his pace slowing as he walked past me.
«Hmph! That boy’ll fall into his own grave one of these days,» grumbled Nick and turned to me. «Thanks honey. I can take it from here.»
«Good night.»
«Lord! That doesn’t exist round here, but thanks anyway. You too!»
I returned to my room and sank into my easy chair. I sat, my eyes wide, and gazed out the window. The sky looked like a field of peonies: all night I searched for flowers among the clouds. It was so beautiful… The whistle of the wind soothed me, and at last I fell asleep.
Early in the morning, I was awoken once again by a loud noise. From the window, I spotted a pair of legs sticking out from under my car, so I left the bar and walked over, staring at the worn chucks.
«Morning,» came David’s muffled voice.
«Morning!» I replied, somewhat annoyed, examining the black spots that stained his clothing.
«Your car’s ready. To. Roll,» he declared, pulling himself completely out from under the vehicle.
«Thanks. How much do I owe you?»
«It’s on the house.»
«But you —»
«The car’s ready to go, alright? Have a nice day.» He headed to the bar.
I followed him and ran into Nick.
«Mornin’ honey! I was just comin’ out to fix yer car. The ol’ handyman hit the bottle and now he’s lyin’ somewhere on the road with a bunch o’ Injuns, tryin’ to prove it’s his land. So I’ll be takin’ care of this masself.»
«That actually won’t be necessary, but thanks!»
«What do you mean… it won’t be necessary?» he drawled, his brows furrowed.
«It’s working again.»
«Well I never! Was outback lookin’ for my toolkit all night!»
«Well, this is for the sleep you lost over my car. And would you mind giving that money to David Ogden?»
«He do a striptease for you or something?»
«Not exactly. Thanks again.»
I got into the car and drove off, a plume of sand rising in the rearview mirror.
«Don’t look back in anger,» by my favorite band, Oasis, blasted at full volume. It’s an oldie but a goodie. Whew! I was singing at the top of my lungs! My thoughts were far away, somewhere on the far side of the moon.
I’d packed up as soon as I got the letter saying I’d been accepted to a master’s degree in filmmaking and screenwriting. Only a couple weeks remained until the start of classes. So I got into my car and decided to go it alone – well, with one sidekick – my GPS, and a useless map. No planes, trains, greyhound buses… just me, my good old homegrown clanker, Murica and the far side of the moon.
The line of downtown skyscrapers peeked over the horizon and my hands tightened around the steering wheel. I slowly took off my dad’s old Ray-Ban Wayfarers.
«Los Angeles.» The words made my heart skip a beat. Long, tangled roads, palm trees, graffiti, that signpost with all of Los Angeles’s sister cities and their distance in miles, Walt Disney Concert Hall, the Sunset Strip, the Angel’s Flight railway, Watts Towers… The colors of the traffic lights seem different, the crowds on the crosswalks, the little stores with real American Coca-Cola and, of course, the sky…
My name is Connie, and I’m not sixty-five. I came to Los Angeles because I was accepted into a filmmaking and screenwriting course. Winning-at-life level: 50 %.
This is where my new story starts.
1
Cinema is bigger than all of this other stuff. Cinema truly is an art form given to us by the gods …with the magic of it. The other stuff isn’t important.
«Well… home sweet home!» My bags fell to the floor with a thump.
Before the start of the academic year, I had to do everything on my Murican to-do list: watch «Friends» in pajamas on the couch, order Papa John’s at 1am, run around the apartment screaming like Kevin in «Home Alone»…
At night I turned everything off, went out on the balcony and sat in a rocking chair, soaking in the nighttime view of Los Angeles and joined occasionally by my glass of lemon water. And then I watched a light purple chiffon scarf float in the air, as if dancing to the whispering wind. What does this incredible calm in my heart mean?
My first academic day in Los Angeles. Morning. I had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV with a towel on my head. Then my alarm went off. I blow-dry my hair and quickly pull on a big T-shirt and shorts. A couple sips of coffee. I pull on my Nikes with their clashing laces. Off I go!
I slid into the parking space and looked up at the main building of the university.
