If you're reading this but haven't read chapter 16... whatchu waiting for?! This is the shortest chapter of the story so far but not the least important.


Anna keeps wondering what it is with her parents and hotel restaurants.

While she climbs the stairs and exits the subway station, Anna recalls her mother visiting last year and suggesting that they have lunch at the restaurant of the hotel she was staying at. Perhaps it is that travel is part of their job and nothing comes in more handy than a quick meal at a place you just have to take an elevator down for. Perhaps it is that they've never let Anna choose the spot—it's not like she would choose a kebab food truck rated B by the health department—. Or perhaps it just is that their interest for exploring and experiencing new things falls at minus two on Anna's own scale.

Whatever the reason, today's place, which is three blocks away from their own hotel, has at least a more casual setting. Its floor-to-ceiling windows also keep the restaurant from feeling too oppressive, although Anna attributes her not feeling out of place to the fact that she's not carrying her backpack this time.

She finds her parents sitting near the entrance. They have already started on some coffee and they offer her some after she greets them both with a brief albeit familiar hug.

As they sit, her father asks, "How are you feeling today?"

Anna looks on, confused. "Me? Good, why?"

He regards her curiously. "You said you had a pretty bad stomachache yesterday, remember?" Anna can tell by the tone of his voice that he knows more than he's letting in on. Even her mother is looking at her amusedly, her lips pursed to hide a small smile.

She then remembers that they had called her yesterday morning before she had to go to work and endure the longest six hours of her life. She had told them that she had a stomachache—not far from the truth—and would not be able to meet them afterwards. In reality, she was hungover beyond relief and all she wanted to do was go home and crawl under the bed to never see the light of day again. Hide from everyone while she was at it. Mourn her own shitty decisions. This suddenly makes her think of The Metamorphosis. What was that poor guy's name? It was a foreign name but all she can remember is that it started with a G. She thinks of cupping her hands around her mouth, raising her voice, and asking the room WHO HERE HAS READ THE METAMORPHOSIS?

Instead she smiles sheepishly at her parents and tells them, "I'm feeling much better today." Was it Gerard? No. "How are you guys?"

Graham? Absolutely not.

"We're doing well," her mother replies. Her teasing smile gone and replaced by her usual, solemn expression.

"What did you end up doing yesterday?" Gregory... Gregor! Greeegor Samsa!

She smiles a little at this absurdity.

"We stayed at the hotel for the most part," her father says. "Then we had to compromise so we walked over to the MoMA because the Met would have taken us all day..."

"And then we walked around the park," her mother finishes.

"That's nice." And odd, she thinks, not missing the fact that her parents—a couple married for twenty-two years—walking hand in hand through the paths of Central Park appears to be a rather foreign concept to her. It makes her sad.

There is a pregnant pause that is broken by the waitress and is once again renewed when she leaves with their orders. Anna reaches inside the pocket of her jeans, searching for the tiny squeezable heart Elsa had given her that morning. "That way you don't harm those pretty lips of yours," she had told her. Anna pulls it out and squeezes it hard.

"Anna," her father says. "Your mother and I... we want—no, we must apologize to you."

Anna sits, waiting. Under the table, her hands are fiddling distractedly with the squishy heart.

"What you said to us after graduation," he continues, "it revealed more than we may have wanted to admit to ourselves. We haven't been the best support, and we haven't been the most present at times. You've been placed as second when you should have come first, and for that we're truly sorry."

Anna gives a weak nod as she takes his words in. She feels so small sitting here before her parents; back to being a child.

"We're sorry if we ever made you feel like you were not enough, honey" her mother adds; her words quiet and passive. "You know we love you, don't you?"

Anna nods again, even if the question doesn't fully reach her heart. It sounds like a weak reminder. One she's heard before but has rarely ever felt.

"I love you guys, too," she mutters.

"We'll do better from now on," her father reassures her. "I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to us."

She breathes deeply before she takes a sip of water. She had known this conversation would happen. She had expected it; waited for it. In reality, she had rehearsed it time and again in her mind since she exited that taxi almost two days ago until this moment. She figured her parents would apologize, perhaps even promise her what they do now. But Theo had told her once that this was no magic wand and she was right. Anna couldn't just flip a switch on her emotions. She couldn't go from experiencing an affection marred with insecurities to establishing a closely bonded relationship with them.

"You guys do realize that it's not gonna be so easy, right? As much as I wish it were..."

"What do you mean?" Her mother asks.

Anna glances down at the heart she keeps squeezing every time it goes back to its regular shape. She thinks of the conversation she had with Elsa the day before as she went through the details of what her mother had said, and particularly of Elsa's response thereafter.

"I mean that I can't just pretend like the last twenty years of my life didn't happen. I want to be able to talk to you guys about everything, and I will... in time. But I can't just give you a list of the things you've missed out on, call it a day and move forward. There's so many things you don't know about me, like... I don't know, who was my least favorite professor this semester?"

It is not a rhetorical question and her parents know this. Yet, they remain silent, unable to answer it. She feels a pang of sadness at this.

"It was Mr. Hayes," she says dejectedly, aware that they won't know either what Mr. Hayes taught. Something else occurs to her then, as she delves into this foreseen realization. "You know who does know this?"

She searches for her mother's brown eyes as she answers once more for them. "Elsa knows this. And so many other things you probably wouldn't even think of asking."

"Don't you think it's a little unfair to compare your own parents with your girlfriend?"

Anna is taken aback. An apology sits at the tip of her tongue but she refrains from letting it out. "That may be true. But I also think it's unfair to know your daughter less than her girlfriend does."

"Sweetheart, we're trying here," her father pleads.

"Okay, sorry," she rushes out, more apologetic than she feels. "Look, all I need you guys to know is that the reason why Elsa knows so much about me, no matter how long it's been, is because she's made me feel like I can tell her anything. She means a lot to me, and I know that you may be scared about whether this relationship will be an obstacle in my future or whatever, but it won't. Elsa is very mature, you know? And it's not just because she's twenty-four and all that but because she's smart and selfless, and she believes in me. So, mom, please have some faith. You too, dad. Have some faith in me and just... be there. All I ask is for you guys to be there for me."

Her parents stay silent until the waitress arrives with their food. They all glance at her enough to give her a grateful smile. Anna looks down at her pancakes before she tucks the squishy heart back inside her pocket. She must give it a name, she muses. Elsa will laugh. Why must you give a name to everything? She'll ask, her eyes bright and amused. Always amused at Anna.

Amidst the silence, she smiles.

"Honey," her mother begins, neglecting the food in front of her for the time being. "This is your life. No matter the advice we may give you, in the end it'll be your decision. Frankly, I don't want us to part in bad terms, so let's not fight over this anymore, okay?"

Anna regards her for a few seconds wondering if this is as far as she will go in the acceptance of her defeat. Although, she thinks, is it really defeat if she is only saying the words that will acquit her from fault if Anna ever fails? Maybe she's overthinking it at this point.

Maybe this is at last an act of closure, and if so, let it be a denouement. Anna will take it.

"Okay," she says.

Her father reaches across the table for her hand and after a beat, so does her mom.

Humans are complicated creatures. No emotion can ever be singled out, no thought ever fully explained. But despite being unique, their search for forgiveness is universal. It manifests itself both in words and in silence; soon enough, or after years of nursing an ego too big to fit an apology. It's shown in the way a person hugs their lover; in the way a stranger apologizes to another; in the way a parent holds onto their child's hand. Forgiveness is easy to look for yet hard to find, but for Anna, forgiveness is granted the moment it is asked for. Whether this is a curse or a virtue, she may never find out, but right here, right now, Anna forgives. She forgives knowing it is not an erasure of the past but rather the prospect of a new beginning.

"So..." Her father begins after a final squeeze of her hand. "Your mother here may be weary but I know she's also curious, so I must ask... How did you two meet?"

Her mother closes her eyes almost tiredly but the faint smile doesn't go unnoticed by Anna. It gives her a sliver of hope.

"Well, it all started at Kristoff's birthday party last year..."


The day carries a perfect afternoon breeze.

A few blocks east from Castle Senior Center, a park is engulfed in serenity. A few people are out walking their dogs, throwing balls, watching as their four-legged friends wag their tails and run incessantly after their favorite toy. A few kids meet each other for the first time over at the playground, become immediate playmates, and pretend to go on an adventure only they can see. Under a tree, two girls sit, indulging in the company of each other, relishing the present.

Their visit at the Center had been brief compared to other days. It had also been more of a communal thing. It may have been that the occasion had called for it. It may have also been that the first day of Pride month was finally here and everyone was in a contagious, joyful mood.

Theo had been wearing a parade of colors that day. Louie, with is rainbow bow tie on, had told the girls that his grandson was married to a wonderful young man and that they were expecting to have their first kid soon. "I'm going to be a great grandpa," he had told them proud, with his hands shaky and his eyes shining with youthful illusions. He told them how he had taken a trip to the city (and grumbled about having to go with a nurse) to buy the full collection of Mozart's sonatas, and that he would make sure to introduce him or her to the genius of Beethoven. Sergei had intervened at that point, reminding Louie that today he must listen to Tchaikovsky. "Why?" He'd asked him. "Because he was a gay composer, you silly dedushka!" Greta, with a big fake-toothed grin, had been wearing a handful of multi-colored beads around her neck. Did she get them at a Mardi Gras during her days as a brothel-owner in New Orleans? Did she get them at a Pride Parade? No one will ever know (she doesn't remember) but Anna was happy to live with the possibilities that her imagination summoned.

They gushed at all the graduation pictures Anna and Elsa showed them on their phones before the girls sat down with Theo and caught up on the latest news. Their conversation was lighthearted even when they discussed Anna's parents. Theo had told them that her medical check up was overdue but promised them that she would get around to it soon. They discussed London, Elsa's prep week in July and their upcoming trip to Upstate New York. It would be a busy summer for them, Theo had said approvingly, "Y'all gotta make the best of it!"

They left soon after, hugging everyone as they went and opting out of going straight back to Manhattan to spend some time outside in this warm June weather. Anna had brought her journal and a book, and Elsa had brought along what she called her leisure book because, she explained, most of the time she was reading two. One medical and one for leisure. Indeed, too smart for her own good.

"What'cha reading this time?" Anna asks as she settles her head on top of Elsa's thigh.

Elsa shows her the cover. Love in the Time of Cholera.

Anna gasps. "I haven't read that one yet."

Upside down, she sees Elsa bring an indignant hand to her chest. "How dare you?"

"I know! Don't judge me. I read A Hundred Years of Solitude, though."

"I haven't read it."

Anna narrows her eyes and mimicking her girlfriend's gesture she says, "How dare you."

Elsa laughs. Goodness that laugh. Soft and airy. Her blue eyes shining with amusement and affection. Anna can feel her heart soar every time Elsa laughs like this.

"If you have it we can do a book exchange once I'm done with this one."

Anna lifts her hand up for a handshake not really knowing how that would be possible given her position. The blonde just grabs it, brings it to her lips and kisses it.

They soon settle into a comfortable silence that is occasionally filled with a dog's bark and the distant cries of happy children. Anna has pulled out her journal and a pen, but keeps having her focus shifted to the sensation of Elsa's fingers weaving through her hair. She sighs contentedly and closes her eyes for a minute. The breeze caresses the skin of her face; the leaves of the trees dance with the air. If Anna could freeze a moment in time it would be this, and although she knows this is impossible, she has something to her advantage.

Her words.

Anna writes, pauses to think, bring back this sensation, then writes again. She writes it for the person playing with her hair, for the one with the airy laugh and bright blue eyes that has captured her heart and will forever refuse to let it go.

When she finishes she sits up. Looking at Elsa, she tells her: "I wrote you a thing."

Elsa tilts her head, smiles and accepts the page Anna has ripped off her journal. She doesn't read it until the redhead has settled next to her.

Her cellphone chimes with a notification but she ignores it. She peeks at the piece of paper as Elsa reads the words in silence.

You came into my life the same way that sunlight seeps through the canopy of a tree.

You brought along the same comfort;

the same warmth;

the same smile

that I give out at the small joys of the universe.

Having you in my life has slowly started to feel like I'm collecting the most important memories all in one place.

While I keep finding you at the center of them,

holding my hand,

standing right next to me.

I've seen you many times before

in my dreams,

wearing different masks

and different names.

But in all,

I feel the same:

This inexplicability,

this unfathomable sensation of being right in the arms

of the person meant for me.

June 1st, 2020.

Anna.

Elsa keeps reading these words over and over, until she takes her eyes off the paper and looks at her with bottomless affection. Once again, Anna wishes to conjure the power to freeze this moment forever.

"Is this really how you feel?"

"It's just a tiny bit of how I feel."

Her girlfriend's hand lifts up to ruffle her bangs. "How did I get so lucky with you?"

"We both did in that case," she grins.

Elsa observes her with such an intensity that makes Anna think she must be trying to do the same as her: engraving this moment in her memory forever.

"So you liked it?"

The blonde hugs her tightly. "I love it. I love you," she whispers.

Elsa kisses her then, deeply and without impediment, as if she wanted to convey in this sole gesture what she cannot translate into words. Anna feels it in the way the blonde's hand goes to rest behind her neck, in the pressure of her lips against her own. The sensation sweeps her away as she savors the first of Elsa's tongue and she soars when the girl sighs into her mouth.

Let this feeling last forever, she hopes.

Let happiness last a lifetime.


That phone chime signified a job interview. A full service literary agency based in Los Angeles had recently opened a new office in New York. They were seeking an assistant to a talent agent. 1-2 years of experience were preferred, although not required. A strong interest in the craft of writing was necessary, as well as a desire to learn and develop in such environment. Anna's intuition told her that this could be it. It was nothing but a hunch, but a strong one at that. Still, it didn't stop her from feeling like a complete mess.

"Breathe, Anna," Elsa tells her for the sixth time that morning.

"But I can't find my bra!"

"It's right here."

"Oh God thank you."

"Did you print your resume?"

"Yes."

"Did you iron that shirt?"

"I had to."

"Good. Did you brush your teeth?"

"Ah fuck."

Anna runs back to the bathroom as she puts her shirt on and starts buttoning it up. Elsa follows her at her own unhurried pace and leans on the door frame as she watches the redhead begin to brush her teeth.

"I hunhed i heet wron."

"I have no idea what you just said."

She spits out the toothpaste's foam. "I buttoned my shirt wrong."

Elsa chuckles. When Anna is done rinsing her mouth she steps inside and takes hold of Anna's shirt. It's all crooked because she missed the first button. The blonde undoes the whole thing and starts again.

"It's gonna be okay, sweetheart," she tells her as she buttons the shirt from top to bottom. Anna stays where she is, breathing in and out, letting her girlfriend pass on a bit of her own calmness to her. "You just gotta be yourself. You're smart, and creative and very, very talented. Plus, you have all the qualities an agent would want to have in their assistant."

"I do?"

Elsa places her hands on her shoulders. It's pep talk time. "You're outgoing and talkative but not too talkative that you'll drive them nuts. You're also very dependable and responsible. Plus, this could be a great opportunity for you. You'll have your foot in the door and who knows, maybe this same agency could represent you one day."

"Right."

"You can do this, baby."

"I can do this," she nods repetitively.

She can do this, she chants like a mantra from the moment she steps out of her apartment to the moment she arrives at the building on 39th street.

Hoffman & Co. Literary Agency is engraved on a plate next to the number 1004. Anna signs herself in at the front desk, enters the elevator and presses 10. As it goes up she checks her phone and smiles when she sees a couple of texts from her parents wishing her success. They're brief, and the smiley emoji on her dad's text and the flower one in her mom's look rather out of place with their characters but that will do. There's also a good luck text coming from Elsa, very much out of character as well with all those exclamation points and capital letters. It makes Anna chuckle. She doesn't have the time to reply, however, because she arrives a few seconds later.

She walks down the empty hallway until she arrives at the door of suite 1004. Inside and to the right, a woman sits behind the front desk, lifts her head up and gives her a cordial smile.

"Hello."

"Hi," says Anna as she approaches. "My name is Anna Summers. I'm here for an interview."

"Are you a writer or an applicant?"

Both! She wants to exclaim. "An applicant."

Another cordial smile. "Take a seat, Miss Summers. Give me a few minutes, we'll call you right over."

Anna goes to take a seat on a leather sofa that almost plunges her straight to the floor. She could fall asleep right here if given enough time. As she waits she looks around the space. To her left there is a small conference room, with glass instead of a wall where a large, oval table is surrounded by La-Z-Boys that look as comfy as the couch she's sitting on. On the coffee table in front of her there are a few, arranged magazines from The New Yorker and a glass vase with a real (she checks) orchid. On the wall to her right hang posters of book covers that Anna figures must have been written by authors represented by this agency. She spends the last few seconds of waiting picturing her own work hanging on that wall.

A woman who couldn't possibly be past her forties (but most certainly is) walks by the front desk. When Anna sees her approaching her she stands up, flashing her a smile she's been rehearsing since that morning.

"Miss Summers?"

"Hi! That's me." She accepts the extended hand. Make sure your handshake is firm, love. That's what Elsa had told her. She hopes she's done it right.

"Nice meeting you," the woman says. She guides her down the hallway and to the right, past a few occupied offices that Anna can only glance at. The office she then enters gives her the impression of having been curated by a minimalist junkie. The walls are bare. The desk is just a desk. There's nothing on it but a few loose papers and a laptop. There's no furniture either and although that is somehow disconcerting Anna has no time to run anymore.

"I hope you may pardon the look of this office," the woman says as she signals for Anna to take a seat across from her. "It belongs to Mr. Zimmerman but he has yet to arrive from LA. He's actually the one looking for an assistant but given that he's still caught up in some business he's asked me to do the first round of interviews. The reason why I chose to do this here is because it lacks distractions," she says through a grin. It comes easily and Anna finds herself relaxing a bit. So it's not an escape room. Gotcha.

"I'm sorry, I've skipped the introduction haven't I? I'm Lauren Hoffman."

"Hoffman? Are you...?"

"That's my father, but yes. He owns this agency."

Anna hopes she doesn't look as intimidated and impressed as she feels.

"Now, before we start," Hoffman continues, "I feel like I must ask you a few personal things. Is that okay?"

"Yes, of course," she responds, steeling herself.

The woman leans back on her chair, relaxed and exuding a confidence that is natural rather than pretended.

"What is the real reason behind you applying for this job?"

A fair question, she thinks. Anna wasn't prepared for it, but the answer is one she doesn't have to look hard for. "Because I write, Mrs. Hoffman. And I believe that by working at a literary agency, even if it's as an assistant, can eventually give me the chance to forge my own path."

"I see..." She rocks on the chair a few times, holding Anna's gaze in what feels like a test. "And what makes you think you're talented enough to earn an agent?"

Anna wonders how a question as blunt as this one could sound so simple and genuinely curious. It carries no venom behind it but Anna still feels the need to hold her head up high.

"I don't think so. I know it." She really hopes this doesn't end up biting her in the ass. "I know writers abound in this city. Most of them are talented without a doubt but I also believe that to make it, talent needs resilience and that is something I have as well." She'll be laughing at her feigned confidence later today but right now she'll hold onto it like a lifeline.

An impressed smile graces the woman's features. "You do know it won't be that easy, right?"

"I do, but it won't keep me from trying."

Hoffman says no more on the subject. She appears to be satisfied. "Do you have a resume, Miss Summers?"

As the interview unfolds they go on discussing matters pertaining to every job interview: the qualifications, the job description, the reasons why Anna thinks she would be a good candidate for this position. The more they talk, the more comfortable Anna feels, and the more confident she is in her answers. At some point she even makes Hoffman laugh, which earns her some points in her books.

"I like you, Miss Summers," she tells her near the end. "If you were to be my assistant I may have hired you on the spot, but let that stay within these walls. In the end, this will be Zimmerman's decision."

"Thank you," she says. "You may call me Anna if you'd like."

"We'll see," Lauren smirks. "If I have to see more of you, I may do so."

They part soon after this with another handshake. Lauren tells her that they'll be reviewing a few more candidates but to expect a phone call with further details about a second interview. If Anna does enough to impress Mr. Zimmerman the job is hers.

She doesn't allow herself to do a celebratory dance until she is safe inside the walls of the elevator. She pumps her fists in the air, sways her hips, gives a Jackson little kick. She can't wait to get home and tell Elsa all about it, and perhaps even call her parents later on. That would be nice.

As the door opens to the street Anna grins. There's that good hunch again. At last, she feels like she's on a roll.


Thoughts?

As for Anna's parents... this won't be the last we see of them of course. It'll take time for them to fix what's been done over the years.