She feels the panic. Everything sounds too loud in her head. Somewhere behind, Elsa is trailing after her. When did she stop being by her side? Lobby doors slide open, white coats rush by, bright trolleys clang, telephone rings blare. She feels lost in a room not large enough for that.
As if spinning, her gaze travels from the reception desk to the strangers sitting in chairs, to the familiar face of Gaby who appears calmer than Anna feels. She hugs the nurse, because she knows not how to express herself at the moment. Gaby hugs her back, presses her palms over her shoulder blades. There is a light, rhythmic patting that does little to ease her concern.
"What happened? Why aren't you with Theo? Is she okay?"
"She's resting," Gaby tells her slowly, "And she is stable now. I'm here because Elsa told me you were coming."
"Can we go see her?" She looks to Elsa. "Can we?"
Elsa's eyes say one thing but she says another. "I can go ask." She moves away towards the reception desk while Anna stands by watching, wringing her hands and nibbling at her lower lip. She tries to read her lips, but all she can discern are the nods of understatement Elsa gives, the serious expression of the nurse she's speaking to, the light shake of Elsa's head as she returns moments later.
"We're way past visiting hours," she tells her.
"It is late," says Gaby, "You two should go home and get some rest."
"But—"
A hand rests on her shoulder. "She's right, Anna. We can come back tomorrow morning."
Standing still in the middle of the lobby, there is little she understands. She doesn't understand what low levels of red blood cells mean in the grand scheme of things. She doesn't understand the certainty of the word stable. Yet, she realizes that she's nodding without quite meaning to; a numb show of acceptance that has her being drawn away from the lobby, from the sliding doors and the bright lights of the hospital.
As she walks down the street and registers little of what unfolds around her, it occurs to her that she's barely ever tiptoed around the notion of death until now. That it didn't exist before that night. And that, sometimes, what one fears almost as much as death itself is the fact that every loved one will one day succumb to it as well.
Something heavy and dreadful cripples her into silence until the screeching of wheels brings her back to awareness. The train has come to a halt and its doors have slid open. People step out, oblivious to the strange feeling inside of her. A hand tickles the back of hers. It is Elsa's. She is tilting her head, letting her know this is the train they're supposed to board.
Anna sits next to her. The doors ding and slide closed. Everyone is tugged sideways as the train starts again.
"I'm sorry for making us come all the way over here," Anna says after a few minutes. The voice doesn't sound like it's hers, but someone else's.
Elsa places a hand on her lap and she takes it without thought. "You know I wanted to come too."
"But you knew we wouldn't be able to see her."
"Yes."
"So why did you let me convince you?"
"Because we're in this together, and if coming here would ease your mind then I had no reason to oppose it."
Anna swallows thickly before she lets her head rest on Elsa's shoulder. She can see their reflection on the window across from them. Despondent and tired, but together.
"Do you think I overreacted?"
"Everyone deals with these situations differently," Elsa tells her.
She looks up: "Don't talk to me in your doctor's voice."
Elsa smiles a little. "You didn't overreact."
A sigh escapes her. The thought of loss echoes in her mind and clings to her chest until she's unable to breathe from the weight of it all. She falls back onto her shoulder, and closes her eyes. "I don't feel ready, Elsa."
Elsa's arm moves until she's draped it over Anna's shoulder, pulling her closer. Slow and tender, she rests her lips on her forehead for the first time in years. The rest of the way back home is spent in silence.
Easter's early morning sun fell on the children's section of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church. The kids around her were giggling, amused little sounds leaking through the close-knitted fingers that covered their lips. They were laughing at her dress, a lilac taffeta that felt too crisp, too tight around her chest every time she drew a breath.
She'd watched her Momma put ruffles on the hem, and thought that once she put it on she would look like a movie star. She was going to look like one of those sweet little white girls who gave out toothy grins and held six-bottle cartons of Coca-Cola as if everything was right in the world. Hanging over the black Singer machine, its fabric pushed and tugged by her Momma's skillful fingers, she knew it was going to be too pretty for words. That when people saw her wearing it they were going to run up to her and say, "Theodora, you look like a star."
Just thinking about it made her walk around their kitchen table—around the Singer, around the dress, around her working Momma—with a pompous flair. But the sun had shown the dress to be a plain cut-down from a white woman's throw-away. The age-faded color made her look at herself in the reflection of the large window of the church, and see mud.
They kept on giggling. But she tucked her hands under her thighs, pursed her lips, and looked ahead. Wouldn't they be surprised when one day she woke up from her black ugly dream, and her real hair, which was long and blond, would take place of the big mass atop her head? Wouldn't they lose their speech when they looked into her crystal blue eyes and realize that this was nothing but a trick of the light? Then, she was sure, they would stop laughing. They would apologize to her the same way they bent their necks and looked to the ground at the sight of a white man before crossing to the other side of the street...
The reminder of brewing water suddenly strikes the forefront of her mind. Anna pushes herself away from the desk and rushes to turn off the stove where water is already beginning to evaporate.
"Shit," she mumbles.
She takes a chamomile teabag out of a mason jar and throws it in the waiting mug. She pours the water, and lets it sit awhile.
As she returns to the desk Anna rubs her heavy, dry eyes. She vaguely considers getting reading glasses and quickly decides to call it a night on this impulsive, unnecessary reread. The weight of the last three months are starting to stack up on her shoulders. The fewer hours of sleep as she splits her time between work and writing are beginning to catch up in one great blow of exhaustion. She could sleep from now until Monday, she thinks. At this point, it doesn't sound all that ridiculous.
The time reads 8:13 PM, which makes her sigh and decide to let her attention wander elsewhere. She goes once more over the last sentence on the page before her, and wonders about how much more time Lauren will need to finish reading the draft she's sent her. But to think of time at all wearies her now. It leaves an indentation on her mood that takes too long for it to disappear. As if its natural course had become visible to her previously inattentive mind. As if it were ticking right next to her ear, reminding her that all that remains are the scattered efforts to keep on living.
Anna is rubbing her eyes again in an attempt to keep them from watering when her phone vibrates atop the desk. She reaches for it underneath Theo's journal, and extracts it to find Elsa's incoming call.
"Hey," she greets with a croaky voice.
"Hi," Elsa says, "I just got off."
"That's great." Anna pauses, unsure. Elsa adds: "You... told me to call you when I got off?"
"Oh!" She slams her forehead. "Yes. I'm so sorry. It completely slipped my mind."
A low laugh tickles her ear. "Don't worry about it. Is everything okay?"
"What's okay anymore," she sighs offhandedly, leaning back in the chair. She swivels in it, faces her memory boards on the other side of the room. The sight of them calls for a smile, but her lips barely twitch. "How was work?"
"Good," Elsa answers, "But don't change the subject yet. How are you?"
Anna stands up and goes to lie on the bed. She feels little to no motivation to check on the tea at the moment. "Technically, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind and I'm tired and I could really use a nap."
"You've been working nonstop. You deserve that nap."
She smiles. To hear Elsa's voice right now is enough comfort. "We have to go to that thing though," she reminds her.
"Okay but... do we have to?"
"Decisions, decisions..."
"We can ditch them."
Anna bites into her lip. She hugs the pillow, wishing it were Elsa. "And do what?" she asks, not missing the suggestive tone in her own voice.
"We can go watch a movie," Elsa proposes. She is walking to the train station; Anna can hear it in the rustling sounds that leak into the phone call.
"I'm going to fall asleep before we can get past the trailers."
"So would I to be honest."
"Would your cousin let us live with such decision anyway?"
"Not for a while." There is a brief pause in which Anna closes her eyes so that she can picture her better; in those plain-colored clothes she's stuck to wearing after her shifts, in that high ponytail; those pretty blue eyes shifting from side to side as she crosses the street while the light still hasn't changed to green.
"So I guess we go," she mutters into the pillow.
"Have dinner with me first," Elsa suddenly says. "You can tell me about what's on your mind, I can tell you about this guy who was admitted to the ER because he had too much energy drink and we can both be fashionably late. Or not fashionably, but just late."
Despite her exhaustion it is hard saying no. It is hard not to smile, not to keep herself from being just a little bit more in love. "Okay," she says, "But if your cousin starts yelling I'll tell her it was your idea."
Elsa laughs. A low and melodious sound. "I can live with that."
Everyone had been surprised when it was Elsa who gave the suggestion. It'd come up in the group chat, and had been followed by a series of skeptical queries that she responded to with a dry: I'm not that antisocial. Anna had asked her the next day, during a brief phone call at lunchtime, out of sheer curiosity. Elsa's simple and casual response had been, "I went with Tracy once."
Tracy.
Funny how the name rolled out of her tongue so easily now. Anna had known for a while that she had been a part of Elsa's life this whole time. Yet, it was... strange. A disassociation of the past in which Tracy was still a bit of a jackass. A bit of an egocentric. A bit into her girlfriend. Anna remembers how badly she'd wanted to hate her all those years ago—truly, really hate her. But when Elsa had her mouth right next to her ear and was whispering 'Oh baby, come on,' and laughing at the same time, how could she concentrate on her stupid old hate?
How could she concentrate on Tracy at all now when Elsa is looking back and smiling gently at her despite the tragic certainties of life? Amidst the lights they passed by—of shops, of streetlamps, of cars—, and the faces of happy strangers, and the dozens of fragments that make up a memory. In a city so enlivened it edged on surreal; too good to be true. A city that felt as though it belonged to them in all its cacophonous, irreverent glory.
Anna follows her, incapable of hiding the love behind her eyes and the overwhelming sensation forming in her chest, until they stop in front of a red-bricked facade and a red neon sign that simply reads the word LUCKY. She doesn't know if it is because of the glass of wine Elsa has had at dinner, or something more profound and simple than that, but when she extends her hand for Anna to take, she finds no reason to question it.
The place is busy, with 80s alternative rock playing from a jukebox and two women making the drinks. A dive bar for grown-ups who lack the interest to impress, Anna soon realizes that her lazy outfit—a plain white shirt beneath her jean jacket, and ripped black jeans—are the perfect fit for this place. It is as if most had donned the first thing they'd reached for inside their closets, walked a few blocks and came here for happy hour. There was no pretense at all. Not in the girl wearing a faded Star Wars shirt nor the man in a baggy tour t-shirt, nor the guy in the corner sitting with his friends, sipping beer and wearing flip-flops.
Anna observes the various foreign currency bills taped to the ceiling as she lets Elsa guide her farther into the bar, carried by the music. She thinks she would let Elsa guide her anywhere if only she kept on brushing her thumb over the back of her hand.
"Should we get something to drink?" Elsa asks her, then adds, "Are you drinking tonight?"
"I think I'll have a beer," she responds above the disruptive sounds. She is having a hard time concentrating at all when Elsa's hand is still intertwined with hers.
As they stand by the bar waiting for the drinks Anna watches her closely rather than looking elsewhere. She observes the slight way in which her eyelids fall that remind Anna she will only stay for a couple of hours. The doleful shadow cast over her eyes, there one moment and gone the next, that reveals her persistent thoughts; the sober mood in which they have been thrown for the past week. The soft features of her face that bring Anna back to one of the earliest memories she got to share with her. To that night at the bar. That music. Those drinks. Remember, she wants to say, how scared I was of kissing you?
Elsa's lips are forming a smile. "What?" she's asking.
Anna shakes her head slowly. "Nothing."
The drinks are placed before them: a pint glass of lager and a sky blue cocktail Anna only knows contains whiskey from having glanced at the menu.
There is a beer garden outside walled-up by corrugated metal fences, where picnic tables have been set up and strings of colored lights hang from above. Amongst people in sneakers and hoodies, jeans and polos, Kristoff stands out the most with his neat button-up shirt, and Maren, effortlessly, next to him.
Eugene catches sight of them first. He quickly stands up to greet them with a hug that has them both in his arms. "How're you guys doing?" he asks, more serious than usual.
"Good," they say almost in unison.
"Great," he says, smiling softly, ruffling Anna's hair. "I'm glad you guys could make it. I think I'm the only one sober at this point."
It isn't entirely true, but to state the levels of sobriety at the table would mean having to explain that Rapunzel has already drunk two Stripper Pole shots and is currently on her second cocktail, that Kristoff looks buzzed but that's only because of his droopy, sappy eyes, and that Maren, the girl whom he's been seing for the past couple of months seems able to hold her liquor even better than Eugene.
Anna and Elsa join the table and slip easily into the familiarity that binds them all so closely together. They sit next to each other but look away from one another, become part of separate conversations. Anna listens to the ongoing details of the wedding preparation. Eugene explains he wanted a live band, Rapunzel says they can't fit it in the rooftop. He slams the wooden table, says, "We'll make it fit, dammit!" while Rapunzel points at him as she states, "This is what I have to deal with." Next to her, Elsa is discussing yoga with Maren. The brunette tells her they should go to one of her classes and as Anna overhears this she briefly, but very nearly, combusts at the thought of Elsa in tight leggins and a sports bra.
She continues to sip from her beer, however, and forces her mind to shift elsewhere.
Every so often, her features cloud over. In the quiet lapses of time, Anna grows guilty to be out at all; to allow herself this time of joy when Theo is still in the hospital, sleeping in a sterile room that does its best to appear welcoming. No matter how often she may be told that she is stable, no matter how much she knows Theo would be the first one to tell her to be out and enjoy herself. She can't help but think of those who split mourning into periods of time. Into days, specificities, traditions. She wonders how those people deal with the guilt brought over by hints of joy. She wonders how easy or how hard it could be to look into a person's eyes and say, "It is okay to be content."
But then Elsa is resting a hand on her knee and drawing her attention with a squeeze. And when she smiles—that tender, faint smile that Anna could fall in love with over and over again—she realizes that sometimes there are things that don't need to be said out loud.
Moments later she is offered another beer by Kristoff but she says no, thank you. She's already growing sleepy. Elsa, however, agrees to one last drink, says she'd like to go home afterwards. Rapunzel calls her a party pooper. She flips her off halfway through a yawn.
"How are you feeling?" Anna asks her.
Elsa props her head up on her elbow. "Tired... A little sad... A little buzzed."
Anna taps the back of Elsa's hand. She chooses to enliven her mood rather than bringing it down. "Good thing you finally got your five day vacation," she says. "What are you going to do with so much time in your hands?"
Elsa yawns again. "I am going to ponder over the mortality of the lobster and the amoral existence of living as a hermit."
A grin creeps over her face. "You are so strange," she notes fondly.
Kristoff's bulky arm moves in between them to place another blue cocktail down. "Johnny On The Spot for you," he announces happily.
Elsa invites her to try the cocktail. "It's sweet and too strong," she tells her, "I don't know why I keep ordering it."
Anna grimaces at the strong taste and shivers when the liquor passes down her throat. "That's gross," she says. "You keep ordering it because of the color."
Elsa chuckles. "That's probably true."
At some point, when the cocktail is halfway finished—with the occasional but helpful sips from Anna—Elsa is prompted to teach one or two things about the heart. She lets her knowledge loose in a way Anna has always found endearing, carried away by details and concepts that she takes her time to explain. This time she goes as far as grabbing a napkin from the center of the table and borrowing a pen that Anna had not realized she'd kept in the front pocket of her jacket.
"So this is the heart," she tells Maren, who started the whole thing in the first place. "This is the sinoatrial node." She marks a circle on the top left side of the loosely drawn heart shape. "And this is the atrioventricular node." Another circle somewhere in the middle. Anna shares an amused look with Maren. She wonders if the girl has no idea what she's looking at either. "So the electricity that powers a heartbeat starts here, and then it goes southward like this, which stimulates billions of cells along the way."
"I didn't catch any of that," Eugene mumbles.
Rapunzel shushes him.
"So there are technically wires in the heart," Maren provides.
"Yes. You could say." Her eyes glinting with buzzed excitement. "And the ventricular fibrillation you were asking about has to do with the electricity factor. In normal hearts you get a vulnerable period which is really tiny—like milliseconds tiny. So if you were to receive an external stimulus like a punch to the chest or an electrical shock during this tiny tiny period, it can cause the heart to fibrillate and stop."
"I know a kid that happened to. Somebody pushed him and he just... dropped dead," Maren says. She's using that voice kids use at summer camps when they're sitting by a fire, munching on burnt marshmallows, sharing scary stories late at night. I know a kid who got taken by a witch in this very... same... spot.
"Well fuck," Eugene breathes, like the kid who falls for every story.
"It's pure deadly luck," says Elsa. The eldest. The one who's probably seen the witch but isn't afraid of her.
"Is that what you told me you had to do when you gave that dude a pacemaker?" Anna asks her.
Elsa nods. "We have to induce ventricular fibrillation to make sure it works properly."
Kristoff looks disturbed. He grips at his chest. "That's fucked up."
"I think it's fascinating," Maren shrugs.
"Here," Elsa tells her, handing over the napkin on which she's doodled. "You can have it."
"In a week," Eugene says, "you'll pull that napkin out of your pocket and have no idea what it means."
The brunette laughs. Rapunzel smacks him upside the head. Elsa nods, recognizing this will most likely be true. She looks satisfied, however, which brings an inadvertent smile to Anna's lips.
"What?" Elsa asks softly when she catches sight of her expression.
She tries to shrug. "I just... missed you, that's all."
"But I haven't gone anywhere," she says, teasing.
Anna gives her a push. "You know what I mean."
Elsa bites her lip. "I do." She glances at the tall glass where the blue of her drink has been watered down by the melting ice. "Do you remember London, Anna?"
"Of course I do."
"Sometimes it was all I could think of," she confesses. "We should go back."
"We? When?"
"Yes. And tomorrow."
"Okay," she chuckles. "And then what?"
"Then we go to other places. We can go to Ireland. Or Bali. Or both."
Anna giggles despite the sleepiness that is beginning to creep over her body. "A month of traveling and I'll end up driving you crazy."
She shakes her head before taking a sip that will turn out to be the last one of the night. "You should know by now," she says.
"Know what?"
"That you're the only one I'd travel the world with."
The day Anna quit she thought she'd never be back in here again.
The familiarity isn't exactly a welcoming sensation. Her memories inside this place are one and the same; her feelings as she steps inside the elevator, mixed. She rubs her hands together, a shiver running down her spine despite barely feeling any cold at all.
She has left work early for this. She has spent the train ride swinging back and forth between nervousness and excitement, like an unsteady pendulum that keeps having to hold onto the pole at every screeching stop lest she ends up losing balance and kissing the nasty floor.
She's been trying to keep herself away from wondering about Lauren's opinions on the draft she sent her. The woman's voice had not given anything away when she'd called her two days ago to ask Anna to meet with her. As a result, all she was left with were melodramatic scenarios, self-aggrandizing situations and one dream in which Lauren told her she'd won the lottery after pulling a ticket out of a claw machine.
Needless to say, Anna's expectations had been unreliable and capricious, and she had not trusted a single one of them.
When the elevator comes to a stop, she is washed over by a slight sense of trepidation. That she has come prepared to see Hans again does little to assuage it.
At the suite's entrance she rings the bell and is let in a few seconds later. The buzz is familiar and so too is the weight of the door as she pushes it open.
Inside, Anna is greeted by a new face behind the front desk. It is a guy close to her age, with black-framed glasses and dark hair pushed back with pomade, a navy blue bow tie around his neck. He greets her cordially, and the fact that she is a stranger to him makes things easier.
"I'm here to see Lauren," she says, "or, I mean, Miss Hoffman."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I believe so," she tells him.
He does a quick show of checking before he shakes his head and says, "I'm sorry, I can't let you in without an appointment."
Anna's smile wavers. Just as she's about to ask him to double-check (don't half ass it this time) she catches sight of Lauren crossing the lobby back towards her office.
"There you are," Lauren breathes, as if the relief were hers and not Anna's. She rests a hand on her forearm and greets her with a quick kiss on the cheek. "I was just about to call you."
"I'm not late am I?"
"You're perfectly on time. I'm just impatient."
Anna gets it.
Lauren turns to bow tie guy. "I'm not in for the rest of the day."
He scrambles to type this in somewhere. "Sure. Yeah. Okay. I just wasn't sure about... her, because, you know, there was no appointment and—"
"That's fine," Lauren waves him off. "She doesn't need one."
Suppressing a smirk Anna follows her down the hall. She falters for a moment at the sight of Hans's office as she recalls all those rejection letters; all those times she was offhandedly disheartened.
"He's not in," Lauren comments when she catches the look on her face.
They continue down the hall until they reach the last door. Lauren's space is orderly and spacious; nothing much has changed inside since the last time Anna was here. Above a black leather couch hangs a Françoise Gilot self-portrait, its bright yellow and opaque blue standing out in the white background over which it has been placed. A glass coffee table rests its legs on a cream-colored rug while across from it a large bookshelf covers almost the entirety of the wall. Not a single space in it has been left unoccupied. Half of those books, Lauren once told her, are written by writers she represents.
By the floor-to-ceiling window that faces 6th Avenue there is a dark wooden desk on which a stack of correspondence and manila folders—not too far off from Hans's own—sits squarely on a corner. Three picture frames sit on the opposite corner, one of which has Lauren's parents in it, while the other two display a happy-looking German Shepherd named Billy.
On the center of the desk: the draft manuscript Anna gave her less than a week ago.
"Do you want a coffee?" Lauren offers.
"I'll be honest," Anna says, "I feel so wired right now that one sip of coffee will probably have me running up your walls."
"Well, we don't want that, do we?" the woman laughs, finally taking a seat.
Anna eases into her own chair. "Not unless you want to look after a grown-up child."
Lauren makes a face and then moves on. "So first things first," she says, placing a hand atop the draft. "I'm amazed at how quickly you got this out."
"Is that a good or a bad thing?"
"It's neither," Lauren replies, "But because you wrote this so fast I'd recommend you take some time away from it so that you can assess what it might be missing."
It is hard for her to conceal her disappointment. I can't, she wishes she could say. There is not enough time.
But had there been any to begin with?
"Anna."
She realizes her gaze had fallen to the desk. She looks up again. Lauren says: "This story is already good—great, even—but I know it can be better. You don't need to stay away from it for months, just a couple of weeks is all I ask."
Anna nods slowly. It is not unreasonable for Lauren to ask her this. It had been, in fact, to be expected. She had written this under the feverish need to conclude, to beat time; to live accordingly to a promise made under the pretense that she could defeat fate.
"Okay," she accepts with a low and regretful voice.
"Theo means a lot to you, does she not?"
She murmurs, "Yeah."
"So think about that when you revisit this story. I challenge you to make us see her the way you do."
"Yeah. Okay. I think I can do that."
An easy smile appears on the woman's face. "I know you can." She leans back in the chair, further relaxing. "If your first draft had been awful I wouldn't have asked you to take a couple of weeks, I would have sent you back to writing school."
Anna laughs a little. "I think my mom would have lost it if that had been the case."
"Has she read it?"
"No." She frowns. "Now that I think about it I don't think she's ever read anything I've written."
"Well," says Lauren, "she'll have no choice but to read this one."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm going to need you to come back soon so that we can discuss the terms of our contract, because no publishing house in New York will ever take a look at your book unless you have an agent."
Anna stares at her for a long, hard second.
"What?"
"I'm offering you my representation, Anna."
She has to swallow a squeal so loud that she nearly chokes. She realizes then that she could run up the walls right now, caffeine or not. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, "I think I'm about to lose my cool."
"Lose it all you want," Lauren says, grinning, "I had an author cry on me once, just as he was about to sign."
She breathes out a shaky laugh as she tries to stay focused on this moment. There are too many words she thinks she could say, and very few she knows she could use to describe what she's feeling. It's as if the pieces of a puzzle were falling; finally landing where they were supposed to be all along.
"I need to tell Theo," is the first thing she says, "And Elsa. And everyone. Oh my God. Oh Jesus."
Laughing, Lauren stands up from her chair in order to walk around the desk and lean against it, crossing one black court heel over the other. "You creators are so curious," she says, "getting excited over signing an agent."
"It is exciting."
She shakes her head, then smiles. "You'll know real excitement when you finally have your first published book in your hands."
Anna could cry, except that she doesn't. Because suddenly the idea of Theo not living long enough to see this feels unbearable.
"What's wrong?" Lauren asks.
"I just... knowing how long this could take, I'm scared Theo won't get to... you know."
She crosses her arms and takes a pause. "It might be highly unorthodox, but I think there's something we can do."
Anna spends another hour in her office discussing more than just Theo, her life and her story. She finds it soothing to be around Lauren's unswerving poise and composed persona, so often different from the unruly conversations and chaotic situations she ends up in when she's around her friends. None is better than the other, but in their difference Anna has learned to find a balance.
She leaves with the guarantee that she will call Lauren the next day, and closes the door behind her. The setting of the sun has given way to evening and now there is nothing Anna wishes to do more than to get home. She will change into lousy, comfy clothes. She will heat those Thai leftovers and she will spend the night not getting over the fact that none other than Lauren Hoffman is about to become her agent.
"Well, look who we got here."
She pries her eyes away from the elevator doors only to see her ex-boss stepping out of the office. She tries not to react. She'd completely forgotten about him.
"Hans."
"Anna," he says, nodding his head with too much solemnity. "If I hadn't forgotten something at the office I would have missed ya. What brings you here?"
"I came to see Lauren." She presses the down button again.
"I didn't know she was looking for another assistant."
Anna clenches her jaw, then releases it: the only physical reaction she will grant him. "I didn't come here for a job interview." When the doors slide open and she steps inside Hans follows after her.
"So what, you're friends then?"
She gives him a condescending smile. "You're much more dense than I remember."
Thrown off, Hans struggles to recuperate. "Forgive me for having a hard time imagining that someone like Hoffman could represent such a small writer like yourself."
She keeps looking ahead. "See, that's your problem. You think yourself too smart and too good for the 'small writers' to the point that you end up representing the same kind of close-minded people. Has anyone ever told you how boring that is nowadays?"
The elevator comes to a stop and opens to the lobby. Anna walks out while Hans is still fuming behind his glaring green eyes. It doesn't take long for him to catch up again.
"I pity you, Anna. I really do."
"That's your problem too, not mine."
"It was a mistake trying to teach you anything at all, given how ungrateful you're acting now."
Anna turns around until they're facing each other squarely. Her heart is beating aggressively inside her chest, anger and frustration boiling up to the point that it is becoming hard for her to keep them at bay.
"I find it funny that you think you taught me as much as you say you did. Maybe you should be teaching yourself a few things first rather than be chasing after me."
His expression turns bitter. "You changed."
"And it seems like you didn't." She dares pat his shoulder with one last smile tugging at her lips. "Who's pitying who now?"
"And then I just turned around and walked away and I swear I almost shat my pants but it was so worth it."
Pride lightens Theo's tired face. "That's my girl."
Anna pulls a shit-eating grin, pops another chocolate truffle into her mouth and tries to sit cross-legged in the stiff brown chair of the hospital room. She fails: the chair just doesn't work that way.
"So what did Miss Hoffman tell you?" Theo rasps.
"Hm?"
"Miss Hoffman," she repeats, "Y'know, the whole reason why you ran into that douche in the first place."
"Oh." She glances at the clock hanging from the wall. "I'll tell you about it in a bit."
"Why you acting sketchy, honey?"
"I'm not."
"You are," Elsa quips from another chair, which has Anna giving her a look that is nowhere near secretive at this point. Elsa knows what happened the day before (even the unnecessary details, like the fact that Lauren has a Keurig, and wouldn't it be nice to have a Keurig too?) from start to finish. Given the amount of work it took to describe the meeting, she might as well have been there with her.
Anna caves in just a little: "Okay fine, it's a surprise." She begins to stand up from the hardy, confining chair and goes to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to Theo. On the tray that straddles her legs there is a 50-piece puzzle being worked on, the image of a mountain curtained by morning mist. Elsa had bought it the day before on a trip to Barnes & Noble she said was necessary—but never really is—and brought it with her this afternoon.
"A surprise, huh?" she asks her. She is definitely teasing at this point.
"I know what you're getting at," Anna says, threatening her with a puzzle piece. "I can keep surprises from time to time."
"Name one instance."
Anna pouts and looks to Theo for help, but all she gets in response is a smile so small that it already feels like a memory. She then looks down then at the unfinished puzzle, as if by focusing on the scattered pieces she could pretend that all broken things in life could be mended.
"It hasn't been twenty-four hours," she says in a low voice, "I can usually keep surprises for twenty-four hours."
Theo tickles her arm, hands her a piece and shows her where to put it. She sits propped by a pillow with perceptive, keen eyes framed by a face that is becoming hard to recognize. Her body has begun to yield. Inevitably; like the tide does to the moon.
Elsa quits poking fun at her. She moves to sit on the other side of the bed, propping one leg up and leaving the other foot on the ground. She gives Anna a tender look before glancing down at the pieces on the tray. For a moment, that is all they do: work on a puzzle that is a little too small for three. They quieten time, slowing present down until they are brought back to the past; where the window gives view to the swaying trees in Queens; where Theo is leaning back in her armchair wearing not a hospital gown but the color purple, or deep blue, or warm orange. Where she gets to wear her headscarves, and her earrings, and she gets to throw her head back in a laugh as she listens to the girls banter. Where every day they spend together doesn't feel as though it could be the last one.
A light knock on the door interrupts Anna midway through explaining what being Ann Curry'd means, which is what happened to her not so much of a friend Samantha, who turned out to be the drunkard Sasha was becoming best friends with that one night.
Lauren stands at the door in brown wide-leg trousers, a cream-colored blouse tucked in and a black tuxedo jacket. She is holding a thick envelope in one hand and an arrangement of white and yellow lilies in the other. "Am I interrupting?" she asks, an effortless smile on her face.
Anna jumps off the bed. "Hi! Come in, come in. Let me take this." She accepts the flower arrangement and goes to place it on the small nightstand as she says, "Theo, this is Lauren—I mean, Miss Hoffman. Miss Hoffman, this is Theo. And Elsa. You know Elsa."
"Doctor," Lauren greets her with a kiss on the cheek, "Such a pleasure to see you again." She then turns to Theo, who is slowly perching up and extending a hand for her to shake. Lauren sets the envelope down so that she can take hold of it with both of her own. "Miss Jackson," she says low and warmly.
"You're my baby girl's mentor," Theo comments.
"We can think of it that way," Lauren responds, giving Anna a wink.
"Are you the surprise?"
Hoffman laughs. "I'm not sure," she says. "Am I?" she asks Anna, who nods frantically. "Guess I am," she beams. "But I won't take long. I don't want to take too much of your girls' time."
Theo lifts a hand and does a little wave. "These two act like they don't got no lives to live. They're set on being here every wakin' hour of my day so you can take as much time as you need."
"I'm still on vacation," Elsa retorts.
"I'm not," Anna shrugs, "but I'm not apologizing."
She turns back to Lauren. "How are you doin', Miss Hoffman? I'd offer you a cup of tea or coffee but you see, I've been stuck in here for the past week and a half and they won't let me go nowhere that isn't the restroom. But sit, sit. You can help me with this puzzle. Or if you brought cards we can play that too."
"I'm not sure I've ever won a game of cards," Lauren says in a sheepish way Anna had never witnessed before.
"If I had more time I would'a taught you."
Anna goes to occupy the space that Elsa had been sitting on. "Who's to say there's not enough time?"
Theo looks to her, and smiles. And Anna wishes she hadn't found the answer in her eyes.
"It would have been an honor," Lauren comments so as to keep the conversation on a lighter note. "I know you used to beat the boys from your neighborhood."
Reminiscing blankets her features. "'Cause my daddy..."
"He taught you new tricks every night," she gently finishes for her.
Theo's bewildered gaze shifts to Anna, then to Lauren, until it finally settles back on her. A question is already forming by the time Anna murmurs, "Surprise," and a hand squeezes her shoulder. Knowing it's Elsa's, she gives it a gentle squeeze back.
"What does this mean?" Theo asks in a voice weighed down by disbelief.
The response comes in the form of Lauren pulling the draft out of the envelope. She places it carefully in her hands before the three of them watch in silence as Theo begins to leaf through it. Her palm grazes the pages with reverence, her dark, sunken eyes dance over the words that have been brought to life. Anna can see that she is struggling to fight back the tears.
"It's just the first draft," she explains, "I still need to work a little more on it but..." she trails off, suddenly aware of the crack in her voice.
"Your story's going to be a book, Miss Jackson."
The elder cups her own cheek in embarrassment and lets out a watery laugh. "Oh, please call me Theo. Miss Jackson makes me feel so old."
Lauren laughs softly just as Theo reaches out and touches her face the same way she has so often done with the girls. The moment she beams, the first of her tears begins to trail down her cheek. "God bless you, honey. For this, and for everything you've done for my baby girl."
Placing a hand on top of hers, Lauren cracks a smile. "And you as well, Theo..."
Anna is surprised by the sudden weight on top of her head, but it doesn't take her long to realize that Elsa has rested her chin there, that she has draped her arms over her shoulders, that she is hugging her from behind. She reacts by holding onto her hands the next second and intertwining their fingers together.
But then Lauren is glancing her way to ask, "Did you tell her the other good news?" while the feeling of Elsa's warm hands in hers is making her forget things.
"Which good news?"
The woman smirks before telling Theo: "I'll let her tell you when she's ready."
By the time it hits her which news she's referring to Lauren and Theo have already moved on to another conversation. They chat for minutes on end, as if they had known each other for a long time. It isn't until Lauren has double-checked the time that she announces she must get going, not without reassuring Theo that she would be back for a game of cards even if that meant leaving with a bruised ego. "I'll go gentle on you," Theo promises with a grin despite the heavy sleepiness that is beginning to drag her words. The draft has remained on her lap, safely tucked under her loving hands.
While Elsa and Lauren converse outside, Anna stays where she is on the bed. She's scooted closer, her feet dangling above the floor. "Wanna know the other good news?" she asks Theo.
"You know I'm as impatient as you, sugar."
She giggles before pausing. "The news," she says, "is that Lauren is going to be my agent."
As soon as Theo takes this in her face twists into one of gentle happiness. She reaches for Anna's hand and nestles it in her own. "Do you remember," she whispers, "all those times you thought you wouldn't make it?"
Anna nods with a knotted throat and stinging eyes. "And you always said I would."
"I never doubted, honey."
"No," she says, "You never did..."
A few minutes later, and Anna will have stepped out of the room to say goodbye to Lauren with a hug that catches them both by surprise. On tiptoes and with a quick beating heart, she murmurs a thank you close to her ear. "This means more than you can imagine."
"It's the least I could do," Lauren replies. She takes a step back but keeps her hands on Anna's shoulders. "I'll come back soon to have my ass kicked. But you take a couple of weeks, okay?"
Anna nods with ease and waves one last time before she returns with Elsa back to the room, already discussing who should go buy more chocolate truffles, who should go take a look at the vending machine to see if they have Mountain Dew. Theo berates them from the bed for eating a bunch of crap as they laugh in the middle of playing a game of rock-paper-scissors, neither of them knowing that just a couple of weeks is all they'll have left.