Chapter 3 – Interlude
Notes: See Chapter 1.
[LOS ANGELES – hours later, mid-afternoon – somewhere on a freeway]
She sips the last of her iced coffee idly, looks at her watch and wonders when the traffic jam will let up. She watches an irate man in a business suit exchanging words and shaking fists at another man the next lane over about 2 cars ahead of her.
She laughs out loud, unexpectedly, as the man in the suit offers an anatomically impossible suggestion for the other man to try. But the moment of humor is brief, and she checks her watch again. She's due for a meeting with Vaughn in 20 minutes and she doesn't want to be late.
Her cell phone rings. She picks it up and reflexively checks the call display. It's Will, calling from work.
"Hey."
"Hey, Syd."
"I can't believe you're actually at work at this time of day. Because you're usually over at the house parked on the couch. Cleaning out the fridge, eating both Francie and me out of house and home and then having the audacity to ask her for the umpteenth time who is sleeping with whom on her favorite soap operas. You know, on General Days of My Children."
He snorts. "It's All My Children, I'll have you know. Sometimes you really crack me up. Really, Syd, you do," he says, deadpan, then laughing.
Her heart lifts slightly, and for a moment it feels like things are almost as they were a few weeks ago, before everything changed.
"So, ah, listen, I was wondering if you and Francie want to go out tonight and catch that film noir movie festival. Starts at 7, plenty of time for you to come home, get ready, and take in some Bogie and Bacall..."
She starts her car up now; traffic is starting to move. She balances the phone between her jaw and shoulder as she begins to drive.
She sighs. "I'm not sure if I can. I have a meeting…to go to in 20 minutes. And I…may have more meetings in the next few days or so."
She hears him emit an equally long sigh.
"Okay," he says.
By now he understands implicitly what she means when she says she has a meeting to go to. Or when she says has a trip to take somewhere, halfway across the country. Or when she says she's been a klutz and banged her arm on a door…again.
He understands the jargon now, but he is still by no means comfortable with it, with what she does. But he tries, for both their sakes, to pretend everything is like what it was before and for that she is grateful.
He coughs to break the awkward moment. "Okay, well, I'll talk to you when you get back then."
"I'll call you when I get out," she says softly. "Bye."
She hangs up and looks at her phone for a second and focuses on the road again, wondering if the traffic will ever clear up to let her get to the warehouse on time.
Notes: See Chapter 1.
[LOS ANGELES – hours later, mid-afternoon – somewhere on a freeway]
She sips the last of her iced coffee idly, looks at her watch and wonders when the traffic jam will let up. She watches an irate man in a business suit exchanging words and shaking fists at another man the next lane over about 2 cars ahead of her.
She laughs out loud, unexpectedly, as the man in the suit offers an anatomically impossible suggestion for the other man to try. But the moment of humor is brief, and she checks her watch again. She's due for a meeting with Vaughn in 20 minutes and she doesn't want to be late.
Her cell phone rings. She picks it up and reflexively checks the call display. It's Will, calling from work.
"Hey."
"Hey, Syd."
"I can't believe you're actually at work at this time of day. Because you're usually over at the house parked on the couch. Cleaning out the fridge, eating both Francie and me out of house and home and then having the audacity to ask her for the umpteenth time who is sleeping with whom on her favorite soap operas. You know, on General Days of My Children."
He snorts. "It's All My Children, I'll have you know. Sometimes you really crack me up. Really, Syd, you do," he says, deadpan, then laughing.
Her heart lifts slightly, and for a moment it feels like things are almost as they were a few weeks ago, before everything changed.
"So, ah, listen, I was wondering if you and Francie want to go out tonight and catch that film noir movie festival. Starts at 7, plenty of time for you to come home, get ready, and take in some Bogie and Bacall..."
She starts her car up now; traffic is starting to move. She balances the phone between her jaw and shoulder as she begins to drive.
She sighs. "I'm not sure if I can. I have a meeting…to go to in 20 minutes. And I…may have more meetings in the next few days or so."
She hears him emit an equally long sigh.
"Okay," he says.
By now he understands implicitly what she means when she says she has a meeting to go to. Or when she says has a trip to take somewhere, halfway across the country. Or when she says she's been a klutz and banged her arm on a door…again.
He understands the jargon now, but he is still by no means comfortable with it, with what she does. But he tries, for both their sakes, to pretend everything is like what it was before and for that she is grateful.
He coughs to break the awkward moment. "Okay, well, I'll talk to you when you get back then."
"I'll call you when I get out," she says softly. "Bye."
She hangs up and looks at her phone for a second and focuses on the road again, wondering if the traffic will ever clear up to let her get to the warehouse on time.