After Anna finished, her aunt asked whether she wanted advice or whether she had just needed to get this off her chest. Anna had never been asked that question, but when she thought about it, she said it had felt good to talk about everything openly and honestly and perhaps she still needed some more time alone with her thoughts. Her aunt agreed that sounded sensible and explained she and her husband used to live in West LA but eventually moved to Malibu because she felt the ocean helped her think things through, which for a writer was important.

That night Jules’s husband, Wilson, grilled four filet mignons and eight ears of fresh corn, and they ate together outside on the deck, with Kimba getting her own steak at the end of the meal that she ate in one hilarious bite. Anna loved hearing gossipy Hollywood stories that had nothing to do with her. She didn’t think of her own problems once that night, and when she went to bed, Kimba joined her. Anna’s dogs were never allowed to sleep on the bed, but Aunt Jules said they lived their lives by beach house rules, which meant sand was gonna get everywhere anyway so to hell with rules.

The next morning Aunt Jules drove Anna to the airport, but they didn’t talk much. Anna stared out at the Pacific Ocean to her right and fantasized about never going back East and just living at the beach forever. When they pulled up to the terminal, Anna felt her anxiety rise like the tide and said, “Okay, I’m scared. I think I need advice now.”

“Trust your gut, Anna,” her aunt said. “I know that sounds lame, but from what I’ve heard you made every right decision you could over the last few months. You fell in love, you fucked up a little, but it’s all gonna work out. Just keep your head down, and eventually you’ll make it through the shit pipe to freedom.”

“Okay…” Anna replied tentatively. “What’s that?”