“I really need to think,” I assured her.

But it was more specific than that. What I needed to do was decide whether I was going to go back to California.

October was the only reason I would ever go back.

She was the reason I left, and she was the only reason I would ever return.

TWO.

Almost three years and twelve hundred miles between us, and there was still a pit in my stomach every time I thought about her. And I thought about her a lot. Though rarely in the present tense. What I mean is, I didn’t often find myself wondering where October was or what she was doing. In my mind she existed almost exclusively in the past, in the memories I had of her, in the short time we had spent together.

For a while after I left, I chose to believe we were doomed from the start. That even if I’d stayed, everything would have eventually busted apart. I chose to believe I was doing us both a favor by taking off. I don’t believe that anymore. Not deep down, anyway. The stomach pit wouldn’t be there if I did.

Nevertheless, from day one there were obstacles, the most obvious one being that October Danko is a world-renowned artist. Granted, she’s only renowned to people in the world that know art. It’s not like she’s a household name or a celebrity. Still, she was accomplished enough when we met that, in comparison, I felt lacking.

That being said, I had never heard of her until I called about the job. The post I’d seen was elusive anyway:

Artist/Studio Assistant WANTED for film/art project(s)—beautiful redwood retreat setting (Mill Valley, CA)—salaried position w/potential to live on property—construction experience a must—call for details.

The location and the live/work situation caught my eye. I was still living in Berkeley and had been yearning to move back to Mill Valley, though I hadn’t pursued that desire in earnest for a couple of reasons. First, I didn’t want to deal with the emotional ramifications of living anywhere near my father. However, he had recently sold his company and retired to Vail, so I could check that excuse off my list.

Bob Harper’s departure aside, I couldn’t afford to live in Mill Valley on my own and probably would have taken the job at October’s even if it had required me to shovel shit for eight hours a day, if for no other reason than it might allow me to live among the redwoods again.

When I called the number on the ad, I reached October’s assistant, Rae. It was almost ten o’clock at night, but she answered right away, a Type-A sort of hello, sharp and no nonsense. She introduced herself and then launched into an explanation about how the position was not to replace her. She was the personal and administrative assistant, she said, and did not work on projects in the studio.

The tone of Rae’s voice told me she took herself and her job very seriously. And I could tell she was protective of her boss. Though when I made reference to her boss—because at that point I still didn’t know October’s name—she said, “I’m more like the artist’s friend who happens to organize her life, yeah?”