Chapters (43)
There isn’t much more to the conversation than that. I stare at the phone for a very long time after she hangs up. What did I do? What just happened?
The following few days pass in a daze. I don’t have the energy to do much so I just stay at home reading, watching television, and looking through old magazines that the owners have laying around.
As much as I try to put it out of my mind, my thoughts keep circling back to Josephine.
Did something happen after I left? Was she just being nice when I came over? Did I imagine the whole interaction altogether?
Five days later, my phone rings while I am swimming in the pool. Enough time has passed that I’m no longer rushing to it to answer it.
The only person who has called me this whole time was Owen and I have no intentions of talking to him.
When I get out and dry myself off, I look down at the screen. It’s Josephine. She doesn’t leave a message but a text arrives a moment later.
Sorry I’ve been MIA this week. Had to catch up on a lot of work. You want to get some lunch?
I stare at the phone reading the words over and over again. Did she really send this?
Sure, where? When? I text back.
An hour later, we meet on the main drag of Palm Canyon Drive at a place called Tac/Quila, a modern Mexican restaurant. Much to my surprise, I am not particularly nervous to see her again.
I probably would have been if we had met up a few days ago like we had planned but after all of this time, I am just annoyed. I don’t want it to show so I keep my feelings bottled up and put a smile on my face as I follow the hostess to her table.
Josephine sits leaning over the menu to a vertical garden that spans the entire wall behind her.
“Wow, what a beautiful spot,” I say when we embrace.
“It’s so good to see you,” Josephine says. “I am so sorry for cancelling before but I just had so much work to catch up on.”
I nod and give her a slight smile. Suddenly, I realize that I don’t even know what she does for a living.
When we order drinks, I ask her about it.
“Oh, you don’t know who I am?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
She puts her elbow on the edge of the table and plays with the back of her hair for a moment.
“Should I?” I ask, tilting my head to one side.
“Well, no, I’m not that famous. But I just thought you knew because you knew about me.”