The Overlap

by Lynn Costa

  We do make a good couple, I thought as I omnisciently watched myself walk arm in arm with Zack Buchanan. For the duration of our short walk in the real world back to MetroGen, the satisfaction of this imagined stroll with Zack helped keep my anxiety at bay.

  * * *

  Friday afternoon passed uneventfully, even though Dave Evers was in the same meeting between 3:00 and 4:00 that I was. He seemed to be in a better mood today than yesterday – at least he wasn’t being a total jerk today – but by the time 3:00 had rolled around, I had dismissed the idea of asking Dave about some sort of impromptu weekend assignment. Beyond the fact that at this late point it would be nearly impossible for such an assignment to be lined up, I began to think that I would be setting a horrible precedent not only with Dave Evers personally but with the firm as a whole. I really liked my job and all that, but to me my job and career had to be kept in balance with other aspects of my life... particularly relationships. And the last thing I wanted was to acquire a reputation as somebody with no personal life, or someone who will drop whatever Saturday or Sunday plans she has on a moment’s notice to work all weekend...any weekend, whenever and wherever she might be needed.

  So with that stupid idea off the table, I really had no reason to engage in any discussion with Dave Evers this Friday afternoon past offering a perfunctory “have a good weekend” as the 4:00 meeting broke up. When I said that, Dave did shoot me a puzzled, almost disdainful look as if I had said that because right then and there I was leaving for the afternoon, and he looked like he was going to say something nasty to me. But he must have caught himself when Kensington – who was also in that meeting – came over and asked me what conference room our next meeting was in. I flicked my cell phone to the calendar and showed her the screen, and we left Dave Evers – who I knew wasn’t in that meeting – behind, maybe even thankful he had choked off making some sort of snarky “leaving early today?” remark.

  That last meeting did end at 4:30, though, and just like this time last Friday I was free as a bird as I slipped out of the MetroGen offices for the last time this week. Unlike last Friday, though, when I immediately scrambled to see if I could change my nail appointment to a sooner time, tonight I had no immediate plans after work. Kensie offered to go with me someplace nearby for Happy Hour, but I knew from our lunchtime conversation that she had already planned a long drive up to Calabasas to spend the weekend at home with her family since her brother Jeff was going to be there all weekend. She only had 25 miles to cover but during Friday afternoon rush hour, up both the 405 and 101, that could easily take an hour and a half... even longer if there were any accidents, something all but inevitable. And I didn’t like the idea of Kensington making that drive with even one or two drinks in her. Traffic wouldn’t be moving that fast, but reaction time would be very important as the L.A. drivers on the road with her zipped from one lane to another, even in stop-and-go traffic.

  I thanked her but declined her offer, and I could tell she was secretly grateful. I mean, all she would really be doing was keeping me company on sort of a death watch for my relationship with Dustin, right? We had talked the whole thing out during lunch yesterday and today; there wasn’t anything new to say. So as much as I would have loved her company as I did my best to gather my strength for what I had to do, the right thing was for her to get on the road and get home to the Valley and help her parents deal with her brother and his problems.

  Courtney had a date tonight; some guy she had already gone out with six or seven times before, a stockbroker a year older than her. She had slept with him a couple times already but he sort of ditched her over the summer, always coming up with some excuse or another why he wasn’t available. By mid-August she had written him off but he had called her on Tuesday, asking her to dinner at some new place over in Santa Monica. Both Kensington and I had been on the side of telling the guy to get lost. We were all but certain he had hooked up with someone else but now that other relationship must be over, so he was recycling through girls he had gone out with. But Courtney said that in regards to him she was pretty much interested only in a really nice dinner that he would pay for and maybe some no-strings-attached sex, so why not? Kensie and I each reluctantly agreed that as long as Courtney maintained the upper hand – even if she did wind up in bed with him – and didn’t get herself hurt in the process, then sure; why not?

  I did have other friends at work beyond Kensington and Courtney, and I thought about calling some of them who were either working on other projects around the L.A. area or who were working out of town and would be flying in soon. Or maybe I should contact some of my college friends from ASU who were out here in L.A. but every single one of whom I had barely seen during the past year. But doing so would require me to catch any of them up on the whole saga involving Zack and Dustin, and to be honest I didn’t have the energy to run through the whole story from the beginning.

  So what I did, then, was head home and get out of my work clothes and put on my running shoes, shorts and a cute top. I immediately headed back out of my apartment building and away from the busiest streets with a lot of stop lights, the idea being to walk to a certain point through the Friday afternoon traffic and bustle before starting to run. I would then head up into Laurel Canyon, doing my best to luxuriate in the mild early evening temperature. Official sunset was still about 35 minutes away as my run began and I would have another fifteen or twenty minutes of light after that point, so I could easily traverse close to five miles up and back to the point where I would have started running, and then cool off walking back through the streetlights of the Beverly Hills roads.

  I was just at the point where I was going to begin running when the music playing on my cell phone suddenly shut off for a second or two before transitioning to the ring of an incoming call. I reached into the pocket of my shorts where I kept my cell phone while running and felt my heart skip a beat when I saw that familiar picture of Dustin’s smiling face on the screen and his name across the top.

  OMG, he was already here! That was my first thought; that he must have caught an earlier flight out of L.A. and was calling from LAX or even his apartment – or maybe my apartment! – to surprise me with the news of his arrival.

  I answered hesitatingly.

  “Hi, Dustin,” I said, waiting for him to drop the bombshell.

  I could hear airport announcement noise in the background. At least he wasn’t camped outside my apartment, I thought to myself, though he may very well be at LAX rather than O’Hare right at this moment.

  “Hang on a second, Lindsey!” The aggravation in his voice was unmistakable. I couldn’t make out exactly what the announcement was saying, but it was something about “delayed flight” and “gate change.”

  “Okay, I’m here now,” he finally said as the background noise quieted. At first I thought “here” did indeed mean LAX, but Dustin corrected that impression.

  “Unbelievable,” he continued in highly agitated tones. “We’re supposed to leave at 8:55 Chicago time and they start boarding us, but all of a sudden they announce that there is some kind of mechanical problem with our aircraft and everyone who had gotten on board needs to get off...”

  “So is your flight cancelled?” I interrupted, wishing as I finished those few short words that the hopefulness in my mind didn’t carry over into my voice... or if it did, he couldn’t tell over the phone connection and with the airport background noise.

  “I don’t know; I don’t think so,” he answered. “They’re supposed to make an announcement in half an hour about an updated departure time, but I don’t think that means we’re getting out of here in a half hour; only an announcement.”

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out. And curiously, I really was. Like Dustin, and pretty much everyone else, I’ve had my share of airport and airplane travel frustrations... seemingly more and more each year. Even as I was listening to him and responding with those two quick words, my mind was doing some quick mental math. Half an hour delay put him
into L.A. at midnight, but like Dustin said the announcement, not the departure, was coming in half an hour; close to 7:30 my time here in L.A. So let’s say he left a half hour after that; now it was 12:30 he’d get into LAX, and around 1:30 up to our part of the L.A. area.

  Still: that left enough time for him to show up at my door, though. Was I up for a breakup scene at 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning any more than I was for one at 1:00?

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Dustin’s voice interrupted my mental calculations. “I want to check into alternate flights.”

  “Okay,” was all I said and then the line went dead, meaning that Dustin abruptly hung up. No “I love you” or even “see you soon, I hope” or anything like that. Which was good, of course, considering what was awaiting him even though he didn’t know it. Still, though, I curiously found myself just a teeny bit hurt at his omission...

  * * *

  Two more hours passed until Dustin gave me the definitive word. He was getting on a plane to L.A. tonight out of Chicago but not until 11:30 P.M. their time, arriving at LAX at 2:00 in the morning our time which meant he would get up to Beverly Hills sometime around 2:45, maybe 3:00. Before I could even make the suggestion, Dustin made the decision for us.

  “I think it’ll be too late for me to come over.” His tones were a combination of apologetic, pissed off, and sad. Plus I was pretty sure that Dustin was waiting for his girlfriend who hadn’t seen him for almost three weeks to go “Oh no! PLEASE come over as soon as you get in, no matter what time it is! I NEED you!”

  Nothing doing, of course.

  “I’ll come over in the morning as soon as I get a couple hours of sleep, okay?” he continued after I didn’t say anything.

  “Okay,” was all I said, all of a sudden thankful that we had never given each other keys to our respective apartments. Even though I spent many nights in his bed and he spent almost as many nights in mine, we had still kept some boundaries in place.

  Was he picking up the hint from 2,000 miles away that something was wrong? I wasn’t sure but I sure wasn’t going out of my way to hide the fact that all was not well. I wasn’t coming right out on the phone and saying “Dustin, we need to talk” or anything like that, but the short, clipped, almost unfeeling responses coming from my side of these conversations might as well have been a gigantic highway billboard.

  At least that’s how I saw it, but quite possibly in the middle of airport hell way out in Chicago, Dustin was oblivious to any signals, conscious or subconscious, coming across the cell phone connection.

  And that’s where we left things this Friday night. He would text me when he was finally on a plane about to take off and right before shutting down his cell phone, and we would see each other sometime tomorrow morning.

  B-Day – Breakup Day – had been slightly delayed.

  * * *

  Since it was still relatively early here in L.A., I had time on my hands to think. I was glad – very glad – that Dustin’s travel had been messed up. I so much wanted to do the breakup scene in the morning or maybe the early afternoon than very late at night. I felt as if I would have more... I don’t know, personal strength or courage or something to say what needed to be said if I could do so in the daylight hours.

  With the breakup scene pushed off, I plopped onto the couch in my apartment and looked at the maroon and gold ASU wall clock my parents had gotten me as a present for my dorm room when I first went to college.

  9:25 P.M., on a Friday night.

  WWZD.

  What Was Zack Doing?

  Chapter 10

  Saturday, September 21st

  U awake?

  The text-ding from my cell phone pulled me out of the security blanket of sleep that had kept me away from panicky thoughts about what was ahead today. My eyes were so sleep-crusted together that I needed a good four or five seconds to be able to open them and then force them into focus to even find my phone on the nightstand next to my bed.

  Sure enough, the “U awake?” text was from Dustin. My eyes still couldn’t focus enough to make out the time that showed in tiny white numbers at the top of the screen, so I quickly flicked the phone off and on so I could read the larger-number time on the lock screen.

  7:33 A.M.

  So Dustin could be planning to show up here at any time now!

  I took a deep breath and texted him back that I was, and about twenty seconds later I received this text back from him:

  Got text at 715 this morning from partner mandatory team videoconf at 800 this morning. Hope doesn’t go more than 1 hr will text you when I’m on way over

  So: if his video conference did last a full hour, then I might expect to see him here around 9:15, maybe 9:30.

  My mind started preparing.

  But also, another part of my mind insisted on reminding me that I still had not heard one single thing – no text, no phone call – from Zack since more than 24 hours ago now when we both left his apartment after the same time after showering (and having sex in his shower).

  Nothing!

  That other half of my mind picked up where it had left off last night: trying to figure out why I hadn’t heard anything from Zack at all. Maybe he was afraid to text me last night because he thought I would be in the middle of my breakup with Dustin, or leading up to it, and didn’t want to put me in the awkward position of having Dustin see his name pop up on my phone’s alert screen, or me having to sidestep Dustin’s “who just texted you?” inquiry. Maybe...

  Or perhaps last night Zack was out at dinner with a prospective client he had connected with at the conference, and by the time the business dinner ritual had concluded he had figured it was too late to text me, even if I had already concluded my unpleasant breakup scene with Dustin. Perhaps Zack was giving me my space to cry and be sad by myself. Perhaps...

  Or possibly Zack had met some woman at the conference – someone he already knew but hadn’t seen in a while, or maybe someone he had never previously met – and after all of the presentations and panel discussions had concluded the two of them were standing around a high top in some trendy downtown San Francisco bar similar to Cerise, after which they agreed to accompany each other to dinner. Maybe for the second time in less than a week Zack was telling his “Trojans Roll Over ‘Cocks” high school newspaper story while sipping port with a woman across the table from him thinking that this guy across from her was really hot. Possibly? OMG, I hoped not!

  Every time thoughts like that last one forced their way into my mind I did my best to convince myself that I had no basis whatsoever – NONE, DAMN IT!!! – for imaging such a scene; that the only reason my mind kept coming back to that was because if Zack and I hadn’t met, and hadn’t slept together a couple times already, I could definitely see him doing exactly that while he was up in San Francisco. But with me in the picture, there was NO WAY he would, even if some girl threw herself at him.

  Still, I never heard a word from him all of Friday afternoon and now as of almost 7:45 A.M. Saturday morning: still nothing.

  I thought about this time a year ago when Dustin and I both loaded the “stalker app” onto our cell phones. At least that’s what we called it. It’s an app that allows two people to use the GPS signal from each other’s phones to see on a map where they are. You have to give the other person permission to be able to locate you, and when Dustin and I moved to L.A. we both decided to do this on a whim. I mean, even though we were newly together we were exclusive, so it wasn’t like either of us was worried about having to hide being in a particular place – like on a date with someone else, right? – from the other.

  In fact, we used to occasionally use the app to locate the other person, save a screen shot as a picture, and then text that picture to the other person with an emoticon of two eyeballs. You know; “I’M WATCHING YOU!” It was all in fun. And in fact when we were both working on opposite sides of the L.A. metro area for a while (me way up north in Ventura, Dustin down south in Orange County) and headed back to our apartmen
ts on the same night, we would occasionally use the stalker app to see where the other one was to get some idea of whether we would be getting back to wherever we planned to meet at the same time, or if one of us would be way ahead of the other.

  Shortly after New Year’s I upgraded to a new cell phone model, and a month later Dustin did the same, and neither one of us reactivated the “locate me” permissions on the stalker app. In fact, I never even reloaded the app onto my new phone and I honestly can’t tell you why, but we never did... nor did we ever discuss the change. So by the time Dustin headed off to Chicago for his project from hell and I was at Cerise or Vivant or Solazarse with Zack – as well as spending nights in his apartment – Dustin had no way to home in on my cell signal, see where I was, and think WTF???

  Right now, though, I wish Zack and I had the stalker app activated for each other. I REALLY would have liked to have been able to see where he was last night, and where he was this morning. Of course, this morning what I would almost certainly see that Zack was at the hotel where the conference is... but I would have no way of knowing if he was in his room or – God, I HATED thinking about the possibility, why does my mind keep DOING this to me??? – somebody else’s room. Maybe somebody should invent an advanced stalker app that can figure that out; what floor and even what room in a hotel or an office building someone is in. Maybe I should call the super-geeks we had wasted our time with on Tuesday in New York and get them working on that...