“I’ll miss her,” I said.
“Understatement,” Mom said.
“I wish I didn’t have to go back to L.A. It was good in so many ways, but it was also really tough.”
“Nana wanted you to take that trip. She financed it, against my better wishes, might I add. One night after you left, she told me, ‘You need to let Sophie go. She’s not a kid anymore. She needs to stretch her boundaries and find her strength.’”
The workers looked down at Nana’s grave. One crossed himself. The other nodded at us respectfully.
“Thank you,” Mom told them, and they left.
“I tried everything to save her, Mom. Stem cells. Acupuncture. Vision Quest. Healing prayers. Chiropractic. A medical intuitive. Aura healing. Yoga intensives—”
“I know you tried everything. She knew it too. You took this incredible journey for her—and yet at the same time, she wanted it to be about you.”
“But maybe I didn’t do enough. Maybe if I had—”
“Stop! If Nana were sitting in her wheelchair right here, right now, she’d say, ‘Sophie. My favorite granddaughter—’”
And I smiled for the first time since I got the dreadful text at Jackson’s party. Since the night I said heartless words to Alejandro. “I’d say, ‘I’m your only granddaughter, Nana.’”
My mom cracked a smile and reached her hand out to me. We held hands and walked down the hill around tombstones and markers. Fall was hitting Oconomowoc early, a sudden gust of wind swirled around us raining down jewel-colored leaves.
“I bet Nana would say, ‘Sophie, I feel ferdrayt. Out of all these exotic experiences, out of all your adventures—what made the biggest difference in your life? What was the most healing?’”
The opening music to “Gimme Shelter” by the Rolling Stones started playing in my brain as I thought about all the therapies. Some I liked. Some were silly, others scary, a few even dangerous. But with each memory, I thought of Alejandro. He gave me shelter. And my heart clenched as I realized I would never feel sheltered like that again.
* * *
I took an uneventful flight back to L.A. I stood on the curb holding the handle of my wheeled luggage as my cab peeled off. I recognized the sweet scent of oranges down the block as I gazed at my old sublet. The new tenant had replaced the ugly lace curtains with fresh new ones.
I closed my eyes and a wave of memories washed over me: the stinging from the slivers of glass in my face. My shock when Alejandro caught me as I fell that first night at the Grill. The laughter that bubbled up within me when he was covered in acupuncture needles. The heat that consumed my body when he kissed me for the first time, right on that doorstep. The bathroom after the fire where he helped me clean up, told me my eyebrow would grow back and carried me to bed where we’d made love for my first time.
It all seemed so far away—like it was a different lifetime ago.
I walked down the narrow concrete path and knocked on Cole’s door. He opened it wearing Ralph Lauren pajamas. Gidget burst from the open doorway like the monster-out-of-the-body in Alien, leaping up and down and scratching my shins. She alternated between barking and howling.
“Ow! Hey! You’re super cute and I missed you too.” I tried to rub her ears and her sloppy little face, but winced as she nipped my ankles. “Stop biting me you little ragamuffin.”
“I might be casually attired, but I am not a ragamuffin,” Cole leaned in and smooched me on my cheek. “Missed you. I’m really, really sorry about your grandmother.” He grabbed my carry-on-bag and pulled it inside his living room.
“Me too.” I took a breath and willed myself to not go to the emotional place. I was practicing saving my tears for private moments.
“My house is your house.” He gestured to his living room and I entered. “Gidget! Get your derriere in here. Now.” She waddled inside and Cole shut the door. “How’s Napoleon?
“Being doted on by my friend, Mary. She’s feeding him cheese and tuna in front of her TV during Packer games. She thinks if she trains or tricks him into doing something YouTube worthy, she can film him and make millions.”
“Cat videos sell you know. Give Mary my number,” Cole said. “Glad you’re back. Second bedroom’s made up. You talk to the Cookie Monster?”
I must have looked sad because Cole pinched my arm. “Hey!” I said.
“Hey back! You’re young and cute. Don’t worry about him. Besides, I’ve got just the ticket to distract you. I tracked down Clark Gable’s old house. It’s for sale in the hills above Sunset. There’s an open house this weekend…”
Besides putting a fork in my eye or running into Pintdick again, I couldn’t think of anything else that I’d prefer less.
“I know. You’re totally tempted,” Cole said. “Thank me later.”
“I’ll thank you now. Unfortunately, I have no time for dead celebrities on this trip. I’m just in town to tie up my loose ends.”
* * *
Early the next morning I handed in my final Genetics 300 term paper to Professor Schillinger. He’d given me an extension when I contacted him about Nana. Next up was a trip to USCLA for the stem cell study. I sat in a small hospital room, fully clothed with my sleeve rolled up above my elbow. Nurse Michaels drew three vials of my blood on his third attempt. “Have you ever considered another profession?” I asked.
He sighed. “I’m still paying off my student loans.” He walked out the door passing Dr. Goddard, who entered and took a seat on the swiveling stool.
He sat across from me and flipped open my chart. “Well Sophie, there’s good news and bad news,” he said and frowned. “Which do you want to start with?”
I couldn’t save my Nana. She lay deep in the ground on top of a pretty hill. A carved marble angel rested on top of her plot, guarding her journey to Heaven. I was half-tempted to get her a Star of David to attract some dear departed souls who might speak Yiddish with her. I’d screwed up Lulu’s relationship with Alejandro.
And I messed with the same beautiful man who would always have trust issues. The guy I missed with every breath I took and every beat of the few pieces that remained of my battered and broken heart. What could be worse? Perhaps I could invade a small third world country and become a dictator.
When it dawned on me. Why did they make me endure the extra MRI? There must have been suspicious results on the previous one. The stem cells were probably going bad. Quite possibly forming tumors in my brain or pushing against my spinal cord. I took a deep breath. “I’d like to start with the bad, please.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
My legs were weak as I trudged down the USCLA hospital corridors for the last time. I didn’t know whether it was from my MS, or nerves.
Turns out the stem cells weren’t hurting me. The jury was still out. We wouldn’t know for a while. There would be new medical breakthroughs and discoveries happening every year for people like me: people that had weird diseases and conditions and frightening situations. Not that these treatments would be approved overnight.
The bad news was I was released, aka, kicked-out-of the stem cell study for non-sanctioned drug use. My post-fire blood draw had found its way back to the powers-that-be who ran the research. My blood showed traces of hallucinogenic plant medicine. And I had signed paperwork out the yin-yang, promising not to do anything that would interfere with the study’s rules and regulations.
Therefore when it came to me, USCLA’s tests were null and void. Which cost them time and money and screwed them over. I apologized to Dr. Goddard and tried to explain my reasons, my motivation about my grandmother, but he was a busy man. He informed me that I could obtain follow-up MRIs performed at the facility of my future doctor’s choice. But my participation here was officially over. He graciously wished me the best of luck, shook my hand and left the room.
I felt like an ass. I came to L.A. with hope and determination. I was leaving for the second time, hopeless—and I had no one to blame but myself. I wiped a few tears away, tru
dged past command central and the two receptionists manning its desk.
“See you in a couple of days,” Phil said.
“Nope, Viking scum, I’m out of here.”
“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask the obvious.
I stopped in my tracks. “Send me an email now and again, would you?” I asked. “Let me know how you are.”
“I don’t have your email.”
“Pilfer it from my chart.”
“That’s in violation of—”
“HIPPA.” I sighed, went to the desk, scrawled my email on a piece of scratch paper and handed it to him. “If I don’t hear from you in two weeks? I’ll track down your email and sign you up for every Green Bay Packer fan club website in North America.”
“I knew you were trouble the minute you walked in the door.” He smiled and pocketed it. “Good luck, Sophie.”
I’d almost made it to the elevator when a magazine skimmed my scalp and landed with a smack on the floor in front of me. “Hey!” Blue yelled. “Not only do you not call me. But then you move, come back into town and don’t call me some more?” She wheeled up to me and ran over my foot. Twice. Then parked on it.
“Ow,” I winced.
“Ow, back.” She reached down, picked up the copy of Cosmo on the floor and smacked my thigh. “How many times have I called, emailed and texted?” She smacked my thigh again. “Am I not worthy of at least one return message?”
“Stop! Yes! I think you’re breaking my toe and for God’s sakes I bruise easily.”
“Good. Something to remember me.”
“Look. I didn’t call because…” My heart dove into my stomach and I felt sick. “My grandmother died.”
“Oh no!” Blue exclaimed and started to cry as she backed off my foot. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it? I’m meeting Lulu, but she’d be cool if I postponed…”
Lulu turned the corner and wheeled toward us in her chair.
Aw shit. But I needed to have this conversation. Do the right thing, even if it was the tough thing. Lulu regarded Blue and me quizzically. “What’s going on?”
“Sophie needs to talk. Can we postpone—”
“I’d like to talk to Lulu privately, if that’s okay?” I asked.
“Anything you need to say to me,” Lulu nodded, “you can say in front of Blue.”
* * *
I sat on a park bench off a pathway that ran between USCLA campus buildings. Lulu and Blue were huddled in close to me. There was a smattering of subtle fall colors on the leaves. Delicate hued yellows, oranges and reds. As if the California trees couldn’t commit to the whole change of season thing.
Fall semester was in full gear and a wide array of students carried backpacks and checked their cells as they walked, looking up at the names on the brick buildings, searching for their classes. A new, exciting journey was beginning for them. My journey was over. The exception being the apologies I needed to offer.
“Lulu—I had no idea you were in love with Alejandro when I met him. If I knew, if I had an inkling? I would have removed myself from that picture so quickly it would have made your head spin. Never in a thousand years would I have wanted to hurt you, Jackson, or Alejandro.”
“Got it,” she said. “But—”
“No buts. The night of your folks’ party, this whole thing just came out of nowhere and smacked me in the face. I was shocked when Jackson told me I’d hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never interfere in anything between you and Alejandro ever again. If it makes you feel any better, we haven’t even spoken since the night of the party.”
I’d stay away from Alejandro. But, I’d miss him for a lifetime.
“Sophie. You and I need to get something straight,” Lulu said. “My brother might run his mouth off, but he doesn’t speak for me.”
“Okay,” I said.
Blue rolled her eyes. “Just tell her, Lulu.”
“Jackson has always wanted Alex and I to be a couple. And don’t get me wrong. I’ve always liked the guy. We grew up together. Shared a couple of make out sessions in high school. After the accident everyone just assumed because we spent so much time together, we’d fall in love. But I never felt it for him. I never felt anything profound for anybody until a while after my accident. And no, I’m not going to tell you his name.”
“So this means, this means…” I stumbled with my words. “This means you’re not in love with Alejandro?”
“Good God, no,” Lulu said. “Maybe Jackson is. He’s been an asshat ever since we hit puberty. If you love Alex—by all means, go for it. And I apologize to you for not making this clear the night of the benefit. But everything that night was bat shit crazy.”
“It really was,” I said as my mind whirled with the possibilities. Could we still have a chance? Would he take me back? “Thank you,” I said and fumbled through my purse and pulled out a business card. Lizzie Sparks’s private email was inscribed on it. “Thank you so much.” I stood up and despite their protests, kissed them both on their cheeks. “You and Blue are the best. And I will keep in touch. I promise.”
“Or next time, I will break your toe,” Blue said.
* * *
I was back in Lizzie Sparks’ cozy office room with one barred window that was cracked open. She was in demand, so popular as a medical intuitive and so wise. I was so clueless. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d first met with her. I scrunched forward on an older upholstered chair and she sat across from me, holding my hand.
“I’m so glad you came back Sophie. How has your journey been?”
I didn’t know what to say. The world, my life, everything was all so different from three and a half months ago, when I first consulted with her.
“I came here for healing,” I said. “I thought I found it. But it wasn’t a modality or a guru. It wasn’t a technique or a surgical procedure. It was guy.”
She nodded. “Tell me his name. A little about him.”
“Alejandro Maxwell Levine. He’s kind. Funny. Loving. Sexy as sin…”
“Handsome.” Lizzie smiled.
“Oh my God, you have no idea!” I returned her smile. “He drove me all over Los Angeles looking for healing. He helped me so much. Then he told me his secrets. And they weren’t simple. He said he felt like a monster. That he broke people. But, honestly? He never meant to hurt anyone. He made a bad decision. He’s been paying for it ever since. He’s more than owned it.”
“Did you tell him your secrets?”
I extricated my hand from Lizzie’s, stood up and paced the small room.
“I tried. Our timing sucked.”
“Your timing was perfect,” Lizzie said.
“How can that be? I screwed up everything between us. He rescued me, you know.” I glared down at her. “From a bad choice I made. And then someone accidentally revealed my biggest secret. So I told him— everything.”
“But you didn’t,” Lizzie said. “You didn’t tell him everything.”
I shook my head. “I did. I’d already told him about my Nana. I told him about my MS. I told him the healers weren’t for a book. They were to save Nana’s life.”
“But you didn’t tell him the truth about why you left him. Why you pushed him away.”
“That’s obvious. I did it for him! With me out of the picture, I can practically predict his story. Some day when he’s living in his beautiful house, with his perfect wife and their two smart, healthy children that aren’t staring down the gun, scared about contracting some dreadful genetic-related disease—he’ll thank me.”
“He won’t. Because that’s not his story,” she said.
“Why not? If I could save one life out of this whole journey, at least I’ve saved his.”
“But you didn’t. You took it away when you didn’t allow him to make up his own mind. Because in this young man’s ‘story’—with his perfect house, wife and children—his life will still be incomplete. There will always be a missing puzzle piece. Why did the girl who said sh
e loved him walk away so callously. He’ll never know. And that will eat at him like an ulcer.”
I started crying. “Have I screwed us up forever?”
“Maybe,” Lizzie said. “Maybe not. You need to track him down. Have a conversation with him. You need to make it right. No matter what the outcome.”
* * *
I thanked Lizzie. I was back in Venice and a plan was percolating in my brain. I wasn’t going to risk running into Pintdick today, so her assistant ordered a taxi for me.
My first visit was to Javier’s tattoo place, Inkbaby, on the boardwalk. I instructed the cabbie, to wait for me, meter running, on the closest cross street. I walked half a block and entered the shop. Javier chatted with a potential customer, showing him a variety template designs for tats. I bided my time pretending to check out designs for a few minutes until the man left. Javier swiveled his attention onto me. “Sophie!”
“Javier. Famous Venice Beach artist!”
He walked from behind the counter and regarded me with concern. “You’re all right. Thank God.” he said. “We didn’t hear anything about you and we were worried. You look thin. But you’re well, yes?”
“Kind of. My grandmother died.” I thumped my fist on top of my chest right over my heart. “My heart’s a little broken.”
“Siento mucho la perdida.” He leaned in and bear-hugged me with his muscular, painted up arms. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He released me. “It’s going to take a while, you know.”
“I know. Javier, look. I need to talk to Alejandro. He won’t return my calls. Have you seen him?”
He dropped my hands and sighed. “He was here a couple of weeks ago. But I haven’t heard from him since. Have you talked to one of the other Drivers? Like Nick?”
“Not yet. Great idea. Can I have his number?”
The Story of You and Me Page 24
