make it worse. He was well beyond saving by anyone.
A N HOUR LATER, BACK AT the flat, Jake was in bed when Anna appeared in the doorway in her Chinese pajamas. She had been fast asleep when he got home, so he couldn’t imagine how she could have heard him crying from the other end of the hall.
“Is there something I can do, dear?”
“No. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice at listening.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
She turned to leave, then stopped abruptly, wobbling a little as she did so. “Maybe this Sunday we can go to the new science museum in the park.”
“Sure. That would be nice.”
“I hear they have green things growing on the roof.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
“Good night, dear. You’re a man among men.”
It was pretty much the same thing Jonah had said, but this time the compliment actually meant something.
Chapter 12
The Elusive Leia
S hawna’s homeless woman had begun to haunt her. That’s how she thought of her now—as her homeless woman—since the poor creature had a way of materializing at the oddest times, though never in the actual flesh. Shawna would flash on her scalded face in the midst of an Almodovar film at the Sundance Kabuki, or down at the Rainbow Grocery when she was scooping rice from the bulk-foods bin. Once, she even dreamed about the woman, dreamed that the two of them were dining at the Cliff House, gossiping like old friends as they admired the sunset, though—as dreams had a way of doing—it wasn’t the sleek new Cliff House but the funky old one with the greasy photographs and flocked wallpaper that Shawna remembered from her childhood.
What bothered her most was that she didn’t know the woman’s name. Her image was becoming clearer all the time in Shawna’s promiscuous imagination, but she still lacked identification, that all-important peg on which to hang her humanity. How could you even survive, Shawna wondered, when no one bothered to learn your name?
She drove back to the underpass one foggy afternoon in the hope of a reunion, but the only person there was an old hippie with a sign reading GULF WAR VET . While waiting at the light, Shawna lowered her window and signaled him with a $10 bill.
“Excuse me,” she yelled.
The guy put down his sign and came hobbling toward her. As he took the bill, he examined it at length. “Money looks fake these days, don’t it?”
She smiled but passed on the discussion, conscious of how little time she had. “I was wondering if you know a woman who sometimes signs on this corner. Red tracksuit. Forty or fifty years old, maybe.”
The guy nodded so slowly she couldn’t tell if it was a response or a tic.
“You do know her, then?”
“She ain’t here.”
“I see that. Do you know where she might be?”
“You could try the traffic island on South Van Ness.”
“Do you know her name?”
The guy shrugged. “We call her Leia.”
“What do you mean, you call her that?”
“Like Princess Leia.”
“But . . . why?”
“I dunno. It’s a nickname. Ask her.”
The light turned green, signaling an end to their conversation. “Thanks a lot,” she said, extending her hand. “My name’s Shawna, by the way.”
The guy just looked at her hand for a moment, as if it might somehow contaminate him. “Good for you,” he muttered, before shuffling back to pick up his sign.
•••
S HAWNA LOOKED FOR THE WOMAN at the traffic island on South Van Ness, but she was nowhere to be found. There were several other signers working the island, but Shawna balked at the thought of interrogating another stranger about the elusive Leia.
That night, when she and Otto were eating at Weird Fish in the Mission, she told him about her abortive search, knowing already that he would question her motives.
“Is this about your writing?” he asked.
“No. I mean, it could be eventually, but it’s not about that now.”
“Then what?”
“I dunno. I just feel like . . .
A N HOUR LATER, BACK AT the flat, Jake was in bed when Anna appeared in the doorway in her Chinese pajamas. She had been fast asleep when he got home, so he couldn’t imagine how she could have heard him crying from the other end of the hall.
“Is there something I can do, dear?”
“No. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice at listening.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
She turned to leave, then stopped abruptly, wobbling a little as she did so. “Maybe this Sunday we can go to the new science museum in the park.”
“Sure. That would be nice.”
“I hear they have green things growing on the roof.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
“Good night, dear. You’re a man among men.”
It was pretty much the same thing Jonah had said, but this time the compliment actually meant something.
Chapter 12
The Elusive Leia
S hawna’s homeless woman had begun to haunt her. That’s how she thought of her now—as her homeless woman—since the poor creature had a way of materializing at the oddest times, though never in the actual flesh. Shawna would flash on her scalded face in the midst of an Almodovar film at the Sundance Kabuki, or down at the Rainbow Grocery when she was scooping rice from the bulk-foods bin. Once, she even dreamed about the woman, dreamed that the two of them were dining at the Cliff House, gossiping like old friends as they admired the sunset, though—as dreams had a way of doing—it wasn’t the sleek new Cliff House but the funky old one with the greasy photographs and flocked wallpaper that Shawna remembered from her childhood.
What bothered her most was that she didn’t know the woman’s name. Her image was becoming clearer all the time in Shawna’s promiscuous imagination, but she still lacked identification, that all-important peg on which to hang her humanity. How could you even survive, Shawna wondered, when no one bothered to learn your name?
She drove back to the underpass one foggy afternoon in the hope of a reunion, but the only person there was an old hippie with a sign reading GULF WAR VET . While waiting at the light, Shawna lowered her window and signaled him with a $10 bill.
“Excuse me,” she yelled.
The guy put down his sign and came hobbling toward her. As he took the bill, he examined it at length. “Money looks fake these days, don’t it?”
She smiled but passed on the discussion, conscious of how little time she had. “I was wondering if you know a woman who sometimes signs on this corner. Red tracksuit. Forty or fifty years old, maybe.”
The guy nodded so slowly she couldn’t tell if it was a response or a tic.
“You do know her, then?”
“She ain’t here.”
“I see that. Do you know where she might be?”
“You could try the traffic island on South Van Ness.”
“Do you know her name?”
The guy shrugged. “We call her Leia.”
“What do you mean, you call her that?”
“Like Princess Leia.”
“But . . . why?”
“I dunno. It’s a nickname. Ask her.”
The light turned green, signaling an end to their conversation. “Thanks a lot,” she said, extending her hand. “My name’s Shawna, by the way.”
The guy just looked at her hand for a moment, as if it might somehow contaminate him. “Good for you,” he muttered, before shuffling back to pick up his sign.
•••
S HAWNA LOOKED FOR THE WOMAN at the traffic island on South Van Ness, but she was nowhere to be found. There were several other signers working the island, but Shawna balked at the thought of interrogating another stranger about the elusive Leia.
That night, when she and Otto were eating at Weird Fish in the Mission, she told him about her abortive search, knowing already that he would question her motives.
“Is this about your writing?” he asked.
“No. I mean, it could be eventually, but it’s not about that now.”
“Then what?”
“I dunno. I just feel like . . .