Chapter 31
T he next week played out in movie montage moments.
Willow got us tickets to see a reunion tour for one of my favorite bands from when I was younger, and so Alex, Benny, Mom, Willow, Petra, and I went to the Hollywood Bowl, singing until our throats burned, our ears ringing as we walked back to our cars parked on Hollywood Boulevard.
Alex, Benny, and I went to the farmers market in Malibu one Saturday and taste-tested sweet clementines, thick olive oil, and Ojai-grown honey.
We laughed until we cried, then stayed all day at the beach until a vibrant pink, purple, and orange sunset burst through the sky like a painting just for us.
Mom and I went to the movies at Universal CityWalk, ears blown out from the IMAX, sharing Raisinets and a large popcorn doused in butter.
Alex and I hiked in Griffith Park and then went up to the Observatory, learning all about space while lying down in the domed theater, Alex’s warm hand in mine throughout the entire film, him peppering me with little kisses every couple minutes or so, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
Benny and I drove out to Ojai, went to their iconic used bookstore, ate a delicious lunch of all fresh and local ingredients, then got expensive massages at a spa.
Near Pacific Palisades, I went on a hike by myself and stood at the summit, overlooking a sweeping expanse of the ocean while sticky, sweaty, and thirsty.
I threw my arms out at the view and smiled into the sunshine and took a bunch of deep breaths, and my body hummed with the sweet feeling of accomplishment and being in nature and giving myself a fucking break for once.
Afterward, I devoured fries and a Double-Double and a crisp Diet Coke from In-N-Out.
One late night, Jasper came over and asked if Benny, Mom, and I wanted to go to Willow’s show at Hotel Café. We went and she was wonderful and I wondered if her career was going to take off the way she’d dreamed. She certainly deserved it; I found myself holding a rare instance of hope for her.
Alex, Benny, Mom, and I went to Venice Beach, rented bikes, and rode them all the way to Santa Monica for fish tacos, and then back to Venice, an early October heat wave tanning our skin, salty sweat caked on our flushed faces.
Sitting on the sand in Venice, Alex leaned over to me and asked, “So, about that beach getaway we talked about before? I got the room. Still want to go?”
The answer was the only word I’d been saying since I’d been in LA: Yes.