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“Sushi?” he asked.
“That sounds great.”
They walked to the restaurant, a gaudy place with neon signs and an Asian good-luck cat hanging
in the window, and they sat inside at a small table. She ordered a platter of rolls, and as they ate,
Ross told Julia a story she had never heard before. He explained that as a kid, he used to go fishing
with his family. After a long day trawling the water, he’d eat so much fish that he’d get sick to his
stomach. But he just couldn’t stop himself, he said; he’d just keep eating and eating and eating
because it tasted so good.
She laughed. Then (as was typical) Julia did most of the talking and Ross most of the listening.
She told him all about her life over the past year or so. About her boudoir business and how it was
flourishing, and she told him that she had recently stopped drinking.
“You’ve grown up so much,” Ross said to her. “You’re so much more mature now.”
“Well,” Julia said as she swallowed a piece of sushi, “that’s because I’ve been saved.”
Ross knew exactly what she was talking about. They had discussed religion when they were in
college. Back then Ross had told Julia that he had been saved too when he was younger, though he had
floated away from that faith a long time ago.
They sat in silence for a moment in the sushi restaurant, until Julia said, “Can I ask you
something?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“Will you come to church with me on Sunday?”
“Yes,” Ross said. “I’d be happy to.”
With that, Julia suggested they go home and get some rest. Then, just like the old days, they made
love again and fell asleep in each other’s arms, Ross spooning Julia to the sounds of San Francisco.
The following morning they woke up, showered, and set off about their day. They walked back
down past the train station where Julia had arrived the day before, then up to a scrubby diner that sat
at the edge of an intersection.
Julia stared out the window as they waited for their breakfast to arrive. They seemed to be in a
blue-collar neighborhood, a small enclave on the edge of the city with an Irish pub and lots of
middle-class families. Yet among the people walking by, heading to work or a nearby coffee shop,
Julia observed techies in hoodies and Google T-shirts; it seemed gentrification was afoot.
“So what are we doing today?” she asked while taking a sip from the diner’s shitty burned
coffee.
“Well,” Ross said, “I have some work to do, so why don’t you go and wander around the stores
and we can meet up later?”
“That’s fine. I’ll do some shopping.”
After breakfast Ross handed her a set of keys and walked in the direction of Monterey
Boulevard, toward his apartment. Julia turned and walked the other way, toward the Mission District.
Julia had planned to be out all morning, maybe picking up a few dresses or some sexy lingerie,
but she wasn’t dressed for the San Francisco cold. Each time she left a store, a frigid wind engulfed
her, pushing her back in the direction she had come. After an hour of this she’d had enough. She turned
around, giving up on her shopping quest.
It was late morning when she returned to the apartment, placing the key that Ross had given her
into the lock, twisting it, and then slowly swinging the door open.