Lost In Pacific Time

The sun wakes me up and I roll over expecting to find Milan on his side of the bed. But he isn’t. I rub my eyes before crawling out of Milan’s bed and into the bathroom. My eyes are still slightly red from last night where I basically cried myself to sleep.

“It had to happen eventually” I tell my reflection, I wipe my face down with Clinque toner and walk down the stairs to the kitchen still clad in my silk PJs.

Sure enough Milan is down there, I wince at the protein bar he is chewing. I take a bowl out of the cupboard and fill it with some strawberry granola and honey flavored Greek yogurt. If I was back in LA I’d be eating cereal but Milan doesn’t have any of the fun kids cereal, all he has are Kashi cereals with 7 whole grains and antioxidants. Then again we are in Canada, they don’t sell Cookie Crisps or Trix. I sudden have a craving for Oreo Os, the Oreo flavored breakfast cereal. Sadly they’ve been discontinued for a while now and only place I can remember that still sells them is South Korea. I’m successful, I should be able to find connections that can hook me up.

“We should get going,” Milan says absently.

“My flight doesn’t board until five” I reply washing my bowl in the sink.

“I know but I have a day planned for you.”
_______

Its Amber’s last day. Like my day with the cup I try to create a perfect day for her. She deserves a proper sent off. We take one last drive around the city. We ate a nice lunch at Raincity Grill before taking a walk at the adjacent Stanley Park where Amber and I split a popsicle she brought from an ice cream truck. I can tell she doesn’t want to leave but she’s too big for this city now. We both need to go back to where fate put us.

Amber doesn’t say anything as the two of us drive to the airport, it kind of feels eerily familiar, although this time she isn’t outright cutting me off. I’ll still get to see her and talk to her and hopefully we can make this work.

“Are you excited?” I ask her as she paints her nails on my dashboard.

“Of course, this is kind of like in school when everyone comes back from summer vacations.” Amber says.

“Yeah I feel the same way too with the Bruins.” I tell her “I like that color,” I tell her noticing the shimmery salmon her nails are. I like it but that doesn’t mean I want it all over the dashboard of my Porsche.

Amber smiles “Guess what it’s called.”

There are like a million nail polish colors how am I supposed to guess? “What is it called?”
“My Address Is Hollywood” She says with a giggle, screwing the top back on and showing me the bottom “That’s where you can find me,” she tells me, looking distantly down the rural road.
______

I arrived extra early for my flight and once again there was a crowd, only this time it was slightly more manageable. How do they know these things? Maybe they are just left over fans who were camping out to see the cast of Twilight board their flights and decided that the airport was a nice place to spend the rest of the day. But they shout my name, which is a dead giveaway that they know who I am and I can’t do the whole hiding behind Milan thing. I waved to the crowd and they respond accordingly.

“Hi everyone,” I whisper quietly enough that only Milan and I can hear. I was never good with crowds I prefer to do things one on one. I try to make the best of the situation and hold an impromptu press conference. The middle of YVR, next to the baggage carousals probably aren’t the best place to do this because Milan and I get escorted to the first class lounge by airport security.

I’m not sure what to do. I see a magazine rack not too far away and I’m tempted but I see my face on several of the tabloids and I lose my appetite. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know what people think of me or what they’re saying about me. I snuggle into Milan’s side and basically fall asleep in the middle of the first class lounge.
______

The business people in suits are staring at us. It’s pretty obvious that we don’t belong in this “monochromatic scene” as Amber would call it. She’s so peaceful as she sleeps, occasionally I’ll have to adjust her head to prevent her from getting neck pains later on in the day.

“Flight 608 to Los Angeles International Airport now boarding first class.” says the PA system and a bunch of the flustered suits awkwardly try to put away their laptops.

“Amber,” I say gently and her eyes flutter open I can tell she’s going to ask me where she is but she realizes right away once she looks around.

“Boarding?” she asks rubbing her eyes.

I nod and she gets up onto her feet grabbing her quilted Chanel tote with her. She and I walk wordlessly to the terminal. They announce that business class is boarding just as Amber and I stop right in front of the gate.

“So…” I’m not sure how to say good bye.

“Milan? Can I come visit you in Boston?” Amber asks timidly.

“Of course,” I reply as Amber’s face lights up.

“I can’t wait.” She says sincerely “I’ll get to try some real New England Chowder and eat your sandwich and watch my first Red Sox game and my first hockey game at TD Gardens.”

“Chowdah” I correct her, I actually see some restaurants in the Boston area spell it like that
on their menus.

“Of course, chowdah” Amber repeats and I can tell it feels foreign on her tongue

“I have to go now Milan,” she says after a long pause.

“Okay,” I say and she gets her boarding pass ready for the girl behind the desk.

She can’t leave without knowing can she? “Wait!” I shout and Amber makes her way back to me to the dismay of the girl manning the desk.

“Yes, Milan?” she asks patiently.

“I…” but the words die before they can leave my mouth “I want you to have a safe flight.” I say lamely but that’s about all I can handle at this point.

“Thanks Milan,” she says pulling me in for a quick kiss before finally disappearing down the tunnel and onto the plane.
______

“How was your flight?” Greg asks as we make our way to the luggage claim area. LAX is always a hot bed for paparazzi since even celebrities have to get on planes.

“The guy sitting next to me claimed he was a director, gave me his card and said he’d make me a star.” I tell Greg as we wheel our separate carts and follow the general direction of the signs.

“Bet he thinks you’re one of them.” Greg says as a trio of tall girls walk past us, acting as if the slightly dirty floors of LAX were one continuous runway. “A small town girl who thinks she can make it in the big leagues.”

I shrug “Well I hope they have enough money for a return flight in a month,” It’s sad but true, girls like those are the 999,999 to the million.

You find the most random things on the luggage carousel as Greg and I wait we see a child’s car seat and ten pounds of frozen salmon make the rounds unclaimed. Our luggage looks like everyone else’s the only difference is that Greg and I have our monograms hand painted on our designer luggage.

“So off to West Hollywood now?” Greg asks preparing to leave.

“I think we’re missing something” I tell him but Greg seems oblivious “Dolce? Coco?”
“Oh right, sorry” he says. For a minute there I was starting to think that he thought I meant Domenico and Chanel.

We have to ask the man at the information desk where to pick them up but after we have them Greg spares no expense and rents us a limousine. Of course he does the whole driving down Hollywood Boulevard thing while poking his head out of the sun roof and waving to people on the sidewalk.

“Feels back to be home eh?” I ask

Greg burst into a fit of laughter “Did you get more Canadian over two weeks?” Greg says it like it wasn’t possible. I guess I did.

We spent the rest of the ride talking about our vacations. I tell him about Milan and taking on an interior design project out of the goodness of my heart while Greg tells me about paying for his entire family to spend two weeks with him at a holistic spa.

“Oh My God!” Greg says as we drive down to the end of my familiar street.

“Wha…” but I see it too. Clear as day. Planted in front of the Henderson’s house next door to mine, a giant SOLD sign.