The austerity of the desert eventually converted itself to palm trees and freshly watered lawns. They had arrived in Los Angeles before dinnertime. It felt strange to Aria to watch the people she had spent the last couple of days with scatter and disappear, knowing she would most likely never see any of them again.
The quality of the air was completely different. The city buzzed with enterprise and it excited her. She could tell immediately that the law of that land of opportunity was “every man for himself,” but there seemed absolutely no one to try to get in your way. Every person they passed walking out of the bus station seemed to be striving for something and to be so busy in the striving for it that they had no time for anything or anyone. They were observing that fast current toward success, knowing that soon, they too would be in it … but not today.
It was so crowded at the station that Taylor took her hand to lead her through the crowd toward a row of silver and black pay phones. He shuffled around in various pockets to produce a phone number written on a piece of napkin. Holding the phone between his shoulder and face, he dialed the number. He was still, listening to the dial tone for what seemed like forever. Despite the crowd, Aria could hear him leave a message. “Hey, it’s Taylor. I’m in LA! I brought a friend with me. I’m gonna call you back in a little bit because you didn’t pick up. We could really use some help around the city. Do you know anywhere that we could stay the night? OK, call you back soon.”
Taylor repositioned the telephone receiver in its holster and looked at her with a slightly embarrassed look, as if disappointed with himself that she was now in the position of waiting with him and not knowing exactly what to do. Aria pretended to just barely come up with enough money to go half in with Taylor on a packet of corn nuts and strawberry Pop Tarts from the vending machine. They sat down to eat in the waiting area of the station and exchanged observations about the other people and their initial impressions of the city.
Taylor tried six more times over the next five hours to reach his friend. He left upbeat, eager messages each time. Aria began to wonder whether this friend of his was truly a friend or whether, like everyone else in his life, she was just someone with whom he had conjured an imaginary sense of closeness. The sun had now set on the infant hours of their time in this new life, so, having resolved to try calling again in the morning, they set out walking.
Both of them felt daunted by the newness of this place. The more familiar you are with a place, the easier it is to navigate yourself through it. They were learning the hard way just what parts of familiarity they had taken for granted. Not wanting Aria to be targeted for the curfew violation they had heard applied in LA to any unaccompanied minor, they spent only short times in plain view of the cars passing by.
Eventually, out of options and exhausted, they decided to spend the night under a freeway overpass they had noticed during their walk, which already had a few tents under it. Taylor and Aria both imagined that the permanent-looking nature of the camps were a good indication that the people living there had already established it as a safe place to be. The chances of being singled out and harassed by cops among the other vagrants were smaller. Being careful not to impose on preciously guarded territory, they sat down a short distance from one of the tents. The people there, heavily layered in tattered clothing, seemed to exist in their own little worlds. None of them even acknowledged a change when the two sat down to claim a portion of the territory.
The static hiss of the cars passing by overhead inflicted itself on their attempts to fall asleep. That night, they did not give each other space. Instead, they were braided together, hoping that body warmth would quell their angst. The ground was cold and unforgiving, as was the incline that promised to keep them dry should any rain fall. It was a strange, distorted form of safety. They both slept fitfully, never quite dropping into the dark tranquility of sleep. Instead, they spent the night engaged in the gnarled and fragmented images of the shallow dreams that exist just above it.
When morning came, the sun did not get a chance to wake them; discomfort did. Their bodies throbbed and did not move with their usual quickness. They said nothing to each other, but tried to rouse themselves from the hangover of exhaustion. The sun had not risen yet. Instead the light had converted itself into purple.
It took a few moments for the slowness to be pierced through by panic. Aria had wrapped her backpack around the bottom of her leg, sure she would react should anyone try to take it. But now she reached out to find it gone. “God damnit!” she yelled, causing Taylor to jump too. “Someone stole my fucking backpack. I can’t believe it. Someone stole my fucking backpack.”
She jumped to her feet, her eyes scanning the area around them frantically. She was furious at herself. She was furious at the stupidity of not holding it between them, or at the very least using part of it as a pillow, like Taylor had done. She was uneasy with herself that she hadn’t woken up at the sound of it being taken.
Aria knew
