CHAPTER 66 — Tanabatasama (2)

The Prius smelled the same: Itziar’s coffee, guitar resin, Zara’s flora body wash. Zara picked her up at six. The sky was still mostly dark, the 101 sparse, and by the time they hit the interchange onto the 99, the sun slowly diffused its light over February: arriving without ceremony, laying light across the flat tablelands in long copper planks.

Eppie sipped her coffee.
Zara sipped hers.

Usually, a girl’s trip like this would be full of laughter, jokes, touching and sharing. Now was neither the time nor the occasion.

They drove for a while without talking, which was one of the things Eppie valued most about Zara. Her friend had an insane emotional quotient, one that worked far better than her [Emotional Intelligence], which was ranked C. She had thought about levelling the skill up, but in the end, she preferred the detachment.

“Traffic’s good,” Eppie said, eventually.

“Ya. Three hours, maybe less.”

“Mio’s mother said noon,” Eppie said. “You ever… seen a kid being born?”

Zara shook her head. Her family was firmly middle-class. She was an only child. Paco had no kids.

“We’ll make it,” Zara assured her.

Eppie felt her heart contract uncomfortably. That Mio was doing this. That Mio was doing this at all was insane to Eppie. She just couldn’t imagine it. If that had been Eppie on that bench, and if she had to carry a child to term, only to see William’s face come out of her—she would hurl the thing from her like a fat spider.

They passed the valley—then more of the valley. Almond trees in the distance, already beginning to think about blossoms. Fresno was two weeks from its brief and overwhelming bloom.

“So, understudy… for Valorie,” Zara said.

“Yap.”

“Lavinia?”

“Yeah. We get grouped a lot. Pair exercises. Mirroring. That kind of thing.”

Zara tapped the steering wheel. “What’s it like acting against Valorie?”

Eppie gave the experience some thought. “Like trying to outplay Antonio, except less skilled. But Antonio is also six foot two, looks like Enrique Bandis, and has a fifty-two inch chest, thirty-four inch waist, and twenty-one inch arms, while playing bass and classical one-handed.”

Zara almost drove the Prius onto the median strip. Enrique Bandis was, Eppie supposed, their version of Banderas.

“What the hell does that mean?!” The Catholic girl demanded.

“She’s got these…” Eppie made a mound with her hands. “They’re… very well shaped, and she doesn’t always wear a sports bra.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious…”

“No one complained?”

“Why the hell would anyone complain? She usually keeps them hidden. The kittens only come out to play when we’re in theatre blacks.” Eppie said. “Cooper’s classes are hard enough…”

“Right…” Zara placed both hands on the steering wheel, trying not to laugh. “You gotta give it to Val, eh?”

“Somebody’s giving it to her,” Eppie thought of William harvesting Val’s growing [Causality] like a man meticulously mowing a golf green. “You know… Val knows.”

“Yeah, you told me,” Zara sighed.

“You think she really doesn’t care?” Eppie said. “I wonder what would happen if I told her William’s firstborn isn’t hers.”

“Eppie…” Zara’s voice grew low. “We already agreed on this.”

“I know, I know.” Eppie shook her head. “The kid’s innocent. He or she should be happy. The kid deserves to be…”

They came over the grade and down into the bowl of the valley, and Fresno appeared the way it always did, humble, honest, just kind of… there in an unpretentious way. A very different vibe to Los Angeles.

“You looking forward to meeting… the baby?” Zara asked.

“Not really…” Eppie hated herself for being honest.

“Have you thought about names?”

“Why would I think about names?” Eppie said. It ain’t my baby…

“Ah…” Zara kept her eyes on the road. “Maybe… just give it some thought?”

The hospital, St Agnes Medical, was just off Herndon. It was originally a real Catholic hospital founded by the Sisters of the Holy Cross, and when Eppie Googled its ratings, it was reportedly the “best place to have a baby” in Fresno.

At noon, the parking lot was almost full. Zara found a spot near the roof, between a truck and a truck with the lettering “NO WAR”.

“We’re here,” Zara nudged her.

“I know…” Eppie took a long, deep breath.

“Why are you nervous?” her friend held her hand. “Are you… The Father?”

The laughter that issued from Eppie’s mouth rose from her belly and through her nose, almost choking her. She hated it, but god damn it, did she laugh out loud.

“I hate you right now…”

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“Come on!” Zara opened her door for her. “Put on your happy face, and let’s go!”

The walk from the structure to the main entrance was short, about a minute. Eppie felt the blood pounding in her head as they slid past the automatic doors, the stained glass near the reception, and a volunteer who directed Zara toward the stairs.