I have written 12.5 novels. (The thirteenth one is a work in progress). This is the space where I share my stories with the world. There is so much to say in this life, and so little time...



Showing posts with label san francisco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label san francisco. Show all posts

Saturday, December 15, 2018

Coming Clean



When I lived in San Francisco, Monday was my favorite day of the week because I usually performed at open mic night in SoMa. Sometimes I rehearsed beforehand, tweaking my performance as much as I could; other times, I simply went on stage and winged it. 

My voice isn't perfect and I play guitar like a (beginner-level) elementary school kid, but I've loved writing songs my whole life. During my year in Northern California, I filled journal after journal filled with lyrics. There was certainly no lack of inspiration in San Francisco.

Callie has been out of the loop for a while, due to some intense and unexpected circumstances in her life. She's missed a few open mic nights...and she's about to miss a whole lot more, for reasons she hasn't fully been able to explain.

Until now.

Xoxo,
Lisa


Chapter 15: JANUARY 4

             How’s your day off? Andrew texts while I’m walking up Geary Street.

Good, I say, dodging the crowd already gathered in front of The Fillmore. How’s work coming along?

It’s fine. Are you free tonight? I can call you once I get home, he offers. Would love to hear your voice.

I stare at the intersection of Geary and Webster, trying to judge whether traffic is light enough for me to jaywalk. Meeting an old friend for lunch, I text before darting across the street. But I’ll be home after that. Feel free to call whenever.

Thanks, Cal. Will do.

I duck inside the world’s smallest Japanese restaurant, the first place I ate at when I moved to SF four years ago. There are only a few tables in the restaurant. Luckily for me, one happens to be empty. I weave around customers to reach the vacant table.

My friend Trevor walks in just as I’m taking off my coat and setting it on the chair beside me. He smiles, strolling toward the table.

“Hey Callie,” he greets me with a hug. “Man, it’s been a long time. We missed you at Hotel Utah last week. Frankie played one of her new songs, which was great. And this guy I’ve never seen before did slam poetry. To be honest, I was skeptical. He wasn’t bad, though.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Sorry I missed it. God, I haven’t been to SoMa in forever.”

“Have you written any songs lately? Any new material for me to learn?” Trevor asks.

“You’re such a good sport, memorizing all those chords and standing in as my guitarist,” I note. “How many years has it been? Three? I never would’ve done open mic night without your help. I have no problem singing in public, but I sure as hell won’t play guitar in front of a crowd. I suck so much.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Trevor says skeptically. The waitress comes by for our drink order, and we both get green tea. I order brussels sprouts for an appetizer, my stomach rumbling so loudly that I’m sure people across the street can hear it.

“I actually have some news,” I tell him. “Most of my girlfriends already know, but I haven’t had a chance to tell any of my musical buddies yet. I’m moving back to Florida at the end of the month.”

Trevor’s jaw drops. “Really? Back to Orlando?”

I shake my head. “Actually, this time I’m trying Fort Lauderdale. It was a sudden decision. I plan to be in Florida for a year or less. I just needed a change.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain. I keep inching closer to 30,” I say with a shrug. “Not that 30 is old, but I’d hoped to be published by now. I want to pursue my writing and grow and learn and get better every day.”

“Can’t you do all that in SF?” he asks.

I pause. Outside, the sun is beginning to peek through the thick clouds. Tiny golden fingers reach down from the sky. This might be the only time all day the bright yellow orb makes an appearance. Through the restaurant’s oversized windows, I can see pedestrians unzipping their jackets and taking off their scarves, hats, gloves.

“There’s more to the story,” I confess before my brain can register what my mouth is saying. “Yes, I do want to work on my writing. Always have. But there’s something else…”
    

Thursday, December 6, 2018

Coast to Coast



My thirteenth novel was inspired by my real-life cross-country journey from Orlando to San Francisco (then back to Orlando...then back to San Francisco). I loved the slow, easy pace of Florida life as much as I relished the exciting buzz of living in The Bay Area. For me, SF's magic was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Meanwhile, Florida's quiet comfort felt reassuring and safe. My gypsy soul craved both extremes, apparently. 

It's interesting that I wound up in Dallas, halfway between both coasts. My husband, home, and furbabies are in North Texas. We'll be here for the foreseeable future, but I am so thankful for the bi-coastal adventures woven into my life story.

Callie Schneider, the protagonist in this novel, doesn't have a set plan. She flies by the seat of her pants, always eager for the next opportunity to try something new.  She's living in San Francisco but making friends around the country. Her life's about to change drastically; although she can't see what's coming, she's up for the challenge.  She just doesn't realize it yet.




Chapter 4: DECEMBER 23
“Callie!” Teresa yells from across the crew room.
I glance up from my computer and wave to Teresa. Then I hurriedly click a few keys, completing my check-in. Teresa meanders through the sea of suitcases and lunchbags until she is directly beside me. We walk to the printer together.
“Hi lady,” she smiles. Her vest looks look freshly-ironed. Her shoes are so clean they shine, unlike my scuffed-up heels. “Where are you flying today?”
I retrieve my trip sheet from the printer and read my pairing aloud. “Let’s see…San Francisco to St. Louis to Pittsburgh.”
“Pitt? Bummer,” Teresa says, grabbing the sheet from my hand. “How about tomorrow night? Oh, you’re in Orlando. Hmm, I have double Austin layovers.”
I groan. “The Marriott by Congress Street? That’s one of the best overnights in the system. I’m jealous!”
She hands my sheet back to me. Then she glances in the mirror beside the check-in station and toys with her blond hair. “You still living in Pac Heights? With those two girls who work downtown?”
“Yep. Tammy and Linda. They’re both in finance.”
Teresa’s brown eyes sparkle. “You’re really living it up, huh? I’d kill to live in that area. You must love it.”
I nod. “I got a great deal, rent-controlled and all that. It’s pretty surreal. Our apartment is central to everything.”
Teresa smiles. “That’s an understatement.”
“How’s Spokane?” I ask. “Is it cold there now? Snowing?”
She nods and pulls a pair of polka-dot earmuffs from her oversized purse. “Don’t laugh. I have to wear these when I commute home. Spokane has been an icebox lately, and it’s only December.”
“If you have to wear earmuffs, at least you got cute ones,” I say with a shrug. “I like the colors.”
“Zack bought them for me! That clown actually has a matching pair. In fact, he was wearing them this morning, when he commuted in,” Teresa says.
I pause as an idea forms in my mind. “Zack Friedman? He’s flying today?”
Teresa nods. “He was in the crew room a minute ago. I think he just left.”
“You know where he’s heading?”
She bites her lip. “Uhh…I think he said Phoenix then Denver. Or maybe Denver first, then Phoenix?”
I reach for my suitcase and jog toward the exit. “Thanks, love! Have a good trip! See ya around.”
It’s noisy in the terminal today, with holiday travelers crowding every walkway. Kids run and play, oblivious to the world around them. Every seat in the airport appears to be occupied. Christmas music blares through the speakers, the lyrics to “White Christmas” getting stuck in my head as I scan the departure screen.
“Phoenix leaves from gate 14, Denver from gate 11,” I note aloud.
I reach gate 11 first. The flight crew is waiting by the jetbridge, their uniforms crisp and clean. There are two older ladies and a younger one with stunning green eyes. No sign of Zack, though.
Gate 14 is so crowded that it takes me a minute to spot the flight attendants. Zack leans against a window, waiting for his plane to arrive. I sidestep toddlers and a service dog to get to him.
“Zack!” I say breathlessly.
He turns toward me. “California! Hey girl! Merry Christmas…almost.”
I wheel my suitcase beside his. “Thanks, you too. Teresa told me you were in the airport today.”
“Yep. Starting a three-day trip,” he says with a nod. “You?”
“Same. Pittsburgh and Orlando,” I tell him. “Hey, uh…I have a weird question. Did you get any of those boys’ numbers when we were in West Palm?”
Zack winks at me. “I sure did. You trying to get in touch with Andrew? One night wasn’t enough?”
If only you knew, I think.
“Something like that,” I say.
Zack scrolls through his phone. “Well, I saved Daryl’s number. Here…I’m forwarding you his contact info. I bet Daryl will be happy to give you Andrew’s number, or at least pass your number along to him.”
I check my phone and Juan’s number lights up my screen. “Thanks, Zack. I owe ya.”
He pulls me into a side hug. “Don’t mention it. Know what? We should pick up a trip together next month. It would be fun.”
I nod. “Sure. And if you’re ever get stuck in the bay before or after a trip, feel free to crash at my place.”
The buzzing of an aircraft gets louder; Zack’s plane has arrived. I glance outside. This particular plane has been painted for the holidays. Snowflakes cover the fuselage.
“Well look at that. I got the Christmas plane for my Christmas trip,” Zack notes with a smile. He heads down the jetbridge. “Have a good one, Cal!”
As Zack disappears from sight, I shoot Daryl a quick text. Hey, this is Callie, the SkyLine flight attendant who visited West Palm with Zack Friedman. Just wondering if you could send me Andrew’s number…I never got a chance to write it down…
Daryl’s response arrives before I even make it to my departure gate. Sure. Andrew talks about you a lot. He’d love to hear from you.
I snort as I read the text. Andrew talks about me “a lot?” We spent eight hours together…and we slept half those hours anyway.
Daryl must be thinking of someone else, I reflect..
***
When we land in Pittsburgh, it’s dark outside. I check my cell phone. 10:16pm.
Vera, a tall girl with a gorgeous complexion, is flying the lead position. I’ve seen her around the base before but this is our first trip together.
She completes her closing announcement as we taxi into the gate. “On behalf of this entire crew and all of SkyLine Airways, thanks for flying with us today. Welcome to Pittsburgh! Enjoy the holidays.”
I hop out of my jumpseat as soon as the airplane reaches a stop.
“Cal, you coming downstairs for a drink tonight?” Vera asks as she disarms her door.
I lift the girt bar on my door then turn toward Vera. “Nah. I would, but I’m too exhausted. Plus it’s a short layover.”
Vera smiles understandingly. “True. Thankfully, our Orlando layover will be much longer.”
The shuttle ride to our hotel is fairly quiet. Both pilots are playing on their phones and the flight attendants are talking about our new crew hotel in Boston. It’s snowing outside, big snowflakes that pile up quickly.
In the hotel room, I collapse on my bed. For about thirty seconds, I stare at my phone screen. Then I slip out of my flight attendant dress and throw on an oversized t-shirt. I sit up against the headrest and dial Andrew’s number.
“Hello?” Andrew’s voice explodes in my eardrum after the third ring.
I swallow. “Oh, hi Andrew. This is Callie, the flight attendant who was in town on Halloween. Sorry to call you so late.”
“Callie! Hey! I’m glad you called. Daryl told me you asked for my number today. I would’ve reached out to you sooner, Cal.  But you left in such a rush that morning, I never even got your number.”
That was on purpose, I note internally.
“How are you?” he continues. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just traveling and trying to stay warm. It’s snowing in Pittsburgh tonight. You doing ok, Andrew?”
“Yes. But I’d be better with you here.”
“It was just one night…” I remind him.
“Which is why I would like more time with you,” he clarifies.
I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm. “Listen, Andrew, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about-“
“Over dinner, maybe?” he interrupts. “Are you flying back to West Palm anytime soon?”
I turn on speakerphone and scroll through my SkyLine app to find my monthly schedule. “Uhh, let me check…I don’t have any PBI layovers in January. I have one in Miami, on January 1st.”
“Hmm. A week from now,” Andrew notes. “Where are you this weekend?”
“Pittsburgh tonight. It’s snowing here. Tomorrow we work three flights to Orlando.”
“Orlando! That’s not far from me. What time do you arrive?”
“6 p.m.,” I say.
“I’ll pick you up at the airport. There are some great restaurants in Winter Park, which is only about twenty minutes away. We can get something to eat.”
“Are you sure?” I ask him. “It’s Christmas Eve, Andrew.”
“That’s not a problem. Restaurants should be open.”
I pause. “What about your family; won’t you be celebrating? And Isn’t it a long drive for you?”
“We are Jewish so we won’t be going to church, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says. “And I don’t mind the drive. See you tomorrow at 6.”
As soon as I close out the call, I search the distance from West Palm to Orlando. Google informs me it’s a two and a half hour drive. Without traffic.
“Andrew, you’re a nutcase…” I mutter as I drift off to sleep.