= 10. =
 At four p.m., Martin sat in a diner near the Old Town, San Diego entrance ramp to I-5 pointing north toward Los Angeles. He was seated at a table with the remnants of a barbecue beer dinner with mashed potatoes and veggies (peas and carrots), reading a Wall Street Journal someone had left behind, and sipping coffee. At 4:05 his phone made flushing sounds. This time, it was a phone call rather than a text message.
His throat constricted anxiously. "Halurf?" he croaked.
"Martin?"
"Yrk."
"Is that Martin Brown?"
He cleared his throat. "Yes." He added in a voice filled with wonder, "Chloë."
"I’m so glad to be talking with you," she said in a tone that suggested he was a life raft and she was a survivor of a sinking ocean liner.
"Me too." He hoped he sounded fairly casual—not too eager, but then again not like he didn’t care.
"Oh, Martin."
"What is this about an accident?"
"I was driving away from you last night, wishing I didn’t have to go, and I got T-boned by a drunk driver. Luckily not too hard. It was like some sort of karma stepped in."
"You didn’t really want to go to that wedding."
"No." She laughed, but her laugh was cut short. "Ouch. It hurts to laugh."
"Are you okay?"
"I have three cracked ribs, a bruised face, and a broken femur in my left leg."
"Oh my god."
"I will live, Martin. I will live to have sushi with you again in that place with the windows and the green mustard that turns your breath into dragon flames."
"At least you still have your sense of humor."
"It’s not broken," she agreed in a sort of purr from the back of her throat. "How are you?"
"Thinking of you."
"Oh, how sweet. Oh, Martin."
"Sweetie, you said that before."
"And I’ll say it again."
"And I’ll gladly listen. Oh, Chloë."
"Now you’re making fun of me," she teased.
"No, I have a younger sister I do that with. I can have, like, real human-to-human contact with you instead of human-to-alien or human-to-zoo."
"I guess it’s rough. I was an only child."
"Does that make you an only person now that you’re grown up?"
"That’s what I adore about you—so philosophical."
"Not a producer."
"Thank heavens. Hey, I put in a good word for you."
"Bless you."
"I’d like you to be in LA where I can see you."
"That would be so nice."
"Ouch. Sorry. It hurts when I move. Martin, this is serious. I spoke to one of the Alienopolis producers, and they are very interested in having you on board as a creative writer. I’m going to put $400 in your bank account to cover travel and expenses."
"No."
"I’m serious. These people really want to interview you."
"Oh my god."
"So I hope to see you when?" She laughed. "Later this evening, if you can swing it?"
"Oh god yes. Are you home?"
"I am in my apartment off Wilshire Boulevard, by the UCLA campus near where we had sushi. My two girl roommates are in and out. One of them is a grad student of film, and the other is a nursing student. I’m the oddball because I work for a living, and I will probably forever be three credits shy of my English degree."
"You’re kidding. Another English major."
"There is hope for us."
"Can you use some company?"
"Of course, if you don’t mind being around an invalid."
"You are the older woman in my life right now."
"By what, a few months?"
"I calculated when you told me. I think you are eight months older than I am."
"You are a child. Yes, I think I am an only person. But not a lonely person. I have you."
"How sweet. I am prepared to drive up there if that’s okay."
"I would lo-ove the company, Martin. I promise not to whine."
"It’s okay if you do—a little bit."
"I’ll keep it to a low, drawn-out moaning sound."
"Thank you. Can I bring anything? Flowers? Chocolate?"
"You."
"Aw."
"You might have to run out for some take-out. I can’t move much, so I will be a lousy hostess. I’m sitting here in this plush old chair with my left leg in a cast, propped up on a wooden chair. I have my bedroom pillows on either side of me because my ribs are killing me. Actually, it only hurts when I move, or even think of moving."
"I cracked a rib once in high school karate class. No fun."
"Are you a black belt?"
"I never got past white. I became interested in track. I did come in first a few times in events."
"That is why you look so fit."
He said, "The primary skill of a martial artist is to run like hell when meeting idiots on the street. It’s not about ego but about survival."
"Spoken like a prehistoric mammal."
"I am that, and more."
"I can’t wait to see you."
"Me neither."
"I’ll be watching old black and white movies and wishing you were here already. Be safe, okay?"
"Wouldn’t that be a trip, us each sitting there with a broken leg up."
"Don’t even joke about it. I want you here in one piece so I can hug you, my teddy bear."
"Oh my god, my fur is just tingling at the thought of getting strokes."
"We can have cookies and milk together. You have to stop to pick them up."
"Fair deal. What do you like?"
"I’m easy. Chocolate chip. Nothing fancy."
"My kind of girl."
"I’d love to be."
"Can’t wait to see you. Like two hours, probably, if there’s no traffic."
"I hear there is a big storm coming. Do be careful."
"Neither rain nor sleet will keep me from worshiping at your feet."
"Drive safely."
"I have a question to ask when I get there."
"Really?"
"Yes. Don’t answer—but why do you have an umlaut over your e?"
"That’s not an umlaut, my sweet darling baby prince. I’ll explain everything when you get here."
"Oh, Chloë, I can’t wait.
"Oh, Martin."
They each breathed a fond bye and rang off.
Martin walked on air as he hurried to his car for a quick ride to LA.
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Thank you for reading the first half (free, what I call the Bookstore Metaphor). If you love it, you can (easily and safely at Amazon) buy the whole e-book for the painless price of a cup of coffee—also known as Read-a-Latte (hours of reading enjoyment; the coffee is gone in minutes, but the book stays with you forever). You can also get those many hours of happy reading from the print edition for the price of a sandwich (no, I don't have a metaphor for that, like a 'sandwich metaphor?'). To help the author, please recommend this book your friends, and also post a favorable (five star!) review at Amazon, Good Reads, and similar online reader resources. Thank you (JTC).
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